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I turned off the light above him and returned to my chair with the remote. Lighting a cigarette, I flicked through the channels until I found another movie and settled in for a long ass night of standing guard.
19
Roan
For the firsttime in days, I woke up feeling refreshed. Ok, not like I was ready to conquer the world, but like I’d actually managed to give my body the rest it needed after so many nights of quick, uncomfortable cat naps. I was warm, for a change, and my body wasn’t screaming at me in pain.
Rubbing the sleep from my eye, it suddenly dawned on me my hand was free. Nor did I have tape over my mouth. My head whipped to the left, deflating slightly to see the other handcuff was still there. Of course. Sasha was mean, but he wasn’t stupid.
It was strange I finally knew his name, but exhilarating in a way. Like knowing it gave me some sort of power over him. He was no longer a nameless figure controlling my existence. Aleksandr. Sasha. The nickname didn’t make sense, but maybe it did in Russian.
Speaking of… where was Sasha?
It didn’t take long to pick up on the sound of water running. The door to the bathroom was half-open, steam drifting out lazily along the top of the ceiling.
In the two seconds it took me to realize he was showering, my brain and my body each came up with a plan. The brain said now was the chance to escape. Find a way to break the headboard and get the fuck out. My body, however, decided it was the perfect time to stir up a little morning wood and fucking immobilize me.
As soon as the bathroom door opened the rest of the way, my jaw dropped and my brain stopped working altogether.
Strolling out in nothing but a towel, Sasha was every bit the bad boy of my fantasies. His clothes hadn’t disguised how muscular he was, but watching droplets of water roll through those ridges and valleys was something else altogether.
A dusting of dark hair spread across his massive chest and tapered off the further south it went, each of his tattoos still visible beneath. Like his arms, the tattoos were a mix of symbols and writing, not one solid piece or style and certainly no color. There were stars on each side of his chest, along with a pair of eyes on his pec. A dagger looked like it was piercing through the skin on his sternum, blood dripping down onto a snarling wolf’s head in the center of his abdomen with some writing beneath it. It was hot. And terrifying. Mostly hot. No, terrifying. Crazy, Russian criminals were terrifying, Roan. But also really fucking hot.
It took him a couple seconds to realize I was awake. “What the fuck are you looking at?” he snapped.
A Russian god sent to torment me? Literally.
Knowing that was definitely not the right answer, I swallowed any thought of a reply and kept my mouth shut.
Apparently satisfied I wasn’t going to speak, he turned his back to me and grabbed a handful of clothing from the top of the dresser. His back had even more muscles. And more tattoos, including a giant one of the Virgin Mary and baby Jesus. He didn’t strike me as the religious type, but what the hell did I know? There was a double-headed eagle and a knight thrown in the mix, along with dozens of other, smaller tattoos I only caught glimpses of as he moved.
My traitorous dick completely tented the front of my sweat pants, begging for attention. I bit my lip and waited until Sasha ducked back into the bathroom before I reached down and tried like hell to adjust it so it wasn’t so obvious. Fat chance. No matter how I tried to disguise it, it was fucking obvious.
Sasha rounded the corner of the bathroom, fully dressed in a dark gray t-shirt and jeans, and his eyes immediately fell to my hand.
I expected derisive questions, or outright yelling. I even expected another backhand to go with my growing collection of bruises. What I didn’t expect was for him to swagger forward, step by step, his head dipped low like a predator on the hunt. And I certainly didn’t expect him to kneel on the bed or reach over me to unlock the handcuff.
Even after I was no longer cuffed, I stayed right where I was. Did henotsee? He had to have seen. He saw everything.
It wasn’t until he tossed his head toward the bathroom that I eased out of bed, watching him like a hawk. He didn’t make a move to restrain me, or even go with me. I was allowed to walk the ten feet to the bathroom by myself. What the fuck was happening?
I tried not to question it as I slipped into the bathroom and went about my morning routine as if this were any other vacation in a crap motel with my hot kidnapper.
Exiting the bathroom, I immediately scanned my surroundings for Sasha.
He was standing by the window, peering out through the sheer curtains like he was looking for something. Or someone. He’d been doing it off and on since we’d been here, which made me wonder if he was as restless as I was.
As soon as he realized I was in the room again, he turned and gave me another head-to-toe. “Sit.”
Obediently, I returned to the bed.
Closing the curtain, he followed me and grabbed one of the handcuffs, reattaching it to my wrist. So much for freedom.
The second the cold metal clicked into place, my dick stirred again, woken by the contrasting warmth of Sasha’s hands. The fact his face was so close to mine didn’t help matters, or that the shower left him smelling clean and woodsy.
“What is that?” Sasha growled. I didn’t have to follow his gaze to know what had him pissed off again.
“What the fuck do you think?” I snapped back, bracing for another fist to the face.
