by H S Russell
He eyes my clothes once again. “I don’t have anything other than my own shirts for you to wear while I wash your stuff.”
I blush at the thought of wearing his clothes against my bare skin. It seems intimate, far too intimate for our situation. I’m not sure I could bear to wear anything of his. “It won’t take long for them to wash and dry. I should be okay for a few hours.”
He looks me for a few moments, then sighs. “Fine. Have them ready when I bring your breakfast tomorrow, and I’ll try to have them done by lunch.”
“Thank you.” It galls me to say it, but politeness is too ingrained in me to ignore my manners.
He nods and turns to go.
“Wait,” I call out. He turns to look at me from over his shoulder, making his soft T-shirt tighten across what looks like acres of muscled shoulders.
“What?” he asks when I don’t say anything, far too caught up in looking at his muscles. When my gaze finally meets his, one side of his mouth is crooked up into a slight smile.
Embarrassed at being caught checking him out, I ignore him. “What’s your name?”
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “As far as you’re concerned, I don’t have a name.”
This time, it’s me who sighs at him. “Then if you won’t tell me your name, can you at least bring me some books or some cards or something to do? I’m going mad in here by myself.”
He gives me the once-over, then nods before leaving.
I consider this a win.
Chapter 6
Allie
Wakefulness slams through me instantly as silence screams at me to wake up. That something is different. When I open my eyes, I see immediately that something is, indeed, different.
Bright morning sunlight floods the room from the opened curtains, curtains I was sure I’d closed last night. The rays pouring into the room trace a path to the handsome man sitting beside my bed. He’s resting his head against his hand while he reads from a tablet. The beams of light make air molecules and dust motes dance around him.
He’s wearing his usual soft, well-worn T-shirt and even well-worn jeans. His bare feet are propped up on the bed. My gaze travels up his legs, noting the way the soft denim molds to his thighs. The hands gripping the tablet look strong, like they know how to work. The tanned skin of his corded, muscular forearms are dusted with hair. Those forearms draw my eyes up to strong, capable shoulders that are perfectly molded by his tight cotton T-shirt.
When I lift my gaze to his face, I feel the familiar pull toward him. It’s gotten stronger and stronger with every day that I’ve been here and we’ve interacted.
His face isn’t tense or angry any longer. Instead, he appears completely comfortable, like he knows that he has everything under control.
His dark brown hair is just long enough to wave at the ends. It’s just as thick as I remembered, but softer in the morning light. His tanned skin makes me think he spends a lot of time outdoors. He hasn’t shaved in a day or two, leaving his face covered in a sexy scruff.
I glance toward the window for just a second, but when I look back, our eyes meet. His hazel eyes stare into me, through me, as his gaze burns into mine. He tenses up as he puts down the tablet and takes his feet off the bed, all without taking his eyes off me. He looks relaxed as he rests his forearms on his knees, but I know that he’s not.
“Allie,” he finally says, his masculine voice breaking the spell the morning had cast. “I’ve decided that it’s time for us to have a longer talk.”
“And it couldn’t wait until I woke up?” Knowing that he’s been watching me sleep is not only disconcerting, it’s flat-out alarming. And it’s yet another thing that seems far too intimate.
He smirks at me. “It was my turn to take you by surprise.”
“Ah. That makes sense. Because of course you don’t already have the upper hand where I’m concerned. God forbid I get one over on you.”
A corner of his mouth lifts in a semblance of a very small smile, and I take a few moments to sit up and scoot back until I can lean comfortably against the headboard. To buy more time, I grab a bottle of water and take a long drink, watching him as he moves from the chair to the window. I’m thankful for the distance he’s put between us, relieved that he’s no longer quite so close, especially with me in bed and not wearing clothes. They’re stacked by the door, just as he’d requested.
I pull the sheet and blanket up, making sure that I’m covered where I need to be covered.
