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A smile spreads across my face and Rax mirrors it. I notice the small chip on one of his front teeth and I find it more endearing than I should. Hell, maybe this is Stockholm Syndrome.
Sighing, I run my hand through my hair. “I don’t want to lie to the cops.” When I see his eyes narrow, I rush to say, “You misunderstand. I don’t mean I’ll turn you in. I mean when you let me go.” I look into his eyes to see if he means to let me go. His expression softens—as much as it can soften for Rax anyway—so I keep talking. “When they ask if I did anything to help you, I can’t say no. I’ll forget the lies and won’t be able to keep up.”
“You won’t have to. They’ll see you as a victim and won’t ask you anything. And they’ll think you did everything because I forced you to. Just relax and get some sleep, sweet pea.”
I nod and turn to my other side.
He’s given me a lot to think about. The more I talk to Rax, the better I like him. I’m not sure that’s safe. He’s been pretty consistently scowly with me, but something about being personal with him this whole trip has one part of me wishing I had met him somewhere else. Not as his captive, but as someone he might have had genuine interest in if he wasn’t straight.
And sweet pea? What’s that about? He’s been calling me that for almost a week, with no explanation. I haven’t asked, so maybe that’s why.
I like it.
I grin in the dark at his use of the name.
At some point, I fall asleep, but I’m woken up by Rax tossing and turning beside me. Rolling over, I paste myself to his chest, hoping my proximity will calm him. It’s not until I’m on his chest with my arms tucked around him that I realize how dangerous that could be. He’s been in prison for over seven years and used to sleeping alone. He could think someone is trying to attack him or something.
This could backfire.
I stiffen, hoping he doesn’t pummel me, but he immediately calms and wraps an arm around me in turn. Smiling, I relax and go back to sleep.
I wake to light streaming into my room and groan. Every morning when I was cuffed to the bed, I would be forced awake by the streaming sun nearly blinding me. I thought I pulled those curtains so I wouldn’t go through this again. Did I forget?
It takes a moment to realize that my bed feels and smells different.
My eyes pop open and I sit up, looking around at the unfamiliar surroundings. I look beside me and see the rumpled sheets. Touching the space beside me, I feel the bed is cold. Rax must have gone out. The bathroom door is open and I don’t see anyone in there. Maybe making breakfast?
Before I can ponder anymore, Rax walks in the room, his long hair tied back and he’s dripping sweat. He meets my eyes and gives me a slow perusal. “Did you sleep?”
For some reason, I duck my head shyly. “I did. Much better than when I had my hand cuffed to the headboard.”
Rax rolls his eyes and pulls his shirt over his head. My eyes immediately go to his torso and holy fuck. He wasn’t kidding—he likes to keep in shape. His body is amazing. He’s hard and tight everywhere, the lines of his abs looking almost like they hurt. His pecs make for nice pillows—as I found out last night—but they look even better than they feel.
I keep looking him up and down as he takes his shorts off, standing only in his briefs as he goes to the dresser to pull out some clothes to change into. I guess I should take my clothes from the gym bag Zeke gave me since we’ll be here for another two or so weeks.
Before I can avert my eyes, Rax looks at me suddenly. The slow smile that spreads across his face makes my cheeks heat. I guess our conversation has loosened us both up. Rax looks a bit more relaxed than he has in days.
“I told you I stay in shape. Glad you like.”
No use denying it. He can practically see my dick growing beneath the sheets. “I do.”
He grins and gets his things so he can shower. I flop back on the bed when the water is started, trying to figure out my next move. I could stay here …
Rax grabs my arm and lugs me into the bathroom. Or I could get in with him.
When he stops me in the middle of the floor, I look at him with a what now? look.
“Strip,” he says simply and I almost choke on my spit.
Stuttering, I ask, “What?”
“Trust is hard to come by. At some point, I’ll trust completely that you won’t run. But if you remember, the last time I was in the shower, you bolted on me.”
Sighing, I say, “I told you—”
He cuts me off. “I know what you told me. Just strip, sweet pea. No use arguing. I’ll get my way in the end.”
I know he’s right, so I just comply. No need to fuss when I know he’ll end up forcing me into the shower. He’s bigger and stronger than me. It’s nothing for him to pick up and plant me where he wants me. His big body would keep me in place, getting his way while I pout and get upset.
