Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
I look away.
I can’t be distracted by all that again.
He’s not playing fair.
His looks aren’t fair.
“Why are you avoiding eye contact, Theadora?”
I snap, “Why are you always kidnapping me, Atlas?” As I say the words, I turn to face him, which is a big mistake, as he’s closer now and half-naked.
“I just can’t seem to help myself. I like to take things that aren’t mine, and I want to keep them.” His finger strokes down my cheek leaving a fiery blaze behind.
“I’m not a possession for you to keep,” I say, swatting his hand away.
“What a possession you would be.” Atlas smirks and steps away now. He walks into the closet, presses a button, and I watch in horror as another door opens revealing clothes.
How did I not see that before? I guess I haven’t really looked around much, too busy trying to make sure no one walks in when I’m not expecting them.
Atlas reaches for another shirt and jeans, then walks back out, and the door closes behind him. “Dinner will be here soon. I bet you’re hungry since you haven’t eaten since yesterday,” he says, then his hands go to his pants, and he drops them.
I look away while he continues to speak, “Which is stupid. If someone gives you food, you should eat it. You had no idea who kidnapped you, you might have needed your stamina.”
“Fuck you,” I reply, looking back to him.
“I can… if you wish? Just let me shower first, unless you care to join me?” Atlas raises one eyebrow.
“No. No way.” I shake my head. “I would rather die a thousand deaths than let you touch me again.”
Something passes in his eyes, but it‘s gone as quick as it came.
“That could always be arranged,” he states, walking into the bathroom and not shutting the door. Everything in here is open, so I can see him as he steps into the shower cubicle.
I step over to the door and try it.
Dammit!
Nope, still locked.
Sliding down, I place my head between my knees.
Is this what he does for a living. Kidnap women?
No wonder he’s still single.
But then again, what’s my excuse?
He stays in the shower for a long time, but I want answers. I shouldn’t be here. Standing, I head toward the bathroom and walk in. His hands are in his hair, his toned body on full display as he washes his hair. Atlas turns and locks eyes with me, then his hand leaves his hair and slides down his body until it reaches his cock, which is rock hard.
“Stop!” I say, my eyes trained in on him, and it’s not on his eyes. No, they are where his hand is currently massaging, up and down, but he’s not looking away from me.
“If you don’t stop, I will come in there and cut it off,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Will you use your mouth?” he asks. “I mean, the last mouth I had around me was yours. I’m happy to take it any way I can.”
My eyes flick to his hand, and he pumps harder and faster. At first, my thought is to get in there with him, but I shake my head and walk out. It takes every last drop of my willpower to walk away from him, to not step into that shower and let him touch me because I know he could make me feel good.
Walking over, I sit on the bed instead of the floor, crossing my legs as I wait for him to come out. Atlas takes his time, and when he finally appears, water is dripping down his naked body, running in rivulets over the bumps and crevices and straight down to that V. There’s no towel in sight as he steps over to where I’m seated on the bed and stands in front of me while I’m still watching those damn beads of water.
“Why am I here, Atlas?”
His face contorts, and at first, I think he’s going to tell me, but he turns and walks back to his secret closet. When the door reopens, he looks back at me.
“I have things in here for you, too.”
“Where are we?” I ask.
“The island.”
Of course.
“So why keep me locked in a room, knowing I can’t escape even if I wanted to?”
“It amuses me. Besides, this way I know where you are at all times.” He pulls out a dress and holds it up, then says, “Join me for dinner, you must be starving.”
“No,” I reply, shaking my head.
“Don’t be that girl, Theadora.” Atlas steps over, offering me the dress. When I don’t reach for it, he places it neatly in my lap.
I let the dress sit there, refusing to acknowledge its existence. “I don’t plan to eat with you. I don’t plan to do anything with you,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest in defiance.