Page 43 of The Freedom in Captivity

That nickname again. He uses its so sparingly, I have to wonder if it’s a mistake.

“You faked being asleep,” I accuse with narrowed eyes.

His smirk is playful, and from our position, I could imagine him giving me it for another reason entirely. One much more pleasurable. “Wanted to see what you’d do. I’ll admit, I’m a bit disappointed you didn’t try to escape, but getting a weapon was a nice touch.” He releases one of my wrists to pick up the knife, clicking the button that opens it, his gaze studying the blade with the same look one would give their lover. “What was your plan with this?”

“I have no clue,” I answer, but it comes out breathy as the blade lowers to my chest. Still covered by his shirt, I don’t feel it as he lightly traces the material, lifting himself off me with every inch.

“That’s too bad,” he murmurs. “I really wanted to see you fight, Rozelyn.”

When he passes over my stomach, I still. “Why?” That’s contradictory to everything happening.

“To find a bit of the girl I once knew in there. Submission isn’t your style.”

“Told you, I’m not the same.We’renot the same.”

“No,” he agrees, dragging the blade over my hip. “We’re not. And yet, I still can’t get you out of my head. You’ve fucked me up. You’refuckingthings up.”

He inches his shirt over my hip until my pussy is bared to him. His actions take me back to last night when he was hateful and vengeful and apparently trying to make a point that I think he failed in making, but there’s a stark difference this time. He doesn’t look irate. Doesn’t look like he’s ready to kill me.

He blames me for playing games, but I have to wonder if that’s what this is.

“Why did you let me shower?”

Dark eyes flash to mine. “Because you wanted it.”

The room falls silent, with only our breaths filling the space. Maybe what he said was purposeful on his part; maybe it was by accident, but there’s a deeper fact buried within his words.

An emotion neither of us will name.

Add that to the fact he knew what I wanted even before I did. Obviously, I wanted a shower. A comfortable place to sleep. Not to live out my potential final days in a dank basement, but the moment Dad handed me those laced marijuana gummies to drug Aurora Corsetti with and when I didn’t hide my identity by using my full name on the garden’s volunteer list, I knew the outcome of my future. Things I wanted would no longer be a part of it.

Breaking our stare, Flynn trails the sharp blade in the space beneath my stomach. I suck in a breath, careful not to make it easier for him to cut me.

“Why am I in your bed?” I dare ask.

“Because you want to be.”

Do I? I don’t know what I want anymore, but he apparently does.

“That so?”

Flynn makes a noise of agreement in the back of his throat and he leans back on his knees, gaining use of his other arm again, which was propping him up. He’s still crouched though, his face dangerously close to my pussy, where he drags the blade back and forth over my mound.

“Yeah,” he finally speaks, bringing his free hand toward my core. A single finger swipes between my slit; he moves quickly and effortlessly, my desire for him making it easier. “Because how else do you explain this,mon soleil?”

In the light of his room, the tip of his index finger shines.

Jesus.I’m getting turned on by his knife—byhim. By the perilous danger involved in being in this bed with him.

“And?” I challenge with a lift of my eyebrows. “I bet you you’re getting hard by this too.”

“Maybe. But I’m not the one pinned to a bed.” With the same hand, he pushes between my legs, parting them slowly. I don’t fight it and his gaze drops right to my core, a fresh wave of hunger filling his expression. “You’re not arguing, Rozelyn. Not fighting. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

I am. I shouldn’t but I fucking am. With the blade, he traces down to my thighs, skirting over the most sensitive parts of me that have my teeth biting into my bottom lip.

“You are too,” I counter, when my voice begins working again. It’s low, wanting. “You’re in control here. If you don’t want me to feel pleasure, maybe you should stop.”

The look in his eyes reminds me of a better time. The playful viciousness as he drags the knife back up, lifting it a fraction so it breathes over my skin as he dances it along the hood of my clit.

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