Page 16 of Fight for You
“I don’t have an accent. How did you sle?—”
“News flash, you sound just like the other one. Now let me go.”
“Oh, sorry. Just wanted to know how you slept. I-I got lost in your eyes. Didn’t realize I still had you wrapped in my arms.”
What? Who said things like that? I yo-yoed up to my bare feetagain and glanced at my toes. Bits of grass and clumps of dirt. I smoothed a hand over the gold silk dress from yesterday.
“You were sleeping so well.” Jamie kip upped. If I looked up, his face would be inches from mine. I didn’t.
Another thought entered my mind. I licked my lips suggestively. “And yet you took the floor.”He’d bought me. Well…okay, he’d stolen me.I’d awoken in more precarious situations after being drugged by previous owners. Despite my long tenure with some, I still had no rights, and they preferred me unconscious on occasion.
“So … you took the floor.” My fingertips took a quick walk on the cement of his chest. Why hadn’t Jamie had his way with?—
“Don’t do that.” The order came with the force of a dominant.
“Do what?”
“Lick your lips or that.” He brushed my hands away. “You’re not attracted to me, Jordyn.”
If I wanted to, I might beg to differ. Most of my past owners were more than half my age.
“And I’d rather you not use your wiles as a device.”
“Wiles?” Once more, with a teasing smile, my fingertips took another seductive walk along his massive chest. Pure cement. Then I poked him in the chest and laughed. “Boy, I read a lot. Still haven’t come across that word—since I don’t do historical fiction. Are you stuck in the wrong era?” My arms folded, and I looked up. Being so close, I had to crane my neck to see him. Over a full head taller. That was it. I needed more than my standard six-inch stiletto. “Are you calling me a?—”
“No.” He scrubbed a hand in his hair, which fell across a shoulder. Jamie wore an undershirt and tailored pants that clad over his muscular thighs—a few copper red stains at the bottom of the pant leg.Blood. He hadn’t changed either. “I’m simply indicating that you don’t have to employ self-preservation techniques around me.”
“What techniques?”
“Exploiting yourself for survival.”
“Still sounds like you’re calling me a hoe!”
“No, it doesn’t, because you never could escape, Jordyn.”
My bottom lip trembled at the truth he spoke. I caught it between my teeth in a menacing hold. What kind of game was Jamie MacKenzie playing? One in which I was the Dom and he …
No. A game of impropriety, where he’d punish me if Ifollowedhis commands. My heart thumped against my chest in overdrive. A previous owner of mine went from sinner to saint in sixty seconds flat. It was up to me to follow his social cues and not respond to an act when appropriate. If Jamie was speaking of self-preservation tactics, then assessing a man’s demeanor was one of them. Still, I wanted no part of this game.
“Okay, weirdo.” I spun around, my eyes quickly surveying the room. Large four-poster bed I’d lug out of here if I had the strength. A hallway led into the bathroom. A freestanding tub. I’d drag that out too if I weren’t afraid the boy who was supposed to rescue me wanted more of me than I wanted to give. Then I set my eyes on two sets of double doors leading out of the room and went toward them.
“Wait. You need clothes.”
My heart sank. Every man who’d ever purchased me knew my size. That was where the buck stopped. My size of lingerie, skirts, dresses, things of the sort. Never had a favorite color. “I knew you were like them.”
“I’d rather you call me a weirdo. Open that door.”
Mouth twisted, with my back to him, I did.Dang. A closet. That wasn’t where I intended to go. My immediate impulse was to strut right out of this man’s house and …
Where would I go?
“You could try on the sweats, Jordyn. They’re the only thingwith drawstrings, I’m afraid. Maybe pair them with an undershirt. I hadn’t thought things through.”
My gaze swept across the large half-empty closet, and I sighed. Thankful that he hadn’t started a temporary life for me. A life I might adore if his heart was as beautiful as that face.
That face.
Nope, Jordy. That was not a good place to watch when assessing body language. That gorgeous face. I ruined myself once. No lie. The South African king, Katlego, with his beautiful dark skin, which complemented my own. I didn’t know where his skin began and mine ended when we were together. And when I say I didn’t know who I was afterward, that was an understatement because before him, I didn’t have a favorite color, as I said. Every man who’d ever possessed me controlled every detail of my existence. The cycle started over again. With Katlego, I got comfortable. My guard slipped further than the lace he loved. And his favorite color became my own.
