Page 35 of Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

10.

Livvy

My eyes begin to open to the feel of warm water cascading down onto my head and shoulders. My face pressed against cool tile, a warm hard, very naked body pressed to my back.

“Thought a shower might bring you around,” he whispers in my ear before kissing the lobe. I feel him tracing his hardened cock up and down the seam of my ass.

I suck in a sharp breath. Deep in his delusion, Michael takes it as my enjoyment or compliance and presses his shaft between the cheeks like a hotdog between a bun. The muscles in my body seize up. I try to calm myself because tense muscles will only make it hurt worse when he enters. And I know that’s next.

How did I get here? What did I ever do to deserve this?Jesus, I’m beginning to wish Houdini had just killed me, then it would already be over. My stomach cramps and I feel about to vomit.

Then—more blackness.

When next my eyes begin to flutter open I’m lying in a soft bed, between clean white sheets and fresh-smelling fluffy white comforter, on my belly and wearing a navy blue man’s T-shirt.

Scenes of being pressed up against the shower tile with Michael pressed to my back pass through my mind. I throw a hand to my mouth to stifle my sob. I don’t want Michael knowing I’m awake yet.

Funny thing, as I allow myself to take in breaths deep and shallow enough to calm down, I realize I don’t ache anywhere. Not anywhere. He was going to take me in the shower. But… after I slowly check crevices not usually on my checklist, for I don’t know, body fluids? There’s nothing. No pain or even tenderness.

He didn’t do it.

Thank god.

He didn’t do it.

My reprieve ends, however, when my captor walks into the bedroom, dark from the pulled shades under the curtains which match the walls, only with accents of tiny white and sage green interlocking geometric patterns. On the tray he’s carrying, a steaming mug and a bowl.

It’s a standard room. Four cheerily painted walls in a robin’s egg blue. One painted white closet door, one painted white door to the hallway and one large window, white painted sill and trim.

He sits on the edge of the bed, leaning over to set the tray on my lap. Dressed weekend casual, he’s in a pair of dressier-looking navy sweatpants and a shade lighter blue T-shirt tucked into the waistband. White sneakers on his feet. The whole scene is surreal. Yesterday, this gentle-looking man blew a security guard’s face off.Splat, just as if he’d shot a ripe melon. He abducted me. Sedated me. And honestly tried to have his way with me.

“How are you feeling?” Michael’s question breaks into my thoughts. He’s smiling happily, like he’s surprised hisgirlfriendwith breakfast in bed, not his captive.

I touch my forehead. “Groggy,” I say honestly. If he’s not in a bad mood, no sense putting him there. He has to trust me for me to even stand a chance at escape.

Let him trust me. Let him trust me. Without a hint of revulsion, I don’t flinch when he cups my neck to draw my lips closer and gives me another one of his wet, sloppy kisses. “Sorry, Liv. This was my fault.”

Yeah, tell me something I don’t know, I think as he continues on. “I think I gave you too much tranquilizer, so we’re taking it easy until it’s all out of your system.”

When he pauses, I know he’s waiting for a response. “Oh, um… thank you,” I say placating this man, whose jugular I’d really like to shove a knife into and run.

Apparently, my response is the right one. Where’s my Oscar? Best actress during an abduction. His smile turns—well, if he weren’t a crazy SOB who kidnapped me, I’d say it turns sexy. Tipping up at one corner.

“Eat,” he orders. Dammit, I hear the rumble in my stomach and the food looks delicious. Coffee, oatmeal with brown sugar and butter, and a delicate, buttery croissant. He even set a sprig of green grapes on the plate next to the croissant. “You need to get your strength back.”

He’s right about that. If I stand any shot of escaping this crackpot, I will definitely need my strength.

“Thank you, Michael. You’re being very kind.”

“Nothing’s too good for my girl,” he replies.

If I hadn’t seen him blow that man’s head off yesterday, I’d almost feel sorry for the poor guy.

The way he watches so eagerly as I spoon up some of the oatmeal into my mouth, there’s a brief, unbidden fear that he’s drugged my food. But that fear evaporates quickly enough. To get what he wants, he needs the drugs out of my system. So putting more in me makes no sense.

“Delicious.” I praise him. “You make wonderful oatmeal.” Then I pick up the sprig of grapes and pull one off with my teeth. I turn and offer him some, too.

He bends forward to suck a grape into his mouth. “Mmm…” Juice squirts from between his lips as he chews. “Thank you, Liv.”

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