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He is gorgeous from the neck down.
We’re in the car now after an awkward morning. He had clothes in his closet that would fit me with tags, never worn, and I didn’t ask how he knew my size or how they were there because I had a feeling the answer wouldn’t be something I wanted to hear.
I rub my hand over my eyes because maybe I would want to hear it. Isn’t that insane? I shouldn’t like this. I shouldn’t like how crazy this man is, but I do.
I really do, and as much as I fear his insanity, I want more of it.
What’s that say about me?
If I can just get out of here and away from this guy, I’ll be able to have a clear thought.
His hand slides into mine, and I jerk away, but he holds on tight, not giving me the option to have my own space.
“Did your brother give you my bags by any chance? My phone?”
“No,” he says simply.
“It’s not like you’d let me have it, right? You say I’m not a prisoner, yet I’m not allowed to leave or call home.”
“You need to give me a chance. Give me a chance, and I’ll give you your freedom, Mable.” The car pulls into an empty parking lot outside of a Victorian house. The siding is painted black, the door is red, and the windows aren’t open. The shutters are metal, covering the glass so no one can look inside.
“Where are we?”
“I need to speak with a friend, and then you and I will need to have a conversation.”
He’s so vague. What’s that even mean?
He climbs out of the car and gently shuts the door to this Porsche. He holds his hand in the middle of his blazer as he comes around the hood of the silver sports car, opening my door for me as if he were a gentleman.
If my memory serves correctly, this morning, while he had me pinned against the wall, he only has gentlemanly tendencies.
He’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing, ready to attack and pounce as the predator he is.
Dri holds out his hand for me to take to help me out of the car, and while the sardonic part of me wants to take it, I don’t. It would be another way he has a hold on me. Slipping my hand into his is like promising myself to a monster.
I stare at his outstretched hand, waiting for his nails to morph into talons so he can sink them into my flesh and never let me go.
I get out of the car myself and hold my chin high, slamming the door behind me for good measure. I won’t let him control me, even if the sound of it becomes more appealing every second I’m with him.
“I like your strength, Sweetness, I do. I crave it. I’ve been starved for it for a very long time, and I adore it when you challenge me to show you don’t need me. I know you don’t need me.” He crowds me against the car, that wicked hand pushing against my hip to keep me locked in place. “You’re the kind of woman who doesn’t need a soul, and I find that quality about you enticing, but humor me, Mable. Let me take care of you.”
“Why?” I swallow, tilting my head back as he bends down, skimming his lips across my throat. “Why should I?”
He drags his lips across the pulsating vein in my neck, and I shut my eyes, trying not to react to the small touch, but my entire body is on fire for him. The familiarity is killing me, and I wish I knew why.
“Because Mable. While you do not need me and are strong enough to be in this world on your own, I can’t say the same about myself. I need you. I’m not strong enough to be in this world where I’m not near you again, so let me take care of you because, in return, it takes care of me.” He kisses my jawline until he is at my lips, then, with his thumb, tilts my chin down by placing the pad of his finger on my mouth. “And I know you don’t care about taking care of me right now, but if you’ll allow me, my priority will always be you.”
His lips skim across mine, and I part them, my body responding to him by seeking his kiss.
I’m a weak woman.
He says I’m strong, but nothing about me solidifies when he’s near me. I actually melt when his hands are on me, his mouth is on mine, the way he speaks to me, and the way he is obsessed with me for some reason.
I crave it just like he craves me.
I can’t give into the dark, or I’ll never be able to go home. I don’t belong here. I’ve found myself in a bad situation, and I’m doing what I can to make sure I can leave.
What happens when I don’t want to leave?My inner voice echoes in the back of my mind.
