Dangerous Thirst (Possessing Her Book 1), page 11
She was upset, but I didn’t care. I was the one who would have to struggle. She was temptation personified, walking around taunting me at all times. The thought of sleeping beside her without touching her felt like torture, but it was probably better than worrying she was jumping out of the window at any moment.
I had to look away, focusing on my own food to avoid her pitiful pout. She was definitely a spoiled kid—there was no convincing me otherwise. I’d asked the woman who gave me the new location details if her family was looking for her, and she assured me there was nothing to worry about. Of course, I couldn’t trust her, though. She didn’t even know about the first drop-off, so how could I trust her to know about Olivia’s family?
But I’d done my own research, after deciding against involving one of my dedicated researchers to bring back her life story. The last thing I needed was a paper trail with her name on it once she made the news. But that was what shocked me—there was no news about her, not one single headline. I’d gone as far as checking the missing persons reports, and no one had even reported her missing.
“Can I have my drink?” Olivia asked, pointing to the two plastic cups.
“Do you want Sprite or Coke?” I asked, watching as she twisted her lips while she contemplated. Her nose crinkled, and I tried to make out what looked to be a few freckles on the bridge of her nose.
“Sprite!” I maneuvered to reach for the cup, before she blurted, “No! Coke!”
“Which one is it?” I turned to her, feigning annoyance, but I actually found it adorable.
“Sprite! Yes, Sprite. Sorry,” she mumbled as she stuffed a fry into her mouth.
While there was still a part of me that hated to make her hide in her shell in that way, I also had a rush of adrenaline from the way she cowered to my control. As I handed her the drink, she refused to look up at me, whispering a low thank-you before taking a sip through the straw.
Watching her cheeks hollow made the blood flow to my lower region, imagining her mouth sucking on me. I had to push the erotic thought to the back of my mind to continue eating without bending her over.
My food was gone way before Olivia’s as she leisurely picked over her fries as if I hadn’t starved her for the day. Wondering about her eating habits, I watched her closely, dying to know what was going through her mind.
It wouldn’t be in my best interest to admit I wasn’t going to hurt her, but I didn’t totally enjoy her being afraid of me. Before the other night, I’d never hit a woman a day in my life. And as long as she didn’t try to escape, I didn’t plan on hitting her again.
It was a major part of my decision to change the way we were doing things so that she had no chance to escape, which would be the only reason I would have to discipline her.
“Are you finished?” I asked when she decreased in pace further, barely eating at all.
“Will I get to have breakfast tomorrow?” she asked with worry in her voice.
My heart sank at the thought she was trying to eat as much as she could because she had no idea when her next meal was coming. Though I hadn’t eaten all day either, she probably thought I was starving her for punishment.
“Yes,” I answered flatly, hoping not to let on how guilty I felt.
“Okay, then I’m done.” She dropped the fry she was holding.
I stood, and Olivia rushed to her feet as my arm dragged hers. Thankfully, she didn’t complain, which made me feel like she was accepting her submissive position.
In the hallway was an old bookshelf filled with books my parents had collected over the years. Neither of them had great taste, but I didn’t set up cable in the house I never visited, and lying in silence would have been unbearable, so I thought it best we find some entertainment.
“Pick a book.” I tugged her arm until she was standing in front of the bookcase.
She kneeled, forcing me to do the same as she ran her fingers across the shelf dedicated to my mother. Each book title sounded more cheesy than the last, but she picked one, pulling it from its place to reveal a shirtless pirate. I rolled my eyes before skimming a different shelf, one dedicated to my father.
He loved reading mysteries, so I picked an older one. It was from the days when men were alpha, and women knew their place. Satisfied with our selections, I showed her to my bedroom, which was just as sparsely decorated as hers.
“Do you need to use the restroom?” I asked.
Olivia looked at me with confusion, and it occurred to me that she hadn’t considered she would have to do her business with me standing right next to her. Honestly, neither had I, but it was the only way I could ensure she wouldn’t misbehave after her recent behavior.
“No.” She shook her head.
We walked toward the bed together, and then I nodded for her to climb on first. She did, and I followed as we stretched and turned until we could relax beside each other comfortably. She moved as far away as our arms would stretch, which was fine for me.
My new tactic wasn’t a ploy to get close to her. I’d never had a problem seducing women. I merely needed to make sure I knew where she was at all times, and now that would be easy.
We settled in nicely as I opened my book, beginning a novel that made me think of my father, though he was the last person I wanted to envision. I didn’t need to consider what he and my mother would be thinking of me as I sat handcuffed to a beautiful woman, holding her captive in my childhood bedroom.
