How could she?
She’d had sex with Nick and there was no excuse. There were no gray areas. You didn’t fuck the man who kept you captive. What kind of woman did that? Fell for her abductor. No, damn it, it was so wrong she couldn’t comprehend it. It filled her with disgust and covered her in self-loathing.
Sure as hell, it couldn’t happen again.
He was asleep against her back with an arm thrown over her waist. For a long time he’d toyed with her fingers, stroked her arm. Neither of them had said a word. Complete silence, apart from the occasional pop and sizzle of the wood in the pot-belly stove. Even the rain had stopped a while back.
It was mid-afternoon. Hard to tell exactly with the cabin all closed up. The scent of him seemed to be reaching out to her, trying to tantalize or comfort or something. The want to close her eyes and breathe him in deep horrified her. She hated herself for how she wanted him. For giving in to him. He’d never let her go now. She’d never be free to make her own choices ever again and it was all her own weak-willed fault. Somehow, he’d disarmed her, which meant her armor was made of flimsy stuff indeed.
She shifted and the chain clinked, reminding her of its presence. He’d said the key was in his back pocket. His jeans were on the kitchen floor. He’d stripped off fully after sex and undressed her as much as possible without taking off the chain. If only he’d taken it off her. Maybe then she’d have felt differently.
She sucked in a deep breath and held it as her mind reeled. The key. She could escape. She had to. To stay locked up like this was out of the question. She had to get out.
And if he woke she’d say she was going to the toilet or something.
Yeah. Great. All set. Bloody hell.
She could do this. First she eased a little way across the mattress and rolled gradually onto her back. No rush. Nice and easy. Now she could see him. Eyes closed, and his breathing deep and even. Some strange frisson went through her at the sight of him: fine, firm lips and straight nose, the hollows in his cheeks. It hurt to look at him. This situation wasn’t tenable. Nobody could live like this.
He looked different fast asleep. Unguarded. She’d never seen him like this before. Her anger evaporated. It had fortified her for so long that its absence left a gaping hole. He looked so alone in the bed without her. The sight of him hurt her heart. People always talked about sex making them feel closer to someone. In all honesty, she’d never felt that before today. The connection had never seemed especially profound, not until Nick. How fucking unfair.
But she couldn’t stay.
Roslyn shut her eyes and gathered her reserves. Slowly she extricated herself. Every rustle of the sheets and clank of the chain seemed magnified tenfold. He didn’t stir. First one foot touched the ground, then the second. Her body slid out from beneath his hand and she sat up, then stood.
Her knickers and jeans were caught on the chain. She pulled them back over her foot and up her leg. Inserted her other leg and drew them over her hips. Between her thighs was wet and swollen. Sore from what they’d done and how hard they’d done it. It had to have been eight or nine months since anyone had touched her there, and he wasn’t small. There’d been few preliminaries—not that she’d wanted any. She’d been insane with need for him. She’d been insane, full stop.
Now wasn’t the time to think about it.
She crept toward the kitchen. If he woke she was getting a bottle of water, nothing more. The chain sounded so damn loud. Her fingers curled into fists. The metal links clattered and crashed but he slept on. It would be okay. She’d steal the Golden Goose and get gone.
His jeans lay forgotten on the floor. She slipped her hand into one of the back pockets. Nothing. Had he been lying? But the other pocket … yes, success. Cool metal met her fingers. Excitement beat through her. This was it.
Please don’t wake up.
The key slid into the lock and it snicked open. She slid the links of chain free and set them down quietly. Almost didn’t recognize her ankle without its restraint. There were a couple of red marks on her skin and a small gray bruise above her heel.
Roslyn scrambled into her T-shirt then rose slowly to her feet. Her bra was AWOL and she would have to go barefoot. She didn’t dare open the cupboard to search for shoes. But she tucked his Swiss Army Knife into her pocket, just in case.
Fast asleep, Nick looked almost sweet and innocent. Candlelight softened his features. The blankets were bunched up at his waist, leaving his top half exposed. Such a beautiful body; it was awe-inspiring. And she didn’t know if she loved him or hated him, but she knew she had to go. The ache inside her expanded and pushed at her ribs. So much pressure that she might implode. This whole situation was so wrong it warped her little mind.