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I could run, dart out the door, and take off. But I won’t. That’s expected. They're not dumb. This is some sort of test, so I take note of him putting the key onto the counter, waiting for my time to grab it. And I will. You and I have a date later, Mr. Key. I just have to make it through this first. Whatever we're about to do.
“What rules?” I question, rubbing at my raw wrist.
Bastard. When I’m free, these assholes are never catching me again. I’ll hide in his daddy’s precious tower for all I care. Well, maybe not. He’s a psycho, too. More so than the boy he raised. Just as long as I’m not handcuffed to these fuckers ever again.
They may be hot as sin, but they’re walking, talking red flags. But somehow, I always go full speed ahead toward the wrong people. Like the masked men I let hump and dump me. That night was perfect, but the warning bells were spot on. But God, did they fuck me into oblivion. So much so that I don’t remember getting home. How the hell did I get into my bed? I wouldn’t put it past me to stumble home and climb through my window. Still, it’s a mystery to me. One I don't intend to solve. Ignorance is bliss, sometimes.
“So many,” he says with a devilish grin, shrugging his suit jacket off and folding it on the large countertop. Next comes his button-up shirt, leaving him in a white undershirt and slacks.
My eyes widen as he peels off clothes, unable to turn my eyes away. This is the man who handcuffed me to him without remorse. He let me get arrested despite his status with the police department. So, I shouldn’t find his muscles enticing to look at. Nope. Okay, that’s a lie. He’s hot, dangerous, and deranged, and I’m totally pissed at him, but that doesn’t mean I can’t peek at what he’s packing. Right?
Not to mention those tattoos lining his flesh, depicting all sorts of scenes across his body. He’s covered in them. The largest one catches my eye, shining through from beneath his undershirt. A large bird, resembling a raven with beady eyes stares back at me, mid-flight, and mouth open. Its feathers stretch down the outside of his left arm and the beak pokes out on his neck, which is usually covered. Lost feathers fall from the bird down his left arm, almost to his wrist. Painting a beautiful picture of a creature that means nothing but bad omens in myth.
To some though, the raven represents intelligence. Even being in the presence of one can mean rebirth and starting anew. Whichever Jericho believes, I’m not sure.
“Do tell,” I mumble, averting my eyes to the floor when the sound of water startles me from my stupor. Shiny shoes enter my vision when my chin is lifted, and I stare into dark, devastating brown eyes. He examines my tight expression with a cold stare.
“You’re going to take this off and climb into the shower.” He pulls at my stupid jailbird suit they forced me into after taking the only nice dress I actually liked. Fuck. I’m going to have to break it to Jenni later that they ruined it. If she’s still around, of course. That’s just another person I’m adding to my list to talk to.
I swallow hard, holding eye contact. It burns through me until I shiver under his stare.
“Step out of the room, then I will.” I lift my chin when his lips quirk up in a smile.
“If you thought I was leaving you alone, you’re mistaken. You will strip every inch of clothing off your body and step under the shower, while I watch to make sure you stay put. I've got my eyes on you, Little Chaos. Always.”
Infuriating asshole! Rage swirls under my flesh when he quirks a smile at me. It's off-putting. Skin crawling. Fucking mocking. Jericho doesn't care that I don't want to get naked in front of him. He wants to watch me squirm.
I swallow hard, stiffening my shoulders. “No. You can’t do that. This is my body, and I won’t have you in the bathroom while I get clean.” No peep show for you, douchebag.
He shrugs. “You signed the contract. I’d be happy to escort you back to prison, where you’ll stay until you die. Either strip your clothes off or…” He leaves the threat hanging in the air with a cocky smirk on his lips.
No remorse. Nothing in his tone but amusement as I fight to think of what to do next. Is this fight even worth it? Yes. Yes, it is.
“That contract is bullshit! There’s no way that would hold up in court.”
Jericho licks his lips, moving into my space. Those long fingers wrap around my throat, clinging to it like he loves to do.
“It may not hold up in the courts of the government, but in this house, that contract is binding. You should have read it better if you didn’t want me to see you naked in the shower. Every inch of your flesh is ours to suck, fuck, dress, and play with. You’re our fucking property, baby.”
I hold in the sputter threatening to release. Show no emotions. Your enemies will play off them. His property? What the actual fuck do I look like? Definitely not someone who is owned. Not by him at least. Shit. How the hell do I end up in these situations? The last thing I need is some man telling me I’m his. Again. I will no longer stand for it. I'm my own person.
Yeah, this fight is so not worth it. Although, I do enjoy riling him up. What I don’t enjoy is him practically eye fucking me when he steps back and takes his white undershirt off, folding it with the others.
Fuck his stupid muscles and arrogant, handsome face.
“I don’t belong to you,” I breathe. “I’ll never fucking belong to you or anybody else.” I grit my teeth with every word, making that promise to myself over and over again.
I don’t want or need them. I only need myself and Sunshine. I learned a long time ago that I can’t depend on anyone.
“You can think that now, Little Chaos. But I’ll show you day in and day out who you fucking belong to. Me. Them. You’re our little puppet to play with. Now, be a good girl and take that hideous reminder off. I’m going to clean you, and then I’ll show you your closet.”
So many questions rest on the tip of my tongue, but I hold them in. There’s a time and place for it, and right now is not the time. Shivers roar through me when he unbuckles his slacks and kicks his shoes off, standing before me in nothing but tight black boxers, and even those disappear.
Leaving him completely naked. In the buff. No clothes on.
Shit. I think I’m short-circuiting, and I’m supposed to be a rage-filled bull, ready to show him. Instead, I’m staring straight down at his dick.
Goddamn. I avert my eyes, heat filling my face. Holy shit, he’s got a dick. A big, big dick. My gaze goes right back to it like it’s a bad train wreck, and I can’t look away. Standing loud and proud at attention halfway up his abdomen. Holy shit! Of course, he does. He's a man. A man who is packing. Jesus. How does he fit that in his pants?
