Page 63 of The Phantom's Vice

Ghost tilts his head. “That is one of my oversights. I’ll have Orion drop them off within the hour.”

“Oh. Thank you.” I’m not too sure how happy I am to see the kid that dragged me back here, but I guess I can forgive him if he’ll bring me tampons. “And… I probably need another shower.”

Ghost tenses, his head moving ever so slightly as he takes in my body. “I can help with that.”

I sigh, rolling my eyes as I swing my legs over the side of the bed. “Uh-huh. I’m sure you can.”

After another shower—and, though I hate to admit it, one or two more orgasms—Ghost exits the shower to grab my supplies from where Orion apparently left them while we were busy. When he returns with the box of tampons, I nearly squeal with joy. That is, until he insists on putting it in for me.

I’m finding out that I’m down for a lot of things, but my God, is there no line this man won’t cross?

After much disagreement, Ghost eventually lets me do it myself—though I swear, if I could see his face, he’d be pouting.

The sicko.

Tampon in place, I step into the bedroom where Ghost waits with a towel, ready to wipe off the residual drops from the shower. His hands travel slowly over my shoulders and neck before traveling south, where he lingers between my legs though he just spent well over an hour exploring me. My whole body is pruned and exhausted, but he seems like he’d like nothing better than to take me back to the bedroom and spend the rest of the day touching my body.

I admit, the orgasms are helping with the light cramps I’ve been experiencing since I woke. And he hasn’t said a single thing about the blood—like he doesn’t realize it's there—so I guess I’m just going to enjoy it.

Until I find a way out of this place, that is. Though I’ve definitely started to warm to the Phantom, I haven’t forgotten my mission. I’m still a federal agent, and a few lousy orgasms aren’t going to stop me from hauling this guy away in cuffs. I just have to get on his good side, get him to trust me, and then I’ll finish the mission.

Yeah, right. What a load of shit.

I know it’s a lie as soon as I say it, but I can’t come to terms with what it means. Am I actuallyfallingfor Ghost? The idea seems preposterous, yet…

Yet you let him make you come. Multiple times.

I almost groan aloud, notice Ghost's face trained on mine, and hold it back. I shift my gaze, looking anywhere except that black oval, desperate for him to stop looking through me like that.Like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

A shiver runs through me, but then my eyes catch something rectangular on top of his dresser, and my mouth pops in surprise.

“You read romance books?” I squint my eyes, and–-sure enough—I recognize the title on the spine.The Best Week. That’s so funny, I was reading that before he kidnapped me…

“Ghost…?” I look up at him, but his head is trained on my core, his hand clenching and unclenching at his side. “Earth to Ghost.”

“It’s given me many ideas,” he murmurs, stepping between my thighs and pressing his hardening cock against my core. “I can show you if you’d like.”

I squirm against him, wishing I could open my mouth and tell him,yes, that is exactly what I would like.But no. I need to stay strong. I need to remember my ultimate goal.Taking down the Sanctum.

Luckily, I don’t have to say anything because the rumble of my stomach is the perfect answer. Immediately, Ghost steps back, holding out his bare hand for me to take.

“You’re hungry. Let me feed you.”

For some reason, this makes me blush. Yes, he’s tried to cook for me before, but considering I thought he was trying to poison me, I never got to appreciate the sentiment. I could be wrong about Ghost—Stockholm syndrome will have you thinking some whack-ass things—but my gut tells me he really isn’t going to harm me. In fact, I believe the opposite—that he will do everything in his power toprotectme.

He put himself in danger for me when he took out those other masked men, and his actions here at the lair only serve to strengthen my assumption. That Ghost wants to protect me—take care of me, even.

When I place my hand into his and let him lead me into the kitchen, I’m not afraid. When he pulls out a barstool and helps me up, I get a fuzzy warm feeling deep in my gut.If I don’t think about the person doing these things for me, it almost feels… good.

“What would you like for dinner, darling?” heasks, bending to retrieve a pan from one of the lower cabinets.

This is so fucking surreal.I look around the massive kitchen at the fresh produce lining the island. “Kraft Mac and Cheese?”

Ghost whips his head toward me. “Is that really all you would like?”

I shrug, my heart leaping into action as he fixes me with that faceless mask. “Um… If you have it, that is. I could also do, like, cheese cubes and crackers.”

“There is no nutritional value incheese cubes and crackers,Brett,”Ghost says, his voice slightly aghast. “Much less in boxed mac and cheese. This will not do.”

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