Page 202 of Merciless Desires

Then he moved his mouth an inch to the shell of my ear, the heat from his lips almost blistering the skin.

My heart stopped when he opened his mouth.

“You smell just like my dreams.”

He lingered for several seconds and could probably hear my rabid heart clattering around, out of rhythm.

My chest rose and fell with laboured breaths and I continued to stare dead ahead. I wasn’t cut out for this. I was a virgin. I had no idea what I was doing. Or, more to the point, what he was doing. It was clear Dax Thorn was experienced, because who else could turn a woman on to the point of pain simply by smelling her? I was simply no match for him. I was wet between my thighs. Completely wet. And he was so utterly in control of himself. Shame and humiliation washed over me slowly, relishing in my discomfort.

My rambling inner dialogue was instantly halted when two large, warm hands clasped each side of my face and his body pressed against mine. His lips were still hovering at the side of my face, but when they pressed hot against my skin, I gasped, goosebumps erupting all over my skin. With each inhale, my breasts pressed into his chest, but his lips didn’t move. As awareness of my body returned in pieces, I also became aware of a pressure against my pelvic bone.

Was that…? Fuck.

Like a wanton hussy I pressed my hips forward a fraction. His lips left my skin and I heard a sharp intake of breath. Then he stepped backwards, allowing a chasm to open up between us. Cool air licked at my grateful skin and I immediately looked at his face. I thought I’d seen pain before, but never before a whole world of it ingrained into the colour of his cheeks and the crease of his forehead.

He looked away quickly as if the image of me had stung him. Then he bent down, lifted my dress up and covered my shoulders. Avoiding my gaze, he gently turned me around and drew the zip closed. I was glued to the floor in shock so felt almost thankful when he slipped my hand into his and walked me to the door.

I felt strange, as though my body was behaving brazenly of its own accord. This must be what lust feels like. My legs shook as we walked back towards the tower. Back towards my luxurious and decadent prison cell. I had just bared myself to him, let him trace every part of me and let him work me up into a literal frenzy, and he still hadn’t taken me. Did he have any intention of taking me? Was it all a ruse just to get a prisoner he could toy with? Because that’s exactly what he was doing.

I suddenly felt homesick. Not for my house, but for Mum and Remi, for my room, the road I lived on, things I could trust. As we neared the tower and its steep circular stairs, my heart did somersaults in my chest. I’d just been crazily turned on by someone who’d basically kidnapped me. I knew what this was – there was a well-known reason for behaviour like this. I was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. It was textbook. God, I was so unoriginal.

I didn’t feel anything for Dax; it wasn’t possible. I was protecting myself. My mind was playing a trick to help me process the trauma of being locked in a tower. A fucking tower.

I glanced around. One of the security guys was up ahead on the first floor. The other was right behind Dax, and Dax was right behind me. I looked down as we climbed, seeing the floor below inch further and further away. I felt along the wooden banister, then before I could second guess myself, I reached for the other side of the handrail, flipped my legs over and dropped fifteen feet to the ground. I crumbled in a heap, the pain only muffled by the sound of shouting. Dax was ballistic, yelling at the two men while scrambling down the stairs. I tried to get to my feet but my left leg wouldn’t work. I looked over my shoulder just in time to see Dax shove his security guard into the wall before practically throwing himself down the stairs. Fear punctured my lungs making it hard to breathe.

Why won’t my leg work?

I flipped onto my hands and knees, half-crawling, half-running back in the direction we’d come from. I’d seen the door I’d arrived through. That was my exit. I bit back a scream as what felt like daggers sliced my leg from hip to ankle. It was worse than excruciating. Thundering footsteps closed in on me and my heart banged at the base of my throat. I stumbled again, landing back on my left leg, the pain leaving me blind.

Warmth coursed through layers of skin into my tissues and bones. There was still pain but it was distant, as though it was outside of my body, not right in its core. I was floating, weightless, curled into a cocoon, feeling safer than I remembered ever feeling. A wave-like motion lulled me into a delirious bliss and I allowed myself to sink into this momentary departure into insanity. That had to be what this was, because there was no other explanation.

My lids fluttered as if in a dream and I saw movement beyond them. There was darkness directly before me and flashing colours in the periphery. Just beautiful.

“Breathe for me Rose.”

The deep voice jolted my lids open and with the realisation I was still very much in the middle of a nightmare came the pain. My leg burned with agony, and not the good kind of burn, the burn I felt everywhere else on my body. It was a bad burn. I’d broken my leg. Possibly in several places.

Now I really wasn’t going anywhere.

A spasm pierced through my knee and I willingly blacked out.

Chapter Ten

Rose

When I awoke again, I didn’t bother opening my eyes. Instead, I allowed whoever was in the room to believe I was still sleeping while I got a grip on my surroundings.

I heard breathing. Deep, steady breathing. It was coming from someone less than five feet away. I tuned out the sound to focus on others but after a minute or two I had to surmise there were none.

“I know you’re awake, Rose.”

The voice made me jump and with a fair amount of disgruntlement, I opened my eyes. Dax was sitting in an armchair, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.

“Your eyes move differently when you’re sleeping.”

I turned my face away, confused by the feelings raging around my chest. I wished I could blame the instant dryness of my mouth on the fact I hadn’t drunk any water for hours, but that wasn’t the reason. He was the reason. Seeing him fill out a chair that was made for him, seeing the concern tattooed across his brow and seeing his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, scars decorating his right forearm, made me light-headed. At the same time, I felt the weight of dread in my stomach, anchoring me to the bed. I’d tried to escape and it hadn’t worked. It would be the last time I’d ever leave this room.

“You suffered a bad sprain,” he said, with a softness that surprised me. I’d just tried to run away from him. Even after we’d shared… I didn’t know what to call it… a moment? I still struggled with what that was. He was my captor. It wasn’t right that I near as melted into a puddle under the swell of his gaze.

---