20. Chapter Eighteen
Olivia
Tuesday - Wednesday
Reading a romance book was far from a good move lying in bed with my captor. I found it hard to concentrate with every movement from him directly affecting me as our arms were joined as one.
When he put his book down, I was happy to stop reading about a love story that was just too good to be true. It wasn’t how the real world worked, and I’d given up on fantasies long ago.
My captor said it was time for bed before shutting the lights out, and my fear intensified in the darkness. Was this when he was going to make his move? My heart raced in anticipation, but he appeared to be completely uninterested in me, lying flat on his back as his breathing slowed to a steady pace.
How he could sleep in such circumstances was beside me, literally. Glancing over, I realized he was just going to go to sleep, although I found it nearly impossible. Flipping from one side to the next, I struggled to find comfort with my arm attached to a strange man.
It was a rarity to have his attention for so long, and I debated if I should take the risk of asking questions, knowing how quickly he could shift from kind to fiercely violent when I stepped out of place.
“Why did you pick me?” My voice was barely above a whisper. I needed to know—it was the first and only question I needed an answer to. What had drawn him to me and made him take me from the life I’d worked so hard for? Did he know my story? Would it even change anything?
I waited silently, guessing how he would answer, but nothing came. He was still and silent, and I feared the cold and easily frustrated side of him had returned. That side was scary, and I wished I could take back my words until I heard him shift slightly before clearing his throat.
“I didn’t pick you,” he said without expounding.
Surely, he had to assume that would lead to further questions because it was no information at all. If he hadn’t chosen me, who had? And why? I turned toward him, though he remained staring at the ceiling, undeterred by my movements.
“Then who did? Why would anyone want to take me? I’ve never done anything to anyone. You have to listen to me—this has to be a mistake,” I tried to explain, but he remained silent.
Watching him, I was certain he was listening, and I decided to seize the opportunity. Having his attention in this way was new, and I needed to use the time to tell him more about me and make my case for freedom.
“I don’t have anyone. I’m an orphan. My mom died, and my father deserted me before I could remember his name.”
When he ignored me without closing his eyes, I decided to continue. “There was this lady, Ms. Jackson—she was my case worker when I was a child. Not having parents, she was so important because she was the only person who ever seemed to truly care about me. Since I was young, I knew I wanted to be to other children what she was to me.”
He was listening. Even once, I thought I saw him squint, shocked by something I’d said, so I kept going. “When I graduated from college with my degree in social work, I went back to Ms. Jackson and asked her to help me. We never lost contact over the years, because when you don’t have anyone, you cling to the people who show interest like the oxygen you need to breathe.
“I wanted to be like her, but to other children. Hope and safety was what I was missing, and I knew I could give that to other children if I just had the resources. Ms. Jackson helped me make it happen.”
I smiled, thinking of my new house and all that was to come of it this week, if this horrible incident never happened. “She helped me apply for grants and permits to open my own foster home, and I finally got it. The furniture is supposed to be delivered tomorrow. And cable will be installed next week, but only in the living room. The last thing I want is to have my kids getting lost in television.”
I looked over again, but still he wasn’t responding. He hadn’t stopped me, though, and to me that was a victory. Something deep in the pit of my stomach said there was a way to change his mind about me if only he knew the real me. I wasn’t the type of girl who should be here. Life had dealt me a bad enough hand; I didn’t need such misfortune in addition to the loneliness and poverty.
“I guess if they’re into books, I’ll never prohibit that, because reading is different, a way to learn language and vocabulary. The kids in the orphanage who watched television did nothing else, so I’m a bit biased. They’d bully everyone into watching what they wanted, and I just felt that it was an ugly habit to pick up.
“There won’t be any of that in my home. Safety is my main concern, and I don’t want any of them to feel alone. That’s my main memory of childhood—loneliness. Knowing that no one ever cared about me hurt bad, but Ms. Jackson changed that. And I’m going to do the same. My children are going to know that they’re protected in my house.”
This time I leaned up, needing to make sure he heard me. “They’re moving in this week. At least they’re supposed to. I guess now I’ll have to let them down like everyone else. Unless you’ll help me. Please, please, please, can you let me go? I promise not to say anything to anyone!”
Waiting, I watched him, but his face remained passive in the night. He was unmoved by my speech, and I feared that there would be no convincing him.
Suddenly, he turned to face me, draping his arms around me before pulling me close. Terror rushed through me, with every hair on my arms standing tall. He was so close, and again his scent filled my senses.
“Go to sleep,” he growled, his chin resting on the top of my head.
Again, I tried to no avail, my body reacting to the closeness in ways I didn’t expect. I was so turned on I could feel the slickness between my thighs. Syncing my breathing with his, I found myself falling asleep to the waves of his chest.
