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Friend or foe, I already know it’s not going to matter. Slade and I won’t be satisfied until we have her spread out between us.
I fuck my hand faster and faster until I shoot my cum all over my stomach. I take a moment to catch my breath before I climb out of bed and use the bathroom to clean up.
Blowing out a breath, I stare at my reflection, almost wishing the image staring back might try to talk some sense into me, but no such luck.
This time, when I lie down in bed, it doesn’t take me long to drift off to sleep, with pretty violet eyes haunting my dreams.
CHAPTER NINE
Astrid
When I wake up, I tense, feeling a warm body beside me. I turn to look at Jagger and find him still asleep. He’s lying on his back with one arm tucked under the pillow and the other across his chest.
I look to the other side of me and find the space where Slade slept empty. I blow out a breath, unable to hold back my relief as I sit up. Slade is intense, and I don’t think I have it in me to deal with his particular brand of assholeyness before I’m properly caffeinated.
Looking back at Jagger, I have the bizarre urge to lie back down and snuggle into him.
That thought brings me up short. Snuggle into him? He’s a kidnapper, not a fucking teddy bear. We do not snuggle with kidnappers.
Okay, yeah, I need caffeine now, preferably administered by the gallon intravenously.
When Slade appears in the doorway, I sigh. Forget the coffee and just give me tequila.
“You’re awake.”
Perceptive, this one. “It seems so.”
“Do you need more painkillers?”
I want to say no to him so badly, but I can’t. I feel like a warmed-up bag of shit this morning. I need drugs more than I need to use my bitchiness. “Please.”
He nods and disappears, returning a few minutes later with a couple of pills and a fresh glass of water. I reach out a shaky hand and take the pills from him, popping them into my mouth and swallowing them down with the water. I hand the glass back to him and watch as he picks up the glass from the nightstand and takes them both to the kitchen.
I bite my lip and look toward the bathroom, wondering if I can pee quickly before he comes back.
The answer is no. A moment later, he returns, walking over to the dresser for the plate with the peanut butter and jelly sandwich on it. He turns, eyeing me with a twitch of his lips before he takes that out with him too.
I don’t waste another second. I jump out of bed and hurry to the bathroom, biting back tears at the pain in my body. I pee and wash my hands—this time I avoid looking in the mirror, knowing it will, at the very least, look as bad as it feels. And it feels fucking awful. I hurry back out of the bathroom and collide with Slade, who is waiting just outside the door.
I yelp in shock on impact—his hands grabbing my arms to steady me—and bite back the moan of pain. His expression flickers with concern for a moment before he masks it. Lifting my hand, he looks at my palm and nods happily at how it’s healing. Letting me go, he checks out the cut on my head before he drops into a squat in front of me.
I stumble backward and gasp. “What are you doing?”
“Checking out your knees. What did you think I was doing?”
There’s a taunting tone to his voice, but I keep my comeback from spilling out, feeling too off balance to enter into a sparring match with this man.
He reaches for me, grabbing my hips and tugging me closer. Once he has me where he wants me, he runs his fingers over my tender knees before looking up at me.
“How do these feel?”
“Sore and swollen.”
“Well, they are definitely that. You’ll be slow-moving for the next few days.” He smirks, looking pleased.
“Yeah, I bet you just love that, don’t you?”
He doesn’t answer. He stands up and leans over me. He uses it as an intimidation tactic. Not even trying to hide his hostility from me. But beneath the hate, there is something else—curiosity.
