Page 113 of Bloom: Part 1

Apparently, I’d been having sex on adrenaline because now that it ebbed away, my ass was on fire.

“Shit. Does it hurt that bad?”

“No,” I lied. If he knew how much he’d wrecked me, he would be too gentle with me in the future. The aftermath might be uncomfortable, but it was so fucking worth it.

He shifted, moving carefully so as not to brush against my overly sensitive skin. His rough fingers traced gentle patterns along my thigh—an act of comfort, perhaps an apology.

“I’m sorry.”

“Logan, I’m fine. You didn’t do anything I didn’t want.”

“I can make it better. I’ll sneak out and get some—”

He started to get up, but I grabbed his arm. “No. Don’t leave me.”

“I just want to make it better.”

My heart thudded, and I breathed out deeply. “Please. It doesn’t hurt that badly, I promise. Just stay with me. Please.”

After all, we had no idea what tomorrow might bring. At least he didn’t. I would do everything I could to get him out of there.

31

LOGAN

As I came to consciousness, the first thing I noticed was the cold seeping into my bones. The second was that I couldn’t move my hands. I tried harder to pull them free, but to no avail. Groaning, I opened my eyes. My hands were bound tightly together by a chain that looked familiar. What the hell? Where was I?

The pale light filtered into the hospital bedroom, reminding me of where I was and why I was there. The gunmen. Had they found us?

I shook my hands, but the chain didn’t budge. Last night, Bloom had blown my mind when we’d had sex, but this was too much. Our safety came first. When we found a way out of the hospital, we could have all the kinky sex he wanted.

The bed was no longer against the door. Where the hell was Bloom? Had he gone out without me?

I tried to get up but stumbled back. My belt was tied around my ankles. I cursed under my breath, struggling to sit up. I must have been dead tired for him to get away with restraining mewithout me waking up. I strained my ears, trying to make out any sounds, but other than my breathing, nothing.

I twisted my wrists. The chain rubbed against my flesh, but I ignored the sting, focusing on getting myself free. I sought any leverage that might give me an inch of slack, but it was futile. Shit. I was stuck, truly stuck.

Where was Bloom? Was he okay? I could no longer deny the truth. He’d tied me up and left me.

Worry gnawed at me, an endless loop of increasingly dire scenarios playing out in my mind. Each minute felt like an eternity, stretching out before me with no end in sight. My imagination painted vivid pictures of Bloom, hurt or in danger, because of me, because he wouldn’t leave me behind. Why didn’t he value his life more? He was reckless, constantly putting himself in danger.

I had no idea how long had passed when the doorknob turned slowly, its creaking sound slicing through the heavy silence. The door opened a crack. I stiffened, drawing in a sharp breath, bracing myself for whoever was on the other side.

A slender figure slipped through. The tightness in my chest unraveled as the tension in my body rippled away, replaced by a flood of relief.

Bloom. He was okay.

He closed the door silently behind him. We stared at each other, the worry of the situation suspended between us. He held a bloody knife in his hand.

Shit.

“So this was your plan? You leave me tied up to wander off on your own?”

“I had to check out the floors to see what’s going on. Someone should have found us already. I don’t like not knowing what’s happening.”

“And it was necessary to tie me up?”

“Yes.”

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