Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
She’d pulled almost everything from her bag of tricks since she first arrived—nothing was breaking down his walls, but she would persist. Everyone had a crack in their foundation. She just had to find his and chip away at it. Slowly.
“There are some clothes from your luggage in the closet for tomorrow, and new pajamas and underwear in the drawer. They should fit you okay.” She shuddered as a breeze caught her and gripped her wet hair. She’d taken a long, hot shower, just as he’d promised he’d let her do when they arrived—right after sending the text messages. He sat outside the shower stall, smoking, occasionally looking down at his phone. He appeared to have no interest in stealing glances at her nudity, be it taking a peek or all out gawking. Her vulnerability wasn’t his concern. In some odd way, she didn’t feel naked before him at all. As the water had cascaded down her body, the suds rounded her nipples and pooled in along her garden, his gaze didn’t trace her form, or show the tell-tale signs of a man in the throes of lust. She tried to bend certain ways, fold her limber body in curves of conquest, and he didn’t blink an eye. She didn’t want to fuck him, she wanted to trap him. He didn’t even come close to her spiderweb…
Maybe he wasn’t attracted to her after all, or maybe he’d had so much pussy in his lifetime, it seemed all the same?
“My sister used to stay in here when she’d visit,” he stated, snatching her out of her deliberations. “I noticed you didn’t have many pajamas in your luggage.” I often sleep naked. “Y’all are about the same size.” He pointed lazily across the room at a closet. “I ordered your food. It’ll be here soon.”
Before she could respond, he walked out, locking the door. She looked frantically about, trying to find windows to escape through. She checked them all. They were unable to be opened—not without a code input in the digital lock on each of them. She checked out the air vents. Far too small for her to climb through. She looked around checking for cameras, too. Certainly there had to be one or two, or even more, but they were far less obvious.
It doesn’t matter if cameras are here or not anyway. Why do I care? That should be the least of my concerns. I’m in big trouble. This guy isn’t easy to weaken or work over. I can’t find his vulnerabilities. I can’t even figure out what makes him happy. Not satisfied or content, but actually happy… I have to keep trying.
After a few minutes of sitting on the bed, crying on the inside then plotting once more, she got up and stripped out of the robe she was wearing. She opened up one of the drawers, and saw a baby pink satin pajama top and bottom. She removed them from the drawer and slipped them on, nice and easy. They felt good against her skin. She found her eyes fluttering, toying with exhaustion—no doubt the adrenaline rush. The rough few days she’d had, missing her friends, her job. Feeling lonely, angry, lost, bruised, beaten. Degraded.
How could I be so stupid? Why would I just drive around without getting a lay of the land first? I know better than that! Well hell, it’s not like his warehouse is on a damn map! This may have been unavoidable.
As she wrestled with her thoughts, she turned to the sound of the door being unlocked and the knob turning. There stood James in a pair of black pajama pants. His hair was wet as if he, too, had just finished showering.
“Your dinner is here.” He held up a white paper bag. It smelled of fries and everything she missed from home balled up as one.
“Should I eat it in this room, or come out?”
He crossed his arms and looked at her for a moment.
“What do you want to do?”
“I want to come out. I don’t want to be cooped in here for any longer than I have to be. Can I talk to you while I eat? I’m not trying anything, not up to anything, I promise, James. I’m just… scared.”
He shrugged. “Come with me to the kitchen. I’ll drink, you’ll eat. I may let you talk to me. We’ll see…”
CHAPTER EIGHT
I hang with nothin’ but thieves, smugglers, and killers. Men like me who survive this life are built to last. This isn’t a weak man’s game, and I was winning. My life was going just fine until this fucking woman came along. I’ve had to do this a time or two before—snatch someone up—but under completely different circumstances. A guy that was stealing from me, a traitor, things like that. Never in my life have I had to target someone not in the life, a person not in some way one of our own. Now, I’ve kidnapped a bitch named Honey, and she is sittin’ here in my kitchen like it’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood. If you didn’t know the circumstances and just looked at her, right here, right now, you’d think she was completely content. Not a care in the world. I don’t understand her, but a part of me wants to.