by Nashoda Rose
Page 11
I kept my eyes closed and repeated over and over in my head that nothing could touch me, nothing could touch me.
“If he loses his fight you’re mine. ” Raul squeezed my nipple hard, and I winced. “You’re like all the rest. Do not think you’re anything special. ”
With that he stood and strode away with Jacob and Alfonzo. I collapsed forward, my hands covering my face as I sobbed, letting my hair fall forward so no one could see. Raul was terrifying. Calculated and cruel. He enjoyed watching others suffer. He had no morals or values and did what he wanted without thought to the ramifications for others. It was dangerous. He was dangerous.
“Emily. Look at me. ” Logan was standing in the ring, sweating and his chest heaving. Our eyes met, and I saw the fury burning within the depths of his dark eyes. I didn’t know whether he was angry at me, because I’d been crying or was it from something else? He stared at me for a few moments and finally I settled down enough to stop trembling. Then Logan nodded, turned away, and began fighting Dave again.
I had no idea what Logan’s stare was about, but I did feel more together . . . Well, as together as I could be kneeling in a gym surrounded by men who could and would abuse me if given the chance.
I guessed it was about an hour when Logan finished his practice. I watched him speak quietly to Dave away from the other men in the gym, and he didn’t look happy. I saw Dave glance over at me, then his mouth moved quickly and angrily as if he was just as pissed off as Logan.
When Logan turned toward me, I quickly lowered my head and kept my eyes down. I stayed that way until I saw the tips of his toes next to my knees.
“Dave will take you back. ”
My breath hitched, and I wanted to protest, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. The fear of the consequences was too great to ignore. “He won’t hurt you, Emily. ”
“Yes . . . Master. ” I wanted to die. Oh God, I wanted to curl up in a ball and die of mortification. Calling him Master was degrading, and it made me feel like less of a person, like my mother used to do. A useless object that took up space and ate her food.
Logan stroked his hand over my head once then turned and walked away.
I stood when Dave told me to, then walked a few feet behind him back to my room. I never looked at anyone, not even out of the corner of my eye. I had no idea what Dave would do to me, and that was scarier than knowing. I’d been too drugged to remember much of what he was like in the car on the way here, but what I did notice was that he failed to have the lust lingering in his eyes when he looked at me. Instead, I saw sympathy and pity. I hated the pity, but I’d take it over Alfonzo’s lust-filled threats.
Dave stopped outside my room. “He’ll protect you when he can. But he’s faltering. Do exactly as you’re told, and you will survive this, Emily. ” I was taken aback by his words. He opened the door, and I walked inside. He shut it behind me, and I heard the key turn and then his footsteps walk away.
I was asleep in bed when I heard the door open later that evening. I sat up, pulling the sheet with me, and about to go kneel on the floor when his voice stopped me.
“Stay in bed. ” His tone was tired and gentle, quiet.
He walked straight into the bathroom, shut the door, and I heard the taps turn then the water blast. I lay back down and tucked the sheet around me. It wasn’t long before he came out, the light in the bathroom illuminating his naked body.
The tweak between my legs shattered any resolve I had to not be attracted to this man. My belly dropped as I watched him stride over to the side of the bed and then drag the covers back with the sheet tucked under me.
He slipped in bed then laid back, his elbow crooked above his head and his other arm resting on his abdomen. He looked . . . God, he looked like Logan. The Logan I knew. The Logan I fell in love with. There was nothing cold about him tonight; actually he appeared vulnerable, and his eyes . . . his eyes held a hint of sadness. Could this man even feel sadness? Could I be reading him wrong? I’d read him wrong before, and yet . . . I wanted to hold him. I just wasn’t sure why.
Was it because I felt alone and scared, and I wanted someone? Anyone? Even if it was the man who brought me here? Or was it to solidify my place with him? To show him affection so he wouldn’t be inclined to sell me.
I slowly moved closer to him, my heart beating erratically with fear of rejection, and yes . . . yes, anticipation of touching him. Not because I had to touch him, but because I wanted to. I glanced up at his face, and his eyes were closed, his breathing even.
I pictured us lying beside one another in the park after he’d played me his guitar and sang to me. That wasn’t a lie was it? How could it have been? It felt real and sincere.
I held my breath as I slipped my hand on top of his lying on his stomach. His breathing remained the same, and his eyes remained closed. I moved closer, my body inches from his, soaking in his heat, then I lay my head on his chest.
“Mouse,” he whispered, and then his arm wrapped around me and tucked me into his side.
I sighed, and a few minutes later I was asleep.
Chapter 6
Day 9
It was still dark when I woke. My head was nestled on Logan’s chest, and his arm was around me, fingers slowly caressing up and down my back. I knew he was awake; I could hear his breathing, and it wasn’t slow, long breaths, but . . . awake breaths. I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to speak, but there was something in Logan that changed when we lay together like this. So I took the chance, and I shifted my head up, my cheek sliding over the smooth, hard muscles of his chest.
