Page 48 of Ensnared
As I entered his room, the dim light from his bedside clock cast a soft glow on his twisted form. He was clutching the sheets, his knuckles tight as another tortured cry escaped his lips. My heart ached for him. Without a second thought, I hurried to his side, sitting on the edge of the bed and gently running my fingers through his damp hair.
“Shh, Easton,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sound of his labored breathing. “It’s just a dream.”
His body gradually relaxed under my touch, and his eyes fluttered open, unfocused and dazed. “Joey, you came to save me,” he muttered, his voice heavy with sleep.
I offered him a small, sad smile. “Always.”
He swallowed hard, his gaze still distant. “It was the same. It never changes. We’re trapped… she’s already dead, and it takesthem ages to get us out. I held her hand, and when I finally let go… her skin was already cool.”
My chest tightened at his words, the pain in his voice cutting through me like a blade. Easton didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to have his mother’s death haunt him every night.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, cupping his sweaty cheek, my thumb brushing away the remnants of his nightmare.
“Stay with me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, vulnerable in a way I’d rarely seen when he was awake.
I nodded, unable to refuse him, knowing that I needed his comfort as much as he needed mine. I stood and walked around to the other side of the bed, slipping beneath the cool sheets. The mattress dipped as I moved closer to him, and we met in the middle, his strong arms pulling me against his chest. His warmth enveloped me, and for a moment, I allowed myself to forget everything else. If I had to marry an Ashworth, why couldn’t it be him?
“Thank you,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear.
“Easton,” I began hesitantly, “do you have these nightmares when you stay with… women?”
He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch gentle. “Usually not. A companion in my bed keeps them away.”
“I’m glad,” I whispered, even though the thought of him with other women twisted something deep inside me.
He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, and I closed my eyes, savoring the brief moment of peace. “Why are you marrying my father?” he asked suddenly, the question hanging in the air between us like a storm cloud.
My heart skipped a beat. Easton had never broached this subject before, and I wasn’t sure how to respond. I couldn’t tell him the truth, that his father had dangled the futures of my family in front of me like bait, promising me the world if I just agreed to be his wife. Their lives were in my hands, and I couldn’t risk losing everything.
“He asked,” I said, my voice weak, knowing how hollow the words sounded.
“You could’ve said no,” he countered, his tone firmer now. “You’re too good for him. My mother was too good for him.”
I pressed my face into the crook of his neck, hiding from the truth I couldn’t speak. “It’s too late, Easton. The die is cast, and I have to follow through, or there will be consequences.”
“Consequences?” he repeated, his voice laced with concern.
I realized I’d said too much, revealed more than I intended. I bit my lip, searching for a way out. “You know your father,” I said quietly, hoping he’d understand without needing further explanation.
He was silent for a moment, and then he sighed, a deep, resigned sound. “I do.”
His arms tightened around me, pulling me closer, his body curling protectively around mine. I felt a surge of gratitude for him—Easton, who was my only ally in this house of secrets and shadows. But despite his love and support, I knew he lacked the power to change anything. He’d refused to take his position at Ashworth after graduating, choosing instead to spend the summer enjoying himself before being tied to the family legacy.
But in the end, it didn’t matter. No one could save me from the choice I’d made. Not even Easton.
The next morning, I had barely settled into my room when a knock shattered the silence. Colson didn’t wait for an invitation; he simply stepped inside, exuding the casual authority that defined him. He was dressed in pressed shorts and a polo shirt, his muscular legs drawing my gaze despite everything. They were a weakness of mine, a reminder of how easily he could command my attention—even when I wished he wouldn't.
“We’re taking my yacht out. Get dressed and don’t wear those terry shorts I hate. A dress would be better,” he ordered, closing the door behind him. He remained there, watching me, clearly expecting me to change in front of him. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen my naked body before, but it still felt invasive. My skin prickled as I considered how close he was to catching the lingering scent of Easton’s cologne on me.
I walked to the closet, my mind racing as I selected a sleeveless dress with a subtle floral pattern. It was pretty, understated, the kind of thing Colson would approve of. I stripped off the dress shirt I’d slept in—his shirt—and hung it on the island before slipping into the dress. The fabric was cool against my skin, but I could still feel Colson’s eyes on me, every nerve on edge.
Suddenly, he was behind me, his hands cupping my breasts, his body pressing against mine. The dress bunched up as he ground against me, his breath hot against my ear. “I liked what you did last night,” he whispered, his voice low and dangerous.
What was I supposed to say to that? I was trapped, and we both knew it. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I whispered back, my voice barely audible.
He responded by tweaking my nipples between his fingers, sending a shiver down my spine. “I can’t wait to make you my wife. Now, get dressed,” he said, punctuating his command with a gentle slap on my ass.
I exhaled a shaky breath as he stepped away, but when I emerged from the closet, he was still there, sitting on the corner of my bed, watching me. His eyes were unreadable, but I knew better than to underestimate him.
