Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 104127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
As stated, it’s his closet. His very large closet. Oh, who am I kidding? It’s massive.
It’s like he had one of those HGTV interior decorators come over and style it for him.
I have never seen anything like it. Why am I surprised?
The whole estate is ridiculous. This is the master bedroom, after all. Nothing in this place isn’t amazing.
It’s bigger than my studio apartment.
An idea pops into my head….
Who needs a bed when I could just stay in here and have a whole damn room to myself?
I can set up a makeshift bed on the floor.
It’s clean. Immaculate really.
Best yet? There’s a whole wall between Gideon and me.
Yep. This is where I’m going to sleep. Right in here. That’ll give me the needed distance from him.
A false sense of security.
I step outside and find him exactly where I left him. Sitting on the damn bed with a smug-ass look on his face. Too bad he’s so handsome. It’d be preferable if he weren’t.
Looking straight into his light blue eyes, I stand taller, crossing my arms over my chest. “The closet will do.”
He furrows his brow. “Do for what?”
“To sleep in, obviously.” I roll my eyes as if his question is ridiculous.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
I expect him to object, but then he smiles. “Suit yourself, but the door stays open.”
My lips thin, and I have to stuff down my growing annoyance. “Why? There’s no escaping the damn closet.”
“Because I said so, Sasha. Now go to bed.”
Looking back into the closet and then at him, I incline my head. “Can I at least get my pajamas from the other room?”
“No,” he says, turning away from me and climbing into his bed. “Sleep in one of my shirts.”
“What? No way. I don’t want anything of yours touching my body.”
He shakes his head on a huff, lying back and using both hands to fluff his pillow, like he hasn’t a care in the world.
“Sleep naked for all I care, Sasha. Your choice. I’m only providing options like a good host.”
I bark a humorless laugh, spinning on my heels and heading back to the safety of the closet.
Once inside, I pull open every drawer until I find what I’m looking for. If he’s going to be an arrogant ass, I’ll wear his damn T-shirt. No way would I sleep naked in this place.
The simple white T-shirt hangs to my knees and smells like Downy. It covers enough to give me some semblance of comfort.
I step back into his room to grab my pillow, and the moment I do, I stop in my tracks. Gideon is staring at me. His mouth is open, and his eyes have darkened to two pools of something way too close to desire. It makes my stomach flip.
“Firefly. You look…good in my clothes.”
His voice is silky smooth with a hint of decadence; it shouldn’t make my knees go weak.
But it does.
And I hate my reaction.
It’s not okay to be attracted to your captor. That’s called Stockholm syndrome.
Unfortunately, my stupid body isn’t getting the memo.
I try my best to ignore him and instead grab the pillow and make my way back to the closet, but as instructed, I don’t close the door. Doing my best to wipe my memory clean of his husky, sensual voice, I go about making my bed.
It sounds like a stampede of elephants right now, the way I’m ruffling around, but I don’t care.
It’s late, and I’m pissed.
For so many reasons.
Once I’m satisfied with my sleeping arrangements for the night, I lie down and stare at the ceiling.
It’s a good thing the door isn’t closed because I feel trapped even with it open. I feel like the walls are caving in around me. The light seeping into the dark closet helps a little. I don’t feel as suffocated as I would if it were shut.
I’m exhausted, but I lie awake thinking about how just beyond the open door—only a few feet away—Gideon sleeps.
God, I hope he’s sleeping.
I know he said he would never take something not offered, but is he waiting for me to get comfortable? Will he go back on his word?
He’s too close. I don’t trust him.
Closing my eyes, I count my breaths. Inhaling and then exhaling. Finally, I’m able to drift off, but not without my last thought being of him, and worse, what his hands felt like on my skin when he touched me.
18
SASHA
I sense him even though I don’t see him. The woodsy yet floral smell of scotch lingers in the air. Inhaling deeply, the fragrance tickles my nose, bringing a warm feeling to spread across my skin.
I keep my eyes closed so that I can pretend I don’t know he’s here.
Beside me.
Moving closer and closer.
Too damn close.
The sheets are pulled back from my body, and I feel the cold air hit my exposed flesh.