She cried out as he grabbed her wrist. The pressure provided enough pain for her to drop the knife. She pulled her feet back, not wanting them to be cut.
Milah couldn’t look away as she stared at Damon. He was completely naked.
She hadn’t thought this through. She’d never seen a man naked before. So long as she didn’t look down, she wouldn’t see just how naked she was.
The shower sprayed between them, but Damon decided to close the distance, and then he was right next to her.
All she wore was a thin, cotton negligee. It reminded her of something out of a historical period drama. There was no shape to it, but it provided coverage and modesty. With his hands on her shoulders, his body so close to hers, she wished she had some kind of armor to keep him away. There was nothing to protect her.
“You do have a death wish, don’t you?” he asked.
She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he held her firm.
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you? You knew I would grab it.”
He chuckled. “You’re exactly right. What I want to know is how a Russo can hold a knife so expertly.”
“I’m no expert.”
“You have been able to fight my men, take them by surprise, figure out ways of escaping. Climbing down the side of buildings, and now you’re able to hold a knife in a way that shows it’s not just self-defense. How?”
She wanted to avert her gaze, but with how he looked at her, it was next to impossible.
She couldn’t tell him. This was part of her training.
“I have no idea what you mean,” she said.
“They could train you to take care of yourself, but they sure didn’t train you to be a good liar. You’re shitty at it.”
“And you’re a shitty captor.”
As far as comebacks went, that one was awful, and she tried not to wince. All he did was laugh, like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.
To him, it probably was.
Damon took her by surprise, though. Rather than call his men and order her death, or to be locked up, he closed the distance between them.
She was right.
Her negligee was flimsy and not designed to ward off his body. Certainly a rather pointy part of his anatomy. She tensed up as his cock pressed against her stomach.
It had to be that. Or he was harvesting some kind of alien life force.
She wanted to look, but she kept her gaze on his.
This was the only way to survive.
Even as her heart raced and the desire to look down was so strong, she held it together, against all the odds. It would be so easy to look down. To see what he was … keeping alive.
“You think I’m a captor? Do you think this is some kind of romance tale?”
She glared at him. How dare he mock her? He had no idea who he was dealing with. She tried to push him away, but all that achieved was to bring him even closer as he pressed her hands above her head, locking her in place.
“I hate you.”