Page 26 of The Devil's Weakness

“Is Michael okay?” I barely get my question out.

“For now.”

“Please don’t hurt him,” I beg. “He has nothing to do with this.”

“As long as you comply, I don’t see a reason to use him as leverage. Unfortunately, he didn’t appear to be at home when we were there last night. Seems like a pretty big coincidence to me.”

I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing they haven’t got him.

“I have to say, the purple thong I found in your drawer is much sexier than your other panties. You should really think about getting more of those.”

If that wasn’t bad enough, he fishes that same purple thong out of his pocket and spins it around his index finger. I’ve never felt more embarrassed or violated in my entire life. But the real kicker is the fact that I can feel moisture pooling between my legs. This sick son-of-a-bitch who wants to kidnap me, and who knows what else, has me feeling something deep inside that I haven’t felt in ages. Tears prick my eyes again, but these aren’t sad, grief-filled tears. These tears are angry.

“I think you ought to wear this for me today,” he suggests.

“Go to hell,” I spit through gritted teeth.

Standing from the chair, he stalks across the room. I back away from him, but he doesn’t stop until he has me up against the wall outside of the bathroom. He presses his body against mine, and I can feel his erection digging into my hipbone. The fire that built in my stomach grows hotter. Knowing he’s turned on, I hate myself even more now.

“I can help you put this on if you need me to.” He holds the fabric so close to my face, I can smell the detergent I use to wash our clothes clinging to each silky thread.

I tuck the corner of my towel into itself to secure it around my body. Then, I take the thong from his hand and lift each one of my legs, putting it on underneath my towel.

“There, happy?”

I channel the fire within me, using it to help me rather than hold me back. I need to appear unaffected. Placing my arm over my boobs, I drop the towel before I walk to the bed to put on my bra and shirt. When I grab for my jean shorts, I find they’re gone suddenly. I whip around, looking for them, and I see he’s right behind me again, my shorts in his hand.

He holds them out for me, and I almost miss the slight gleam in his eye. I affect him too. Maybe his hard-on didn’t solely have to do with his dominance of me. I take my shorts and put them on. Then, I check the area to make sure I have everything before wedging my wallet into my back pocket.?

I plan on running, fast and hard, the minute I step out the door. To do that, I need to ditch my bag, but I can’t leave my wallet behind.

“Ready?” I ask, grabbing the straps of my backpack.

“About time. Let’s go, little girl,” he orders, walking past me.

With eyes narrowed on him from anger, I follow him to the door. Thankfully, he walks through it first. That will give me a second more head start because he won’t see me take off immediately. He goes left, toward the passenger side of the large truck parked in front of the door. Thesametruck that I saw in the parking lot of the motel and the gas station yesterday.

Motherfucker.Hewasfollowing me.

I can’t think about why he waited to confront me. I tuck that thought into the corner of my mind to obsess over at a later time. Dropping my bag, I take off around the opposite side of the truck. There is a wooded area ahead of me, and I push myself as hard as possible to make it there. My fear catches up to me before he does, and hot tears cover my cheeks just as I cross the entrance to the woods.

I can hear shouting behind me, so I know he’s coming, but I don’t know how close he is. I wipe the tears from my eyes as I run to clear my vision. A split second later, it feels as though a boulder knocks into me from behind as I’m thrown to the ground. He rolls me onto my back and lays his body over mine, securing my wrists in his hand above my head. His other hand snakes its way around my neck.

“Big fucking mistake, little girl,” he threatens viciously.

“I’m not a little girl,” I scream, sobbing, trying to get out of his hold.

“I tried being nice,” his face contorts with anger, “but no more. You want a fight? Now, you’ve got one.”

His words paralyze me, just as they did inside the motel room. Why did I think I was going to outrun him? Outrun them? Outrun my mistake? My fight ceases, and I go limp beneath him. My eyes close with the weight of my grief.

I wait for him to move his body from mine, but something else happens instead. I feel a warmth near my chin, and I open my eyes to find him licking away tears that I’d long thought dried. His anger from a moment ago appears to have gone. I lay there, confused by his actions once again.?

He licks a slow, sensual path from my chin to my temple, collecting more of my tears along the way. When he’s finished, our eyes meet, and I can see a fire in his normally frigid gaze. His lips come close to mine, and I think he’s going to kiss me.?

My feelings confuse me. I want this man to let me go just as much as I want to know what it would feel like for our lips to touch. I want to push him off of me just as much as I want to hold him close. I can feel his stare drawing me in, just like it did earlier. I see a wide array of emotions within them: hurt, pain, sadness… pleasure.

Once again, as though something clicked in his head, as though someone snapped their fingers, his hypnotic gaze releases me.?

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