With a deep breath, I gave him my answer: “I will trust you. Yes.”
The world stills, his breath catching. Does he sense the lie or fear I’m telling the truth?
“Good.” He finds my eyes again. “If you trust me, I will never force you. But if you cross me—” his gaze slides to my hard nipples “—you are mine. I will use this body however and whenever I see fit. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll think Newell was a gentle angel by comparison.”
My voice sticks in my throat, and all I can do is nod.
“Then we have an agreement.” He pushes off me and stands.
I sit up, my mind grasping at the frayed strands of this ‘agreement.’ “So, as long as I trust you … you won’t touch me unless I say it’s okay?”
He arches a brow. “Oh, silly little lamb. Didn’t you listen? I won’t force you. Touching is an entirely different matter, don’t you think?” He sits on the bed next to me and runs his fingers down my cheek, past my collar bone and between my breasts.
My breath snags as he circles one nipple, but he never touches it. The peak hardens, tingling and hyper-sensitive. He does the same to my other breast, his eyes on mine as his warm caress begins to cross the wires inside me. Fear melds with heat, which both twirl around a central circuit of desire. Mortification washes over me as wetness builds between my thighs, and I close my eyes.
“Eyes on me, lamb.”
I force my gaze back to his. Dark eyes consume me as he keeps up his sensual tease. My breathing speeds up, and I press my thighs together to try and stem the pressure.
He smirks and pulls his hand away as he stands. “You’ll be begging me to touch you in no time. And to do plenty more than that.”
“Never.” I shake my head. Whatever game he’s playing isn’t what I’m here for. I hug my knees.
“We’ll see.” He strides to the door. “Until tomorrow night, then.”
“Your back. There’s blood.” A stripe of red has seeped through his light blue shirt.
“Don’t worry about it.” He doesn’t turn around, just leaves my room and pulls the door closed behind him.
I roll over and snatch my dress from my nightstand and yank it over my head. What was that? I stare at the door long after he’s gone, replaying his voice in my head. His warm breath at my ear, the way his hard body barely brushed against mine, the length of him on my cheek. I press my thighs together, because something wrong is happening inside me. I can feel myself getting wet, can feel the heat flowing through me as I think about his eyes, his lips, his body.
It’s wrong. So wrong that I bound off the bed, hurry into my bathroom, and flip on the shower. I get in and turn the hot water down until it’s chilly, my body aching from the cold.
“Better.” My teeth chatter as I step out and towel off, my unexpected heat extinguished by the shock of the cold water. This is better. I can handle cold and pain, but desire for my captor? No. Unacceptable.
I slip into bed and turn out my light. His face appears when I close my eyes, but I push that thought away and, instead, get lost in a memory of a fun weekend with Georgia when we were both fourteen. Her golden hair flowing in the wind as she runs soothes me to sleep, though the phantom feeling of Adam’s breath at my neck crashes through the memory right as I drift off.
A soft knock at my door has me sitting straight up. In the faint bathroom light, I see the handle turning back and forth, squeaking lightly. Flashbacks of Newell have my heart beating so loud I can feel it vibrating through my chest. I yank my blanket to my chin, as if that can ward off whatever devil is at my door.
“Delilah!” A whisper hiss cuts through the silence. Sarah’s voice.
I tamp the dread down and creep over to the door.
“Hurry! The Spinner will get us.” Another voice.
What is going on?
I flip the lock and open the door. Three girls rush inside and plaster themselves against the wall under the camera.
“Delilah?” A Spinner enters the dormitory from a powder room near the main door. She can’t see the terrified Maidens to my right.
“Sorry… I, um, thought I heard something.”
Her expression sours. “You shouldn’t be up. Go back to bed immediately. Do this again and I’ll notify the Head Spinner.”
“Yes, ma’am. Very sorry.” I lower my chin in deference and close the door.
The Maidens have disappeared into my bathroom.
I don’t look at the camera, even though it takes every ounce of self-control I have, and shuffle to the bathroom.