Page 10 of Tempted By Sin

“We had a deal. I held up my end of the bargain so I suggest you do the same. I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty if you continue to make me wait. I’m not a patient man, so you better hurry the fuck up before I begin to lose what little patience I do possess.”

Silence.

“I’m unable to guarantee her safety the longer it takes you to sort your shit out. The clock is ticking, asshole. Either you hurry the fuck up or she’s gone.”

My brows crease with confusion. Who is he talking to? What is he referring to with the three days comment? And who is he expecting to arrive here?

The questions swirling in my mind make my vision foggy. But it doesn’t stop me from continuing to question why I’m here. Why me?

He mumbles some other words before the sound of shuffling shoes makes their way in my direction.

“Shit,” I curse, my heart rate spiking.

With the chain gripped firmly in my hands, I race back to the bed and climb atop it, hoping the squeaking springs can’t be heard through the door. If I’m caught listening in on his private conversation, it might just be the thing that sends him over the edge. I don’t need to give him a reason to hurt me.

Seconds later, the lock unlatches on the door, and it swings open, slamming against the wall behind it. My instinct is to jump, but I would hate to give away my sneakiness because of that. I just need to play it cool and act like I just woke up.

He storms into the room, his intimidating height making me shrink back against the headboard. Oh, god. He knows I was listening, and now he’s going to hurt me. I just hope that when he kills me, I’m still recognizable to my mom and Liam. If anything—

My eyes widen when the man walks to the chair in the corner of the room and sits down, spreading his long legs out. His eyes are focused on me, his curls messy around the edge of the mask. For a man who was arguing with someone on the phone moments ago, threatening to potentially hurt me, he’s oddly relaxed. But not quite, if his white knuckles gripping the armrests are any indication.

The silence in the room is suffocating. My grip on the sheets tightens as I match his gaze, waiting to see what he wants. This is the first time he’s entered the room without a tray of food or gesturing for me to leave to use the bathroom.

“What do you want?” The words are barely audible, sounding as small as they do to my ears. But I had to ask. If he’s going to kill me, I would like the chance to prepare myself for what’s to come or at least try to fight back. “Are you going to hurt me?”

As usual, he doesn’t say anything. He just watches me, his gaze so intense my skin prickles, forming goosebumps in its wake. With the silence building between us, and him making no move to speak or leave, I have no choice but to stare back at him. I refuse to let this man think I’m weak, so if I have to hold his gaze for the next hour, then so be it.

The longer we stare at each other, neither of us moving an inch, the more it fuels the fire simmering deep in my core. I don’t know why it ignited or why I haven’t put it out yet. Maybe it’s the way his thick arms rest on the chair, the tattoos on his right arm on full display, or the taut muscles beneath the thin material of the black T-shirt clinging to his torso. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been chained to his bed for who knows how long, and I’m craving a human touch—someone to touch me, kiss me,pleaseme.

I’m aware such thoughts about my kidnapper are wrong. Borderline fucked up, even. But I can’t get the image of his large hand grazing my hip gently before he pulls my body flush against his, the warmth of his chest radiating through my shirt out of my mind.

I know Liam’s face should be the first to come to mind when having such a fantasy, but it doesn’t. No. The face that comes to mind is the one sitting across from me, hidden behind a haunting mask.

What the hell is wrong with me?

My eyes widen when he leans forward on the chair and rests his elbows firmly on his knees, making his biceps bigger than they already were. I swallow hard at the sight, my mouth suddenly dry as if I had stuffed cotton balls inside.

“I know you’re thinking about me, little bird.”

CHAPTERSEVEN

Paetyn

I blink at him,unable to form a single thought, let alone a sentence to respond to his comment. The masked man blurs in my vision as I process his insane suggestion.

Thinking about him? Has he lost his damn mind? In what world would I be thinking sexually about the man who kidnapped me, has had me chained to a dingy bed for days, and refuses to speak to me? The thought is insane, that’s what it is.

And yet, I feel the dampness between my thighs from my fantasy from moments ago when I thought about him touching me, his large hands caressing my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I shiver at the thought.

Yeah, I’m a fucking liar because Iamthinking about him, and that’s the problem.

But I won’t admit that to him, no matter how long he sits there and stares at me with his head tilted to the side as he regards me.

God, I’m pathetic.

“You’re wrong,” I manage to bite out despite the harsh beating of my heart against my rib cage. “You want to know what I’m thinking about?” He simply clasps his hands together in response. “I’m thinking about how much I’m going to enjoy seeing you behind bars when I’m rescued.”

The man snorts, followed by a booming laugh that rattles my insides. It’s so deep and sultry that I have to fight from squeezing my thighs together at the sound.

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