Page 35 of Locke

Why did it feel so good?

“Take away my senses, and I would have found you through sheer will,” he declared vehemently.

“Nobody is that good,” I couldn’t help but retort now, my own stubbornness taking over.

“I’m an unstoppable force when I want to be.”

“If I ran, if I hid, you wouldn’t be able to find me.”

“Spoken like you’ve done it.” Without waiting for a response, he demanded, “What’s your name?”

“Little lion,” I answered flatly.

“I’m Max Locke.”

Was this guy serious?

My eyes shot to his. “I know who you are.”

He watched me intently, his eyes flaring with life. “What do you know about me?”

“I know you’re a cunt.”

“I am.”

“You’re a murderer.”

“Yes.”

“You’re a disease in Blackwater.”

He nodded. “The worst.”

“Everybody hates you.”

He looked completely unperturbed. “The feeling is mutual.”

“Then you know I hate you, too.”

“Your body doesn’t seem to agree.”

My face heated as I looked away, ignoring him once more as he watched me. My body shook from adrenaline. I probably fucked up expressing my hatred, but I was exhausted, angry, terrified and in pain from these ropes. I was at my wit’s end, and if he wanted to kill me, go for fucking gold. I had nothing left to lose, and there was a special someone waiting on the other side anyway.

I didn’t realize I’d been crying until I felt the salt on my lips. The tears slid down my face endlessly. I’d been so consumed with anger, I didn’t notice I was also heartbroken.

Without speaking, he pulled away entirely, and still I refused to look at him. My eyes burned holes into the mattress as I felt the tears slide down my neck and bare chest. His silence was distressing, and I tensed when he suddenly moved even closer, his hands working on something above my head. A moment later, my arm fell to my side, and the sudden pain of it made me suck a breath in sharply. He moved down the bed and worked on my ankle next, releasing me from the binds one at a time.

By the time he was done, and my other arm was released, he didn’t step back or give me time to process. He wrapped his hand around an arm and tugged me off the bed, hauling my jelly legs across the room and into another. He flicked the lights on, and I flinched from the brightness. He let me go and worked on removing his clothes.

“Wash yourself,” he ordered, sliding out of his shirt.

He kicked his clothes off in seconds, completely disregarding my presence as he moved toward a giant shower stall with two showerheads, one on either side. Completely naked, he got under one showerhead and twisted it on. The water fell over him hard, and his body rocked as he sucked in a deep breath. Whether it was from the injury or something else, I didn’t know. I tore my gaze away from his sculpted ass and looked around the bathroom, then the door. For a moment I thought of racing out of there.

Then again, if he was worried I might escape, he would have made threats. I thought of what he said to Izzy—that his men were outside. I looked back at his nude form, understanding his ease. I wasn’t going anywhere because I couldn’t.

“Wash up,” he ordered without looking at me.

“No,” I retorted because my defiance was all I had left now.

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