Deliver (Deliver #1) Read Online Pam Godwin

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, BDSM, Contemporary, Crime, Dark, Erotic, New Adult, Romance, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Deliver Series by Pam Godwin
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Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
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She wasn’t pleased with his wandering eyes, but his last punishment had ended with her body curled against his. It gave him enough temerity to break more rules. He watched her beautiful, expressionless face. “What does this visit from Mr. E mean exactly?”

She turned, facing him with her back to the door and her stony eyes packed with grim promises. He considered it an accomplishment to stand before her, as he did every day, with his wrists wrapped in chains, every inch of his flesh bared and unprotected, and his backbone proudly intact.

Her scrutiny leveled on his raised chin, and her brown eyes melted for a millisecond before hardening again.

“I saw that.” He was being reckless. Despite the bumps and bruises riddling his body, the threat of her whip had lost its edge. But she could still threaten his parents. Or have sex with Van. His jaw locked, smacking his teeth together.

“You saw nothing, boy.” Her stillness suggested a disciplinary strike would follow, but her expression was hesitant, as if distracted by some inward conflict.

He stepped closer, raising his hands between them, the coil of chain around his wrists a reminder that he wasn’t the enemy. “If your boss is right outside this door, why are we in here?”

Her throat twitched as if she’d stifled a swallow a second too late. “Eyes down.”

Of course, she wouldn’t answer him. He’d have to make a guess and read her reaction. “He’s out there with Kate. Van’s probably catching him up on her training. When that’s done, he’ll text you to open the door, so he can inspect his new property. Do I have the gist of it?”

The flash of her eyes told him he’d guessed right. “On your knees. Now.”

Arrgh. He stayed on his feet. “You always do that. You deflect with those damned rules.” Still, she seemed off-kilter, and he might not get another opportunity to poke around for a soft spot. “I’m just trying to understand.” He searched her face. She kept it guarded. So he rested his fists against the door above her head, no physical contact, but the bond was there.

“Step. Back.”

Maybe bond was too strong of a word, but she could’ve ducked out from beneath his arms. Instead, she stared up at him with an unfathomable mien on her face. Something was hidden there, an expression, a truth, etched in the delicate creases around her mouth. Her lips parted and pressed together, bending the scar that mapped the struggles in her life, the ones he suspected she fought alone.

Then it clicked. “I know that song you were singing. Isn’t it about loyalty and friendship and—”

“Team.” Her eyes were wide, watchful, and maybe a little skittish.

“That’s right. ‘Team’ by Lorde.” He wanted to ask what the song meant to her, but she wouldn’t have answered. Didn’t matter. He could guess its significance, knew it had to do with why she slept where her prisoner slept, confining herself with him for five days, only leaving to fetch food. “Better to be enchained with someone on your side than to be alone with a false sense of freedom.”

The expression on her face transformed from that of captor to equal. Her posture loosened, her features gentled, the phone forgotten in her hand. She stared into his eyes, blinking, nodding slowly, subtly. It was a poignant moment of connection, the opening he’d been searching for.

He touched his forehead to hers, his chains rattling above her head, and waited for the punishment that never came. “We may not be trapped for the same reason, but we’re looking in the same direction, reaching beyond these walls together. Tell me what we’re up against.”

A low-pitched noise groaned in her throat, and her head relaxed against his. He kept his shackled arms balanced on the door, afraid the smallest movement might spook her.

Was she considering his words or formulating a safe response? Maybe she was worried about Van hitting her again. Or raping her. His throat hurt as he replayed Van’s groaning thrusts and the pain in her eyes. The two times he’d asked her to talk about it, she’d whipped him for speaking without permission.

Too soon, she straightened, breaking the point of contact. She took her time meeting his eyes, and when she did, a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, her chin slowly moving left to right. “I give you an inch—”

“And I’d be six-foot-three.” He lowered his arms, nudging her chin with his bound hands. “I love your smile.”

Her lips trembled and stilled. The smile remained, but her eyes dulled. “You’ve got balls, distracting me despite the consequences.”

He blew out a breath and retracted his arms to his waist. “So you’re tallying my infractions?” He dreaded what those consequences might be and tried for a light tone. “When do I get my spanking?”


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