Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 35349 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35349 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
My throat tightened as I realized he’d taken them—kept them like trophies.
I played with the hair tie, feeling its familiar texture between my fingers. It was just a cheap thing I’d bought before I left for my trip. It was so insignificant, but I wondered how many times Lars had picked it up and ran the elastic between his own fingers.
These items were unimportant, but seeing them here made me feel like he’d needed pieces of me close to him. And at the same time, these items now seemed like a part of a life I left a long time ago.
I realized the other stuff on the table were things I’d picked up along my journey. God… he’d been following me for so long, through all those different countries, and hiding in the shadows. Each item was a reminder of how closely he’d been watching me.
I should have felt violated and angry, but instead, a strange sense of calm washed over me.
How twisted was I that I liked the fact that he’d kept these things?
That he’d literally stalked me?
I crept closer to the door, and my heart was pounding in my chest. I couldn’t shake it off that being with Lars—in this dark and twisted way—made me feel more wanted than I ever had in my entire life. But as my hand wrapped around the doorknob, the thought of escaping playing through my mind, I looked back at Lars once again.
He still slept soundly, his chest rising and falling. I stood there for a moment and just took in his bare chest. The sheet was pooled at his waist, so his broad shoulders and defined chest covered in dark but trimmed hair were on display. His waist was tapered, and that V of muscle was visible until it disappeared beneath the sheet.
I should run. I should leave.
Instead, I lay down beside him again, his warmth drawing me in like a magnet. He stirred slightly, and I knew he was waking when he slipped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer. His body was solid and warm, and the now-familiar scent of him surrounded me like a cocoon.
Deep down, I knew why I didn’t run. I’d never belonged anywhere. But I belonged here. With Lars. My past had been filled with people who were abusive and indifferent at best, cruel at worst. I’d just been drifting through this world, wanting to escape. And I had. I’d gone farther than I ever thought possible.
Yes, Lars had taken me, but in doing so, he’d made it clear that he not only wanted me but that he needed me. He kept pieces of me—stolen bits of my life—but he cared about me above all else, even if it was in a twisted way.
I lay there, my body tucked against his, and let myself feel it—the forbidden comfort of being wanted, even if it was by a man who kidnapped me and kept me as his captive. His fingers moved lightly up and down my spine. And for the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged somewhere, and that place was with him.
I was anchored here, with him, in this dark place where the line between love and obsession blurred, because they were one and the same. It was dangerous, yet here I was… accepting this.
21
LARS
Something had changed with Dolly since last night. I’d seen it in the way she looked at me as she rode my cock.
I felt it in the way she allowed me to hold her this morning, after she’d turned from the door and crawled back into bed with me.
We’d just finished dinner—stew that we cooked together. Hell, I’d gotten hard watching her cut the potatoes and carrots for the pot, seeing her hold that knife, knowing it had been the same one I held to her throat after I chased her down and then fucked her.
Dolly was now bathing while I cleaned up our dishes. The soft amber light of dusk slipped through the small living room window. The sound of water gently lapping in the tub as she cleaned herself reached my ears. It was like a magnetic pull, moving me closer to the bathroom without conscious thought to do so.
I was in front of the open bathroom door seconds later, and there she was, submerged in the bath, the steam rising from all around her, and a few tendrils of her strawberry blonde locks sticking to her nape and back.
For long seconds, I just stared at her, at her delicate shoulders with the droplets of water cascading down them after she dragged the washcloth over her pinkened flesh. She hadn’t noticed me yet—lost in the moment's quiet—and so I took all the time I could, just watching her silently.
But it was when she slowly turned her head and looked at me that I realized my girl had known I was there the whole time, watching her, and she didn’t care. She just let me have it. Just let me look my fill. Hell, the way our eyes locked and she twisted in the tub, letting me see her pert, beautiful breasts in all their glory, I knew I was wrong and that she did care. Because she liked it. It was obvious now she was putting on a show for me.