Page 18 of Fervent

“When you made me tell you about Zach…or maybe the night I almost drowned in the river. Both were pretty fucking terrifying, Rafe.”

I stiffened all the way to my toes. “Talking about the past is a bad idea.” I pushed against her, but she only held on tighter.

“You’re scared you’ll remember.”

“Iwantto remember.”

“Are you trying to convince yourself or me?”

I sighed. “Both, maybe. Going there will open something that can’t be closed. Whether it’s my memories or a lunatic who’ll do worse damage—”

“You can never do worse,” she interrupted.

“What was our first time like? Did I hurt you? Did I make you cry?”

“You’re right. Let’s not do this.” Her voice wavered, telling me all I needed to know, yet I couldn’t stop picking at the scab of our history together.

“I did, didn’t I?”

“You were angry.” But I heard the pain behind those words. Our first time still haunted her, ached somewhere so deep, she’d never forget it existed.

“You didn’t deserve that. There’s wrong, then there’s wrong. I don’t need to recall those missing years to know I crossed a line.”

“Then uncross it,” she whispered. “Fuck me like it’s our first time.”

I groaned, but before I could protest, she slid down my chest, her dainty palms warm on my skin, and the cool metal of her leash followed suit. Her hair brushed my abs, her breath a tempting blast of heat on the tip of my cock.

“Don’t,” I told her.

“Why not?”

“Not the time or place.”

“We might not get another time or place. This might be it.” She paused. “Or is there another reason you’re holding back?”

Good fucking question.

I was kidding myself by not answering. She was too willing. Something about this room, about the suffocating blindness, drove me crazy. I tamped down the urge to force her onto her back, but my mind sprinted ahead. I imagined straddling her chest, my weight pressing her to the mattress, one hand fisting her tiny wrists as I shoved my cock deep into her mouth. Her eyes would pop open, her lips stretching as they wrapped tightly around my shaft.

Struggling to breathe, I bucked her off. That hadn’t been a fantasy, but a memory. I’d forced my cock between her lips in my room back on the island. The one that was undoubtedly turned to ashes now.

“What’d I do wrong?” The tremor in her voice sliced me deep, but it also sent a rush of blood straight to my cock. How could I hurt so much at the pain in her voice, yet want to force tears from her eyes all the same? I licked my lips, craving the salt of sorrow.

“It’s not you.”

“What is it, then?” She shifted on the bed, and her chain rattled through the darkness.

I became obsessed with that thing. It would be the perfect way to restrain her to my bed, the band of metal around her throat a constant reminder of my power over her.

Perfect…if I weren’t also trapped inside this dungeon with her.

Fuck. What the hell was wrong with me? This room, the welts on her body, that chain…all of it poked at my own personal Pandora’s box.

That chain…

Holy fuck. We had a weapon in here. Why hadn’t I thought of this sooner? I scrambled off the bed and wrapped a loose fist around the chain, following it to the hook in the floor. Reaching out, I slid my fingers down the smooth surface of the door, roughly two feet away.

Those assholes would come back, and when they did, I’d tangle them up in their own leash before they had the chance to drug me again. I prayed to God I could get my hands around their throats and apply enough pressure to subdue them. I’d fucking kill them if I had to. It’d be risky, especially if they were packing heat, but if I could get ahold of a gun…

---