He stares at my bare shoulders and chest for a moment, then clears his throat. He’s leaning against the windowsill, crossing his arms, the action making his T-shirt tighten around his shoulders and biceps. I look away from him, refusing to be caught ogling him again.
After a few moments of silence, I look back over at him. We watch other, taking each other’s measure while the quiet seconds play out. His gaze is inscrutable, and I wish I knew what he was thinking. Finally, he takes pity on me and speaks.
“First off, my name is Lucas.”
His name ricochets through the room, then seems to pour itself into my blood till it’s pulsing through my veins. Lucas… His name is Lucas. It’s Lucas who has kidnapped me and drugged me. It’s Lucas who is holding me here.
“That day in the trailer, you saw something you shouldn’t have. I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now.”
The spell of his name broken, I can finally respond to him. “Yes, I remember,” I tell him, relieved that he’s finally explaining things to me. Before he can say anything else, I interrupt him. “But I don’t know what I saw, or what you were doing. Not really…” I actually do know, or have a pretty good idea of what he was doing, but he doesn’t know that.
“Unfortunately for you, not knowing or understanding what you saw isn’t the issue. It’s a simple matter of you seeing us there and being able to identify us. And while I’m sure you’d promise not to tell anyone, taking that risk is simply not an option.”
I take a sip of water as an excuse to take my eyes off his handsome face and to buy myself a few extra seconds to think.
“As I mentioned in one of our notes, I have cameras everywhere throughout the house; every room, every hallway is monitored.”
I shiver at the thought of this, hating that he’s seen so many of my private moments. My eyes flick to the bathroom.
“No,” he says, reassuring me. “As I told you, that’s the one safe room you have.”
I’m beyond relieved to know that I still have my sanctuary, such that it is.
“I realize that this is very difficult for you. And while this situation isn’t ideal, believe me when I tell you that of the two of us, I’m the one who wishes you were not here the most.”
“Right.” I huff out a small breath. “And of the two of us, I’m the only one who’s being held against her will.”
“Touché.”
“You realize you can’t keep me here much longer. People must be looking for me.”
He grimaces, looking away from me.
“What?” I ask him. “Why did you say no one was looking for me? What didn’t you tell me?”
Seeming to come to a decision, he turns back to face me. “Before we destroyed them, we used your devices to hack into and take over your social media accounts. To your surprise, you’re the grand-prize winner to some contest we made up. You’re on a trip overseas and are posting tons of pictures.”
Stunned, I can only shake my head at him. “No, that’s not possible.”
“It is. We contacted your boss for you, pretending to be a relative. He said you had plenty of vacation built up, because apparently don’t take enough time off. He was happy that you’re finally using some time to do something fun. And all of your friends are excited that you’re finally ‘getting a life.’” He actually uses air quotes when he says that “getting a life” part.
I’m mortified just as his mouth quirks up. “You’re having a great time, if that helps any.”
If my looks co
uld cut him, he’d be bleeding to death. “No, it’s not.”
He scratches at his scruff, taking my anger in stride. This his eyes get somewhat hard as he seems to remember something. “Somebody named Bobby McCafferty seems especially happy for you. Is he a boyfriend? Someone that we need to worry about?”
My thoughts bounce around the knowledge that they’ve covered all their bases in making my disappearance seem like I haven’t disappeared. If they’re posting for me online, then he’s right, nobody will be alarmed. Which means that nobody is looking for me. The realization settles like a heavy weight across my shoulders.
“I asked you a question,” Lucas says, his impatient voice drawing my attention back to him.
“What? Can you repeat it?” I was too busy dying a little inside to pay attention.
“Bobby McCafferty.” His tone deepens. “Is he a boyfriend or an ex?” I’d swear his eyes become more piercing when he asks me that, but I can’t imagine why.
I would blush at the memory of having sex with Bobby, but it was the night my parents died. Over the years, thoughts of Bobby have almost always brought tears to my eyes.
