Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
“Oh, I’m definitely sleeping in that bed again.”
“So you did sleep in my bedroom.”
“I did.”
Her eyebrows knit together in annoyance. “That’s not fair. And if you’re gonna be up there anyway, then why can’t I just come along? It’s not like I’m trying to seduce you for an opportunity.”
One corner of my mouth lifts up. “Like this morning?”
“Hey, I was desperate. And hungry. It felt like my last chance.”
“‘Last man on earth’ kind of thing?” I waggle my eyebrows at her.
“Exactly. But that’s over now. We’ve come to an agreement that doesn’t involve tricking each other.”
“Would it have been a trick?”
“Would what have been a trick?”
“The two of us taking a shower and sleeping in your bed afterward? That was your original plan, right?”
She lets out a breath. “Yep. It would’ve been nothing but a trick.”
“And now we’re not tricking each other?”
She’s annoyed. “I just said that.”
“Fine. If you’re so desperate to sleep with me, what do I care.” I turn and wave my hand at the hallway that leads to the stairs. “Come on, then. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 9 - CLOVER
I’m on the second floor of the house, just heading up the stairs that lead to my attic bedroom, when I have doubts about what’s going to happen next. Not just the part about spending the night together in my childhood bedroom, but the entire offer to ‘save me.’
Because it occurs to me that this offer of food might’ve been a ruse to get my guard down. And now that I’ve actually formed this thought in my head, it seems very likely that it’s the case. Because it worked.
When I was looking at him downstairs, I saw a person, not a kidnapper. And that’s quite a switch from my perception of him earlier in the day.
How many ways did he threaten to kill me?
Several. And at no point did I ever think he was joking, either.
So why the hell did I agree to sleep in the same bedroom with him? Was it really just because I wanted a bed instead of a hard, wooden floor?
Or did my perception change because he took the blindfold off and I was able to get a good look at him?
I’m leaning towards number two when I reach the top of the stairs and take a few steps into my bedroom. I turn to face him as he reaches the top step too.
We pause, studying each other for a moment. And this makes my heart skip. Not because he’s handsome. I kinda knew that since I did actually see his face that first day. More because I now have time to actually notice his good looks. There were so many other emotions clamoring for top spot in my mind, his hotness factor didn’t even crack the top hundred things I was focusing on the past two days.
Now… well, now everything feels different. He has offered to save me and not let me die of thirst and starvation. And stupid me just… believed him.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
“You’re having second thoughts about this, aren’t ya?”
“No. I mean”—I pause to sigh—“a little bit.”
“I’m not interested.”
“In?”
“You. Like at all.”
“Oh, you’re into men?”
“What? No.”
“Then why did you say it like that? I’m not ugly or anything.”
“I’m just not interested.”
“You have a girlfriend down in your tunnel?”
“No. I told you. I was in our version of prison for the last six years.”
“Were there women down there?”
“No.”
I press my lips together and suck in a breath.
He closes the bedroom door behind him, turning the lock. Then he looks at me with a smile. “You’re not my type.”
“OK, then.” I turn my back to him and walk over to my bed. Then take a seat on the edge and look at my feet. My heels are still very sore from all that kicking I did the first day, trying to get his attention. But at least they’re no longer bloody. Everything about my body seems… tight. I’m wound up and unable to relax. And the tension inside me is looking for a release, I think, because as I try and force myself to relax, I start trembling. And no matter how many moments I take to close my eyes and breathe, this trembling feels like the precursor to an explosion. An eruption of pent-up emotions or something.
To take my mind off what’s happening to my body, I look up and study the man who’s been holding me prisoner. He’s tall, fit and a bit on the muscular side. He’s wearing black pants, a black t-shirt, and black boots. All of this lends an air of ‘military’ to his look. His hair is light brown, which is nearly the same color as his eyes. They almost look hazel, but not in a blue-green Collin Creed way. More like a… lion or a wolf. “You’re not a werewolf, are you?”