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I laugh, a harsh, bitter sound that grates on my own ears. I can’t remember the last time I laughed with joy rather than mockery. “Why not? You lied to me. The one thing you swore you’d never do, and you’re so fucking weak and cowardly and pathetic that you couldn’t even follow thatone little rule. You couldn’t control me without lies. Do you have any idea how much contempt I have for you because of that? God, you make me nauseous.” I’m angry all over again as I say that. Rage burns through me like a cleansing fire.
He leans back in his chair, the anger fading from his face. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we, Toy? I wonder what’s going to become of us.”
“One of us will die at the hands of the other.”
“Perhaps. Well, if you plan on killing me, you’ll need your strength.” He shoves his plate of pasta at me. The remains of my own plate are splattered on the table in front of him. “Eat.”
I shake my head.
“Do you know what a funnel gag is, Toy? It would allow me to shove food into your mouth and down your throat.” He says the words politely, and I feel a bizarre shiver of arousal.
He has well and truly screwed me up for life. His threats turn me on now. God help me, even if I escaped, I’d never be free of him.
I look up and meet his eyes. “I’m genuinely not hungry right now, Joshua. When you forced me to tell you the things that I love about being here—that was hard on me. I lost my appetite.”
He looks at my hands and sees that they’re shaking. “Why?” He seems to be genuinely interested.
“It’s painful for me to open up like that. I spent a lifetime building up walls, and when you tear them down like that, it makes me feel weak and exposed.” My muscles tense up, and I clench my fists to stop the trembling.
“I see.” He thinks about it for a moment, then stands up and walks over to me. He pulls me to my feet, and…wraps his arms around me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, astonished.
“It’s called a hug, Toy.” He says it with gentle mockery.
He’s hugging me to make me feel better.
His arms tighten around me, and I melt into him before I can stop myself. His body is so strong, his grip so firm. I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes and breathe in his warm, masculine scent, the faint whiff of cologne and sweat and male musk. Then I circle his waist with my hands and hug him back.
I hug my kidnapper.
I hug my torturer.
I just want to feel better about everything, I want to leave my nightmare behind even if it’s just for a few moments of make-believe, so I pretend that he’s none of those things. I keep my eyes closed tight and pretend that he’s my boyfriend, my lover, my protector. And in a way he is. I have no doubt that if anyone tried to harm me, Joshua would kill them or die trying. He’s the only man in my life. The only man who’s ever given me an orgasm. When we have sex now, it feels like making love, and he always, always makes sure that I come first.
Why couldn’t he have been like this when he first took me? I think I’d have been in love with him by now.
He begins stroking my hair, gently, fingers trailing through the tresses.
“This isn’t so bad,” he murmurs, and I’m not sure if he’s talking to himself or me. And a little bit of me melts. This is probably the first time he’s ever hugged anyone, and, heart-breakingly, the first time he’s ever been hugged. Several minutes slide by, slowly, sweetly.
I open my eyes and tip my head back to look at him. He’s staring down at me, and the look in his eyes is pure tenderness. It looks like love.
“You could let me go, Joshua,” I plead for the millionth time.
“If you truly knew me, Toy, you would understand that I can’t.” I think his smile is tinged with sadness. At least, if it were anyone else, that would be a sad smile. “I simply can’t.”
How can anyone truly know someone as fucked up as you, Joshua?
I step back out of his arms, as far as I can go with my ankle still chained to the chair, and my body cries out at the loss of his warmth.
He bends down and uncuffs my ankle.
But he doesn’t set me free.
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
TAMARA
