Page 50 of Becoming His Pet

“Yeah?” She tried to sound casual.

The door pushed open and he flashed her a lazy grin from the doorway.

“I think you’ll need a brush to get some of the tangles out.” He stepped inside the small room and leaned over her, picking up the flat-back brush sitting on the sink. “Come in the living room, I’ll help.”

“Uh, no. That’s okay. I can do it.” She reached for the brush. “Is there coffee?” she asked quickly when he quirked an eyebrow at her.

“I can make some.” He watched her reflection in the mirror.

She smiled. “Thanks.”

His gaze narrowed, but he didn’t say anything else. “Hurry up with your hair if you want breakfast.”

“On a plate today?” she asked before thinking better of it.

“We’ll see,” he countered and left the room.

She needed to work on her distraction techniques. Something obviously wasn’t right with him, or her, or this entire fucked-up situation, and she needed to get to the bottom of it. All she needed to do was remain sweet, obedient, and he’d let her call Bernie.

After whipping the brush through her hair, and cursing at the knots a few times, she left it next to the sink and made her way to the kitchen.

“Greg, I’m a little cold. Can I have clothes now?” she asked when she was close enough to be heard.

He looked over his shoulder at her, his gaze wandering over her naked form. “There’s a robe in the playroom, behind the door on the hook.”

A robe.

At least she’d be a little warmer. And covered. Maybe being naked didn’t bother her in general, but when he was fully clothed, and she needed to probe for answers, she didn’t want any bit of vulnerability to course through her confidence.

She grabbed the black cotton robe from the hook and tied it around her waist. The door to the crate was open. The pillow and blanket he’d given here were still inside. What if he suspected that she suspected him? Would he put her back in there?

She needed to disable the door somehow. Break the lock or something. Looking around the room for anything that would work, she took in the reality of his playroom. Ropes, leashes, collars, gags, paddles, belts, straps, canes—more than what he used on her, they were just the beginning of what she found. The man had a full arsenal.

Pushing the thoughts of having any of those things in his hands about to use them on her away, she kept searching.

“Yes!” she whispered her victory when she found a hammer in one of the drawers.

Closing the door to the playroom so he couldn’t hear, she then went to work. Using the back of the hammer, she worked on the bolt until it was too disfigured to fit into the lock. It would be better if she could break it off, but he’d hear her if she started hammering away at steel.

“Nora?”

Dammit.

She tossed the hammer to the floor, kicking it toward the back corner of the room and opened the door.

“Found it.” She stepped out into the hallway, a little more out of breath than she should have been for just getting a robe. “I thought you said bedroom door, but you said playroom,” she explained and passed him.

“You okay?” he asked, following right behind her.

She headed for the coffeemaker.

“Yep.” Nora poured herself a cup of coffee, forgoing the usual heap of sugar and cream she used and went straight for the caffeine.

His gaze narrowed again, but he kept silent while she sipped the mud he called coffee. She needed to find a Starbucks once they were out of the woods.

“So, have you thought about letting me call Bernie this morning?” Maybe deferring to him would get him to help her, or at least enough so she could start making her own plan.

“Yeah. I did.” He nodded.

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