“Wake up,” he whispered, tugging at my wrist. Looking down, I saw him unlocking the handcuffs. “Shower time.” He nodded toward a door I hadn’t been through yet.
His bathroom was far more spacious than mine. The shower was tiled and glassed in, and I quickly undressed before climbing inside. The same designer shampoo rested on a shelf, and I lathered my hair before covering myself in suds of Dove soap.
The door to the shower opened, and I rushed to cover my body with my hands as my captor walked inside the steamy shower.
“What are you doing?” I yelped.
“Everything together means everything.” He shrugged, reaching beside me to grab the shampoo.
He behaved like he showered with strange women regularly, but I’d never done any of this before, and it was completely uncomfortable. My eyes drifted over his body, admiring his sculpted body. His muscles were so well-defined, he should be on billboards.
It dawned on me how intimate spending so much time with him was going to be, because he was serious about doing everything together. We washed quickly, as I was rushing to get out of such a tight space with him.
Once we finished, I was drying with a bath towel in the bedroom, preparing to put the same clothes I had on when he pointed to a closet. “Find something in there,” he suggested.
The closet had a mix of women’s and men’s clothes, and I opted for a floral-print dress that came just below my knee. Dressing in the bathroom, I was happy he didn’t feel the need to watch that part of my prep because I didn’t have any underclothes. Still, I was grateful to be clean and wearing clean clothes.
As I combed through my hair, I wondered if he had given any thought to my revelation from the previous night. It was the first time I had revealed my plan to anyone besides Ms. Jackson, and of all people it was a man who had captured me in the middle of the night for hire.
Unless he was a complete sociopath, there had to be some reaction to learning about me as a person as opposed to a name and a job. I hoped that seeing me as my true self would persuade him in some way, and now it was time to find out.
What he hadn’t considered was how willing I was to bare my soul and give him every detail of my life. There had to be something that would strike a chord with him, and I was going to find it if he was going to spend the entire day with me.
My plan was simple—to tell him as much as I could until his cold demeanor softened and I could convince him to let me go. My story was a sad one, but I didn’t need his pity. I needed to be home to welcome the children who had been counting down the days until they had a place they could call a home.
Walking out of the bathroom, I felt a bit more confident and optimistic about my ability to persuade my captor. He was dressed in a white T-shirt and gray sweatpants. In my mind I could still see his abs through the thin cotton.
“Come here,” he ordered, maintaining his strict persona.
I met him at the bed, where he handcuffed us again, binding our wrists together. While I didn’t know what he had planned for the day, I knew what I needed to do. He wasn’t all bad—that was apparent from the way he listened to me before holding me until I fell asleep.
Even if he wanted to pretend to be this heartless man, I wasn’t buying it, and my day was going to be spent trying to figure him out. How hard could it be to get to know someone when they’re literally connected to you?
It was the closest I’d ever been to another person, and I was determined to make every second count. It was strange how my heart rate increased when our bodies were close. A small bit of it was fear, no doubt, but there was also a mix of excitement and lust.
There was something about him that intrigued me and attracted me to him in ways I thought impossible. He was only sharing a shell of himself, but after revealing myself, I wanted to know who he was. There had to be more than the moody man who switched from caring to violent like a light switch, and I was determined to learn every detail.
21. Chapter Nineteen
Hunter
Wednesday
My mind was dancing in circles after my shower with Olivia. She looked even better without clothes on, and I’d caught her glancing at my body as well. I could tell she thought I was sexy, and that was all the encouragement I needed to make a move on the desires that were beginning to torture me nonstop.
She was so helpless, yet so feisty, a wonderful combination. The way she backed into the corner when I walked into the shower made me bite my tongue as I fought my amusement. Whether she knew it or not, she’d continued to move closer to me until she left the shower. And even then, I couldn’t be sure if she brushed against me intentionally, but it was a brazen accident, if she didn’t intend to.
When I pointed to the closet, I’d hoped she would pick another baggy outfit, anything to calm my mind, but instead, she’d found a floral dress. It must have been from a clothing drive my mother hosted because I didn’t recognize it from her own wardrobe, and I definitely had no use for it.
Regardless, Olivia wore it well. Although it came below her knee, she still exuded sex appeal, which was impressive considering the fit was anything but flattering. She stood in the corner, looking a bit timid until I called her over to the bed. Thankfully, she gave me her hand without a fight, and I handcuffed us together without issue.
“Where are we going?” she asked as I tugged her wrist, leading her from the bedroom.
She was a ball of curiosity, always asking one question after another, despite already knowing I wasn’t going to give her the answers she wanted. It was a constant game, and in the depths of my subconscious, I knew I enjoyed the banter, even if it was one-sided.
