Page 59 of Text Me, Take Me

But I don’t want to leave, and I’m getting sick of pretending I do.

CHAPTER 21

DOM

When I wake, I watch Evie sleep for a few minutes. She lies on her side. The sheets pulled up around her chin. That’s probably for the best. If I saw her naked again, I’d lose it, and I know her inexperienced body probably needs the rest.

Last night was…

Magical.

Men like me aren’t supposed to say or even think words like that, but I can’t deny the truth of it.

First, the way she responded when I walked into this room with my mind in a lust-fueled haze. I couldn’t think about anything except her perfection. I thought she might tell me to back off, but then she gave herself to me, indulging my domination.

Then after, when I woke from a night terror, on-edge, borderline goddamn hysterical, and she talked me down. She made me understand I don’t have to be ashamed about my feelings.

Finally, the fact she’s still here. With no anklet keeping her prisoner, she remained. She made the choice. She could’ve left. Maybe sheshouldhave left. It would’ve been the reasonable thing for her to do.

But she stayed.

I don’t want to wake her. It’s only six AM. Climbing out of bed, I pull on my briefs and leave the room, but not before taking one last moment to look at her.

I shoot Rafe a text to check in about The Vultures situation, grab a quick shower, then head to the gym. Waking next to my woman has flooded me with a newfound energy. I need to work out, to exercise and exorcise these demons of desire.

Rafe texts back,

Rafe: Nothing yet.

Walking into the combat gym, I put on the MMA gloves and work the heavy bag for a few minutes, thinking about Mason and the other Vultures, thinking about what I’m going to do to those sick fucks when I get my hands on them.

The round timer goes off, and I turn, rolling my shoulders…

I stop when I see Evie standing across from me. She’s got her hair in a tight braided bun and she’s wearing a pair of my MMA gloves with a smile on her face. In her shorts and T-shirt, her form is outlined temptingly. My manhood shifts as it floods with firmness.

“Do you want to join me?”

“Joinyou?” She smirks. “I want to show you how it’s done. Come on–put them up.”

I chuckle. “You’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” she says with that adorable sassiness lacing her voice. She takes a stance–a decent one, honestly–and walks toward me. “Or are you scared?”

I raise my hands. “Promise not to hurt me?”

“I can’t do that, Warden.”

Ah, so even without the anklet, she enjoys teasing my kidnapper status.

She runs across the room, then aims a punch at my face. I duck to the side and wrap my arm around her, feeling her heat, pushing her against the nearest wall. My manhood tickles with tension, growing hard. “Do you think I want to hurt you?”

She glares at me, half jokingly, half real, the constant conflict blazing in her eyes. “I think you take what you want and you don’t care about the consequences.”

I spin, and she pushes against me. I don’t move, letting her tire herself out. She blows a wayward strand of hair from her forehead and raises her hands again.

I can’t help but smirk. “Are you going to run?”

She smiles–then wipes it away as if she’s trying to stay mad. Perhaps she thinks last night was a mistake. But no, I don’t think it’s that. I think she’s keen to assert herself, to remind me that while she’s staying, she’s still Evie with all the independence and vivacity that comes along with her, being her…

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