“No,” I tell him truthfully, just barely holding back the emotion. “He’s just a guy I went to high school with.” I take a long drink of water.
“Does he mean anything to you?” His jaw ticks, like he realizes that something I’m telling him isn’t quite right. “And before you answer, understand that lying to me will have very bad consequences.”
I frown at Lucas, unsure of why he’s asking me about Bobby of all people. Does he think Bobby will try to come for me, or that he’s a threat in any way? The thought is almost laughable and clears up my momentary sadness. “No,” I tell him honestly. “He means nothing to me. Why do you ask?”
“He seems to be overly interested in your posts,” he snorts. “I needed to know if he is going to be an issue.”
I can’t help but grimace. Bobby can be a little…exuberant at times. Lucas sees my expression and tilts his head, studying me.
“What? What is he to you?” He tenses just a little. “Has he been bothering you?” He sounds almost threatening, but somehow I know it’s not directed toward me; it’s directed toward Bobby.
“Bobby and I went to high school,” I explain, trying not to think of that night. “We were barely friends, but he seems to remember things a little differently.”
Again, thoughts of sex with Bobby run through my head, but this time, they’re overwritten by thoughts of sex with Lucas. I’m struck with the knowledge that the two experiences would be completely different.
Lucas gives me a knowing smirk. “So he wasn’t someone you were getting hot and heavy with in the back seat of the car?”
And tears.
“It was the bed of his truck,” I choke out. “It’s not a good memory.”
Lucas stands up from the window and takes two steps toward me. “Did he hurt you?”
If voice could cut through metal, Lucas’s would have.
Tears in my eyes, I look up at him. “No, it’s nothing like that. Bobby is a good guy, I promise. And he’s nobody to worry about. He’s just a nuisance, nothing more.”
He stares at me, plumbing my eyes to see if I’m telling him the truth. “Very well. I’ll ignore him for now.”
“That’s probably best. It’s what I typically do.”
He stares at me for a few more minutes, then heads for the door. “I’ve brought some clothes for you to wear while I wash yours. I’ll bring yours back later this afternoon.” He glances toward the shirts. “There are some books there too. Hopefully they’ll be enough to keep you occupied for a while.”
When he gets to the door, his eyes once again linger on my bare shoulders and chest. I look down and realize the sheets and blanket are gaping just a tiny bit. I grab the pillow and hold it in front of me, blushing.
Lucas grins at me, all wolfish maleness seeping from every pore. “Don’t cover yourself on my account. I enjoyed the view.”
Then he winks at me and leaves.
Chapter 7
Allie
Not able to take another moment in bed, I get up and grab his shirts, taking them into the bathroom. I’d thought about using the sheet as a toga, but was equally uninterested in having to undo and then remake the bed.
Although I need to remember to ask him if he’d wash the sheets or bring me a fresh set.
I grab one of his button-down shirts, easing my arms into it as if I can keep my skin from making contact with the material. Just as I’d thought, wearing his clothes is an oddly intimate act. It’s something a girlfriend would do, or a lover.
Not a captive.
Thankful that the shirt covers everything essential down to my midthigh, I feel comfortable enough to leave the privacy of the bathroom. I don’t expect Lucas back until lunchtime, which will be hours from now.
Looking around for something to do, I spy the small stack of books and grab them up. I drag one of the small covered chairs closer to the window, positioning it so that I’ll be sitting in the sunbeams. Not able to stop the small smile from forming, I sit down and pick up the books, settling in for a good, long read.
Lucas
Holy fucking fuck…
Allie is wearing my shirt, and fucking hell, she’s so beautiful in it. She’s sitting in the chair reading one of the books I brought, her legs tucked up underneath her ass. An ass I happen to know is bare because I’ve got her dried panties sitting on top of the dryer, ready to be taken up to the room and given to her.