He was watching me, and when I met his eyes my breath seized. I was caught in the trap of his desire that was swimming in the dark depths. Controlling my reaction was . . . well, it was impossible. He still could turn me on with one look, and all the sweet flooded back to me like being hit by a tidal wave.
“Logan. ” I stiffened after I said it.
He sighed and then closed his eyes. When he opened them again, I saw what looked like haunted turmoil.
I wanted to kiss him, touch him, feel him. Crush him to me and take away all the fear and just . . . I just wanted to feel protected and loved by him again.
My lips were close to his chest, and I couldn’t stop myself as I kissed him. It felt as if it was a goodbye to everything we’d lost and sadness filled me. Especially when I realized that he hadn’t lost anything, he’d gained. A single tear escaped to land on his skin.
I started to pull away and he groaned then his arm tightened around me. When I looked at him again, there was no anger, no aloofness, just Logan. The Logan I knew and . . . yes, loved.
“Eme,” he whispered.
The scorching flame between my legs was lit with hope, desire, and need. I craved this man; I loved him, and I wanted him back, but I was scared too. I was afraid of what these feelings would do to me when he turned around and became the man I feared.
I fought the desire, and I failed. He hadn’t moved toward me, and I was uncertain why, considering Logan was always the dominant one. I knew he’d never love me or care about me like I’d once thought he had, but I wanted comfort. I craved it, and if he gave it to me physically than I’d take it.
I trailed kisses up his chest to his neck, and his fingers curled in my hair. He closed his eyes and groaned. Slow and hesitant, I moved up and onto his body, instantly feeling the heat of his skin sink into me. I’d only done this once and had hoped he’d take the lead.
“Eme. ” He tone was gentle, and a heated rush of goose bumps sprinkled across my skin. “Jesus, what you do to me. ”
My mind was all fucked up as it fought against the comfort I needed. I’d been beaten, threatened and starved, witnessed horrific abuse and I lived each moment in terror. I yearned for some kind of comfort—even if it was from the monster who had lied to me about everything. I had tried so hard to stop feeling anything for this man who shattered my heart and now . . . now I wanted him to mak
e love to me. It was sick. I was sick.
I lowered my lips to his, and at first he didn’t reciprocate as I kissed him, slipping my tongue inside his mouth, and then . . . then he broke, and his hands grabbed me on either side of my head, and he kissed me back.
Logan. He was my Logan.
I moaned as he rolled me over without our lips disconnecting. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he was on his knees between mine.
“Oh God,” I whispered breathlessly.
He pulled back, and I grabbed for him, but he’d become the one in control again, and he kissed his way down my body until he was hovering over my pussy. I pulsated. I panted. I needed him, and yet he stopped. He wasn’t moving.
“Please, Logan. ”
“Tell me. Tell me what you want. ”
“You. ”
“You have me. What else?”
His mouth was inches away from me, and if I arched upward I could . . .
“Tell me,” he ordered.
“Kiss me. ”
“Where?”
Oh God. Why was he making me do this? I was so frustrated that I threw my arms back and gripped the headboard. “My pussy. I want you to taste me, Logan. ”
He didn’t hesitate any longer, and within minutes I was writhing and screaming with uncontainable desire. He did that to me. Everything in him right now was the man I knew and loved. There was no fighting that fact.
Logan drove me to begging, and then I crested and came hard, screaming his name. He slid up my body and kissed me again with fierce possession.
We lay silent, him spooning me, and his fingers drawing slow circles over my abdomen. It was sweet, and I loved the feel of his hardened fingertips which I suspected came from playing the guitar. I never thought for a second that I’d fall into this man’s arms again, and I knew when the sun’s rays shone in the morning I’d hate myself, but for right now I was going to take what he’d given me—comfort.
After a while, when I couldn’t fall back asleep, I asked, “What about your band? You . . . I thought you were going on tour. ” It was a long shot that he’d tell me anything, but I hoped we could talk like we used to. Maybe I could learn why he was doing this. What had changed so drastically?
He kept drawing on me while he spoke. “We’ll get there. ”
“When you leave here?”
“Yeah, Emily. ”
Okay, so that meant he didn’t plan on staying forever. Or keeping me? Oh God, would he leave me here? Was he going to sell me? My throat tightened as I said, “When?”
“We can’t be having this conversation. ”
I had to talk to try to stop the panic from taking control. I had to pretend, at least in the dark, that we were somewhere else. That if he left, he’d take me with him. “How did the band get together?”
Logan chuckled, and the sound made me jump then stiffen, uncertain why he’d laugh. My panicked mind thought maybe I’d pushed him with the questions and he was laughing because now he was going to punish me. God, that sounded ridiculous. Logan wouldn’t laugh if he was going to hurt me, he’d be angry.
I was losing it. I was fighting the fear of him leaving me here or selling me and everything he did I was second guessing, trying to decipher what it meant. But I couldn’t, could I? Because I didn’t know who Logan was.
