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Rosie is in my bed, and I’m nearly naked. He can take that information and file it away wherever he wants. He keeps his eyes trained on the TV as I walk between the beds before slowly crawling in next to Rosie. She’s a statue beside me, not moving toward or away from me.
No doubt, this situation is awkward for her.
One of us is her first love, her high school boyfriend turned friend.
The other one of us murdered her uncle and hasn’t been silent about hating her family for years.
On top of all that, he and I are brothers.
I would never coerce or force a woman to do anything physical with me, but my arms are aching to hold her. After six days apart, finding out she was taken and then injured—on top of my lack of sleep—I want nothing more than to tuck her in close tonight and sleep for ten hours straight.
I refuse to make the first move. I want her to decide if she wants to be near me, especially in Duke’s presence.
Hell, maybe she wants me on the floor too.
After our kiss, that would sting.
I turn to look at her. Her eyes are focused on the hunting show Duke is watching. I let my gaze travel down to her full rosebud lips. She blinks lazily, still looking ahead. She nibbles her bottom lip right when I feel her touch grazing my hip underneath the covers. I expect her to stop there, but she keeps going. My senses overheat when her fingers reach for my dick, grasping the half-hard length.
I jolt, my knee kicking toward the ceiling. I hold back a groan, moving my fingers to intercept her, interlacing mine with hers. Even this innocent hand-holding with her makes me feel lighter, easing the ache in my chest that I’ve had since she went missing.
I feel like I might explode if I don’t get closer to her. She squeezes my hand, sighing contentedly. I reach around her, grabbing her waist and scooting her entire body over until it’s flush with mine.
“Are you hurting?” I whisper into her hair as she leans back against my shoulder.
She shakes her head. “I’m better now.”
“Did you eat any more?”
She nods. I watched her eat a chicken strip and a couple of French fries before I got into the shower.
“Who do you think would do this to me?” she whispers.
I’ve been racking my brain with that exact question the entire drive here. The main enemy in my life seems like an unlikely suspect, considering I don’t think even Clay Dixon is corrupt enough to kidnap his own daughter and try to pin it on me.
But who else would?
The fact that she disappeared on my ranch and was being held there is hard to justify with any other explanation other than someone trying to frame me for it.
“Maybe if you can tell me what happened—from when you left the ranch to when he took you to me finding you—it could clue me in.”
Duke shifts closer. “What did Jed have to do with it?”
She turns to him. “Who’s Jed?”
“The bald man who was holding you captive,” I say.
She shudders, shrinking back against me.
“What did he do to you?” I hold her tighter.
Please don’t say rape.
She blows out a slow exhale. “He didn’t touch me … sexually.”
My entire body sags in relief. I squeeze her hand tighter, encouraging her to continue.
Her bright eyes look up into mine. “He would let me out every few hours to use the bathroom. I got one cup of water a day. I only got food once—a sandwich. I think it was a few days ago. The window was boarded up so I couldn’t tell what time of day or night it was. I tried to run once, and that’s when my ribs … he threw me up against the wall. My eye and the other bruises had happened on the night they took me.”
