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Come for me.
His words echoed in my head, just as sexy in my memory as they were the first time around. What wasthatabout? Dirty talk with your captive? What kind of kidnapper was he? My God…
It wasn’t dirty talk when he licked the cum off the back of his hand, though. Or when he looked at me like he was going to devour me. What would I have done if he tried? Would I have let him? Would I have actually said “No” after throwing myself at him first?CouldI have said “No”?
Raking both hands through my hair, I sat back on the bed, staring at the brown grains of rice on the floor.
I was still sitting there when the basement door opened again and footsteps jogged down the stairs. My heart stuttered for a minute, waiting to see who it was going to be.
A twinge of disappointment shot through me. It was Ivan, carrying a broom and dustpan.
He frowned at the mess. “Sasha?”
I nodded. Sasha said not tospeakto him. He didn’t say anything about head movements or hand gestures.
Sighing, Ivan set the dustpan down and started sweeping up the rice.
Shifting off the bed, I knelt and grabbed the dustpan. I held it for him while he swept, dumping the garbage into the brown paper bag, along with all of the evidence from whatever the hell it was that happened post-rice throwing.
Glancing up, I watched Ivan carefully as he worked. Did he know what happened? He didn’t seem to. But I didn’t know him like I knew Sasha. I didn’t know what his tells were.
Fuck, Roan. You don’tknowSasha anymore than you know what the hell is going on!
“Did you even get to eat?” Ivan asked, depositing the last pile of dirty rice into the bag.
I shook my head, getting to my feet again. Two forkfuls hardly counted after being on a hunger strike.
“You’re quiet now,” Ivan observed, leaning against the broom. “You talked before but now, nothing.”
I bit my lower lip and pointed upstairs.
A smile cracked the side of his face. “I get it. It’s his way or roadway.” Sasha’s way or the highway. No shit.
Shaking my head, I lifted my pant leg, pointing to the cuff on my right ankle and over to the shower. Even if I’d wiped my skin clean, I wouldn’t object to an actual shower.
Ivan shook his head. “Sasha’s the only one with the key.” Of course he was…
Sighing, I sank onto the edge of the bed.
“I’ll go ask. And see about some more food,” Ivan said, sounding way more optimistic than he probably should have. I didn’t have high hopes for a positive outcome to either request.
A short while later, the basement door opened again.
I stopped pacing and crossed my arms, waiting to see which Russian jailer I had the pleasure of dealing with this time: Sasha and his confusing-as-fuck ways or Ivan, with bad news.
My stomach plummeted when the person who came into view was neither Sasha nor Ivan.
It was Yuri, still sporting some nasty bruises from Sasha’s beating the other day. He was bad enough, but it was what he had in his hand that was more concerning — a pair of bolt cutters.
“What do you want?” I asked as he stepped off the bottom stair.
Swaggering forward without a word, he held up the tool, like I couldn’t see it clearly.
“What are you doing?” I backed away from him as far as my metal leash would let me.
He gave me a nasty smile and chucked the bolt cutters at my feet. “Have nice life, pretty boy.”
Was this a trick? It had to be a trick. I didn’t move. I barely even breathed.
