Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 125140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
After watching me for a moment he picks me up and carries me into the bathroom and I cling to his neck for protection. The tears are running down my face.
“Stop shaking,” he snaps, annoyed.
“I can’t…I can’t help it,” I stammer. My teeth are chattering and the shudders through my body are violent.
“Christ,” he mutters to himself, and with an exhale of breath, he walks in under the water with me pressed against him. Both of my arms are around his neck and he is holding me like a bride.
He doesn’t speak, and for a long time we stay under the hot water as I cling to him. Eventually my shudders subside. I don’t know if it’s the shock or if I’m so physically exhausted from fighting, but I am struggling to stay awake. My eyes keep closing by themselves.
“Can you stand?” he asks as he puts me down.
I nod sadly as my feet touch the cold, hard tiles on the floor.
“Let’s get these wet clothes off you.”
My haunted eyes meet his. Is this it? Is this the part where I lose all dignity?
He bends and takes the t-shirt over my head and slides the shorts down my legs.
I stand before him totally naked.
“Are you hurt?” he asks as he inspects the cut on my head.
I don’t answer, I just hang my head and let the hot water run over me, hoping it will wash away this nightmare of events.
“Looks like it will be okay,” he replies as he inspects the wound from the pistol whip from the gun.
My arms hang by my side. I am absolutely defeated. I don’t have the strength to fight him. I know that.
He knows that.
He takes his t-shirt over his head and my eyes tear up.
Here we go.
He slowly slides his wet shorts down his legs and my eyes drop to his groin. He’s hard.
I close my eyes in pain.
He pulls me back to his large bare chest and we stand still under the water for an extended time. I can feel his huge erection pressed against my stomach.
Next thing I know, I am wrapped in a towel and being carried to the bed. He carefully dries me and pulls back the blankets and lies me down. I can feel his hungry eyes scan my flesh as I lie naked on my back in his bed. The same bed that, only hours ago, he’d tied me to.
I try to fight it, but my eyes keep closing by themselves.
“Go to sleep,” are the last words I hear.
* * *
I wake alone and sit up with a start. What? Was that a nightmare? Then I feel the pain shoot through my head and I look around to the cold metal can I am in and my heart drops.
It’s true. Oh God, it’s true.
“Hello?” I call. Is he here? Maybe he is in the bathroom? I stand groggily and shuffle to the bathroom. I’m so bloody sore. Every muscle in my body feels like it has been ripped from the bones. The bathroom is empty and I sit back onto the bed. What the hell am I going to do?
I frown as I try to remember how last night ended?
I don’t even remember falling asleep.
I’m naked and I run my fingers through my sex to see if I am wet. Have I had sex? Did he have sex with me while I was unconscious?
I get a visual of how hard he was in the shower and my stomach drops. Of course we had sex. Men like him take what they want, when they want it.
They called him Mac.
I make my way over to a porthole and I stand on the bed to peer through it. The view is about a meter above sea level and I can see the sea lapping closely as rain pelts down.
Fucking hell, this is a nightmare.
I slump back onto the bed and look around at my surroundings. I need a weapon… but am I really going to be able to kill ten men? Even if I do, who is going to steer the ship back to shore?
I blow out a defeated breath and stand, going back to the drawers to take out a large sweater and put it on. This ship is freezing.
The door opens and I step back. It’s him.
His eyes hold mine and he dips his head in acknowledgment.
I nod and drop my eyes.
He puts a plate of food onto the desk. “Eat,” he murmurs.
I drop to a seated position on the bed and he turns and puts his hands on his hips as he watches me. For the first time since my capture I take a good look at him. He is tall, maybe six-foot four, muscular with honey blonde hair that is about three inches long and has a curl on the ends. His skin is olive and his large eyes are brown. In any other circumstance, he would be handsome. Now I know that’s far from the truth. Looks can be deceiving. He’s a murdering criminal.