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Calling me his ‘good girl’ when I reluctantly tell my mother that he’s my partner—which, okay, that’s at least a little true… and it’s better than saying he’s my lover—Burns decides it’s time for another reward.
And, whoa. This one’s a doozy.
* * *
Except for myfailed escape attempt, I haven’t left Burns’s cabin since the day I entered it. That’s why I’m so surprised when, a couple of days after I moved into his bedroom, he brings the skimpy red dress up from the basement.
Hanging it on the door, he shuffles me into the master bathroom. The whole cabin itself is super rustic. Masculine, too. Shades of brown fill the place, and when I teasingly pointed out that it lacked a woman’s touch, Burns took my hand, kissed the back of it, and told me I could do whatever the fuck I wanted to it.
It’s our home, after all.
He bought it years ago, I found out, but not for any reason other than—like me—sometimes the city was too much for him.
It’s Burns’s personal sanctuary. No one else has ever set foot inside; just me and Carter, and for different reasons, we were both unconscious when we arrived.
When I bite my bottom lip, my expression asking the question I refused to vocalize, Burns made it clear: that meant no other women, either.
I hate what it does to my mood to know that. Why should I care who Burns fucked before me? With his dark appetites, I figured there had to be countless to fulfill his needs.
To my surprise, he makes it a point to convince me that my impression of him is wrong. Burns says he hasn’t been in a committed relationship in at least five years; like me, they were all flings that never got too serious. No other woman ever caught his attention enough for him to stick around—not until I gave him the daisy and unknowingly piqued his interest.
An interest that turned into a full-blown obsession within weeks…
He watched me for months. Almost from the beginning, he decided I was meant for him. That I was the only woman he’d ever want. Aware enough of what kind of man he is, he actually tried to stay away so he wouldn’t scare me.
Of course, then I “flaunted” my date with Dean, making Burn believe he was losing me. So long as I wasn’t with another man, he was willing to keep his distance. The second he thought I was going to sleep with someone else, I triggered the possessive side of my obsessed stalker.
Because, in his kinder moods, he says loves me. Sooner or later, he tells me, I’ll love him back. I pushed his hand, and now he’s only giving me what I want… at least, that’s Burns’s opinion on my captivity.
Me? I’m not so sure about that. I don’t doubt that his obsession is definitely something—so is the way he wholeheartedly believes I belong to him—but love? I have a hard time believing that, though I don’t argue with him anymore about it. There’s no use, and I only get the cold side of my fiery cop whenever I try.
Just like it’s not worth arguing about his feelings for me, the same goes for shower time. I might have avoided being so close to a deliciously naked Burns while I was in the basement. Upstairs? It’s like he wants to tempt me into giving in and sleeping with him any way he can. Knowing how well-kept and toned his body is, he uses it against me.
And I let him. Not like I really have a choice. With Burns, I never do…
The master bathroom is huge. At least three times larger than the tiny room below us, I can’t use the excuse that it’ll be too crowded in the shower for him to join me when two more Burns could fit in there with me, easy. And… well… if he’s going try to get me to beg for his cock by taking every opportunity to pleasure me, what’s the harm in allowing him to?
It’s probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in my whole life, but I… I kinda trust Burns; at least, with mybody,I do. Despite his constant teasing, his pushing, his attempt to possess me every moment we’re together, my captor’s held true to his word. He’s probably tasted every last inch of me—and I’ve done the same to him—but sex… penetrative sex… we haven’t gone that far yet.
I’m not ready yet. He knows it, too. Just like how he knows what Carter did to me has me all screwed up when it comes to sex. I’m still not sure how—I guess being a cop comes in handy, even when it comes to researching a crime far out of his jurisdiction—and I don’t ask.
I’m afraid to found out what else he knows about me…
I’m learning things about myself in his cabin in the hills that I’ve never known before.
Though I’d never admit it to another soul, I actually kinda like it when Burns takes control. It helps that I’ve seen how easily he’s willingly to pass it back to me when I want it, but when he justtakesit? I find it easier to give in and just enjoy the way he possesses the parts of me I let him have.
I won’t run. I haven’t attempted to leave him since that rainy night out in the rain. For so many reasons, it’s easier to play the part of his passive captive, especially since he’s given a small taste of freedom.
Maybe before Carter, I would’ve bolted at my next chance. Not now.
Not yet.
Burns is still suspicious. He hasn’t threatened me with the cuffs again, and I’m not sure how he’ll react when he goes back on the job, but I’m learning things about him, too. In his broken mind, he equates fucking me with keeping me.
Since I’m sleeping in his bed instead of the cot in the basement, Burns arrogantly believes I’m one kiss, one lick, one crooked grin away from finally giving in to him.
I still refuse.
