“Not interested.” He took a deep breath then clapped his hands together, startling her so bad that she jumped. “So, are you on any kind of birth control?”
“What?”
“You heard me. Are you?”
“No. And I have every sexually transmitted infection known to mankind. Things are awful messy downstairs.”
“Excellent.”
“I’m never touching you.”
The bastard smiled the sort of smile that reeked of thinking with his prick. 176: Sexual Ethics. He had none.
“Ever.”
He snapped his fingers and cocked his head. “What’s the line about protesting too much?”
She snarled. Hopefully like a lion but more likely a cranky kitten. Childish and futile, but, damn it, what was she supposed to do? Frustration had her furious. She could have thrown herself on the floor, toddler-tantrum-style, with limbs flailing at the unfairness of the world.
Nick licked his lips and looked away for a moment. The smile never faltered. Much more of this and she’d begin to think she was a constant delight. “Pick out some clothes, Roslyn. I’ll take the chain off long enough for you to get changed. Deal?”
“I don’t want anything from you.”
“Or I can dress you. Your choice. And you know the tie-on panties will be involved.” He stalked a couple of steps closer and loomed. “Fight me on something else, Ros. You being cold or hungry isn’t negotiable.”
“You’re such a great guy.”
His expression altered oh so subtly. She could have sworn he flinched.
“Hurry up,” he said.
With a futile huff she returned to the cupboard, grabbed the nearest pair of jeans, a T-shirt and the rest. Searched out the baggiest bloody sweater she could find. Not one of those tight pin-up–girl boob-enhancing babies. Forget it. This required layers and lots of them.
“Good girl,” said the patronizing son of a bitch.
“I meant to ask. How’s your head?”
The asshole just laughed.
CHAPTER SIX
“Do you always have this much trouble getting to sleep?”
Roslyn wriggled about on the bed, finally rolling onto her side, facing him. He couldn’t see her in the darkness, but he knew. The noise of her shifting on the sheets and rustling the blankets sounded so loud in the quiet, along with the clinking of the chain.
“Can’t say. I haven’t been held hostage before,” she said.
Whatever sultry, flowery scent she’d lathered on herself had him happily high. How nice it would be to lick her all over. Start with her cute, cold toes and work his way up. Leave no inch of her skin untasted.
“Smartass,” he mumbled.
Their first full day together had been largely uneventful. No further head wounds, at least, which was something to be grateful for. They’d talked a little. Not a lot. Mostly she’d given him shit about the chain. Fair enough. It wasn’t coming off, though. Not a goddamn chance in hell of its removal anytime soon, given her furtive looks at the door. Thankfully, his headache had evened out to a dull skull-splitting roar.
“They’re still out there,” she said, talking about the low, occasional moan coming from outside their back door.
“There’re usually a couple about. I gave up killing them. More just come to take their place. Maybe they smell the smoke from the fire. I dunno.”
“Mm.” Her voice was soft, sleepy. So how come she hadn’t fallen asleep already? Because no damn way could he let his guard down until he knew she was out for the count. Not if he could help it. He heard the clink of the chain again. A small disgruntled noise. Who knew what it was about, but he needed sleep desperately.
Then sheer fucking genius struck him blind. “You want the chain off?”
The noises stopped. “Yes.”
“Alright.” He sat up and flung back the bedding, clicked on the camp light sitting on the bedside table.
Roslyn blinked and scooted up, backing into the headboard. Her red hair stuck out like crazy. Bed hair, from his bed. A strange sort of satisfaction rolled through him.
“You mean it?” she asked.
“Of course.” He rose and retrieved the key, stashed beneath the mattress. Unoriginal, but close by if needed.
She cautiously stuck her foot out as though she were half afraid he’d chop it off. For bed she’d changed into a pair of truly unattractive sweatpants and a gray sweater large enough to swallow her whole. It left everything to the imagination. He’d still take her over Junie—or whatever the hell her name had been—any day of the week.
Nick picked up the padlock and unlocked it, slipped it free of the links of chain. The long length of metal clattered to the floor and lay silent. Ros made a small noise and looked at him, mouth slightly open, holding perfectly still.