The rays from the sunshine enshrine her like the goddess she is, beaming down from the heavens to show me exactly how intoxicating she truly is. The heat from the rays make her porcelain skin pinken to a light blush, and her whole body looks like it’s softened and warmed with the heat.
My hands itch to touch her skin, to see if it’s as soft and warm as it looks.
And then, fucking god, she changes positions and I watch her sweet tits jiggle inside my shirt, then settle down as she stills. The way she’s sitting causes the shirt to tighten up across her chest so that her nipples are pushed front and center. My mouth waters to taste them, suck them.
The lower part of the shirt puddles in her lap, creating a shadow in the vee where I know her naked pussy hides. If I went up there right now, I’d kneel like a supplicant before a queen and run my hands up those luscious thighs to get at the heaven between her legs.
I think about the clothes sitting on my dryer, knowing that they’re going to stay right where they are. There is no fucking way I’m letting her put those abominations back on that ripe, decadent body of hers. Not only are they hideous on their own, they shroud her natural beauty with their ugliness.
Not that I thought Allie was ugly, because I didn’t. But I had no idea she would be as fucking beautiful as she is. Watching her, my cock starts to harden as my gaze runs from point to point on her body. I don’t even care that I’m no better than some perv in his mother’s basement who’s getting off on watching the neighborhood MILF. I can’t take my eyes off her, so I don’t.
There is one thing that I do though, and that’s decide that things between Allie and me are about to change.
Allie
The hours pass and the day gives way to evening. The books Lucas dropped off help pass the time, but I find myself spending more time thinking about him, wondering why he is starting to affect me the way he does.
Thinking about him again, I close my eyes and picture him as he stood against the windowsill. The light spilled in from the window behind him, bathing him in light. His face was so handsome, it almost hurt to look at him. He’s the perfect male in my eyes, with every masculine feature calling to every feminine part of me. It makes me want to weep that a man who looks so perfect is, in fact, so incredibly bad.
I wonder what drove him to this lifestyle. Surely a man like him could have had and done anything he wanted. With everything he has going for him, it should have come to him easily. And legally
. But then I shake my head at myself. I’m projecting the same sexist and judgmental thoughts onto him that people project onto me.
I’m the fat girl, so I’m the desperate girl. The easy girl…the grateful girl. Just because Lucas is handsome doesn’t mean he is automatically a good man. And it doesn’t mean a good life was handed to him simply because of his looks.
I also think about when he’s going to let me go.
His handsomeness and him letting me go are two completely disparate thoughts, yet both equally compelling, time-consuming, and confusing.
When Lucas drops off my lunch, neither one of us speaks. He mumbles something about a glitch with the dryer and gets out of the room before I can say much of anything. Other than eyeing me up and down as I sat in the chair where I’d been reading, he barely acknowledged me.
By evening, I’ve stripped off the top sheet from the bed and wrapped it around me like a toga. Dirty sheet or not, I need more coverage than his shirt provides. I look ridiculous but am satisfied that the sheet helps cover most of my skin. It makes me feel less exposed, less vulnerable.
And if I were to be shamefully honest, it makes me feel less naughty. There’s something very erotic about walking around a handsome man’s home wearing one of his shirts with no undergarments. I’m not an overtly sexual woman. With everything that happened with my parents’ deaths, things not only got a little skewed, but I’d shut down mentally, emotionally, and physically for a very long time. Thankfully, a few friends in college helped me wake back up, and I picked up where I left off…which meant that sex was only a little less awkward than it was that night with Bobby.
My boyfriends have all been very nice, staid guys who didn’t push for much in the bedroom. My limited partners meant limited experience, and I’d come to accept it for what it was. Not that I didn’t yearn for more, because I did. But I fed that hunger with social media gifs versus actual experience
But now here I am, in a strange situation with a strange man who does strange things to me. I shouldn’t find him handsome or tempting. I should be revolted by him. Repelled. But the more I see him, the more fascinated I become.
