Page 11 of Morally Grey

“Grey,” I whisper as I get closer to an edge I shouldn’t be on. This is ethically wrong.

Even so, I come to thoughts of his body moving against mine as an earth-shattering orgasm rattles the metal beneath me.

I climb off the washer, step out of the boxers, and look at them. Streaks of my come paint them, and for some reason, I can’t throw them in the wash. I want them against me forever. But I do throw them in, along with his shirt.

My guilt washes away with his as our clothes intermingle, but my newfound longing for him flows deeper than can be cleansed. This is going to be a problem.

Chapter Eight

Grey

Lightning strikes just outside the basement window that’s too small for me to squeeze through. Believe me. I tried. Thunder claps, and I jump from my skin at the sheer ferocity of the sound. The house seems to groan above me, mirroring my unease. The next flash of light is accompanied by a loud boom, followed by total darkness.

The power has gone out.

A door opens with a high-pitched whine, and footsteps creak on the stairs. Moments later, the second door swishes open and closes again, followed by the locks engaging. A flashlight kicks on, and the beam bounces around the room until it lands on me. I shuffle the chain connecting my legs to the wall to show her I’m still confined. Satisfied, she moves toward the breaker box and begins flipping switches, but nothing happens.

As she continues fiddling with the fuse box, I squat and gather the long chain in my hands, then turn my attention back to her. The flashlight’s beam offers just enough light that I cansee how cute she looks in her dark leggings and an oversized sleep shirt that exposes her right shoulder.

Stop that. She’s not cute. She abducted you.

But must those things be mutually exclusive? Can’t she be both dangerous and adorable? And it’s not as if I’m one to talk. I committed a murder less than forty-eight hours ago, and I’ve yet to feel any genuine remorse for what I’ve done.

“The power’s out,” she finally says. “Maybe it’s best if you come upstairs for the night. I’m not going to get any sleep now, so you can take the bed. It’ll be better than that pile of blankets.” She motions to the folded fabric lying on the concrete floor.

Gripping the flashlight, she steps closer and pulls the gun from the back of her waistband, then aims it at me. She sets the flashlight on the ground, keeping the gun’s muzzle aimed at my abdomen as she goes to unlock the chain attaching me to the wall. Unfortunately, she can’t do this with only one hand. She sets the gun by her foot, and I listen for the sound of freedom as the lock disengages.

Before she can straighten herself to face me, I leap for her. The key clangs to the floor. I snatch the chain from her hand and wrap it around her neck, pulling her tight against my body. She doesn’t fight within my grasp, even as the pressure tightens around her throat.

“You won’t do this,” she pants. “You only hurt people who hurt you.”

“What makes you think that?”

She sucks in a breath. “It’s just a feeling, Grey. I can’t explain it. You won’t hurt me, and we both know it.”

I tighten my hold on the chain. “And what do you call chaining me to a wall, hmm? You’re holding me hostage.”

“I’m not . . . hurting you,” she grits out. “I’m keeping you safe.”

“Yeah, until the bidding gets high enough for your liking. Then you’ll trade me off for a wad of cash.” I release my hold on the chain, push her away from me, and go for the gun. “I don’t need you to protect me, little psycho.”

She stumbles forward a few steps, then turns to face me as she finds her footing. “You don’t understand. If I don’t do this, I’ll...”

“You’ll what?” I squat and grab the flashlight, then stand and shine it into her face. Are those tears?

“Just fucking shoot me,” she says. “I can’t lose this fucking house. I’m as good as dead if I do.”

I can’t deny the absolute defeat in her eyes. It’s an emotion I recognize because I’ve been in her shoes. I’ve done despicable things because of walking in those same footsteps.

“They’re threatening foreclosure?” I ask.

Her legs give out, and she collapses to the floor. “What do you care? We can’t both win here. I need the money, and you need your freedom. To be honest, I don’t think I could have turned you in, anyway.”

“Maybe we can figure something out. Maybe there’s some mutually beneficial solution we haven’t thought of.”

She shrugs. “My life is fucking over. It doesn’t matter, and this was a stupid idea on my part.” Her head thumps against the wall as she leans back. “Could you just give me one small thing?”

“What’s that?”

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