Page 50 of Just a Bit Captivated

Look at you. You’re lazing around in this fancy penthouse while your family probably thinks you’re dead.

Aiden’s stomach twisted. That was true. But he was going home soon. A few weeks wouldn’t make a difference to his family. And how could he have contacted them?

You’ve been handed a phone twice today. You could have easily called Mom instead of flirting with Zain over the phone.

Aiden went still, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

It was… It was true. All of it. He hadn’t even thought of calling his family. He could have easily done that. It wasn’t like his bodyguards had been all that watchful while he talked to Zain. It wasn’t like it would have been impossible to slip away from them. But he hadn’t even considered it.

This is a textbook case of Stockholm syndrome. You sympathize with your captor, you don’t want to leave him, and you feel anxious away from him. Run away, you idiot. This is not good for you.He’snot good for you.

Aiden squeezed his eyes shut and tried to bring his chaotic thoughts into a semblance of order.But he couldn’t.

All of it was true. He needed to leave.

But he’d never see Zain again.

The thought was paralyzing. He couldn’t—he couldn’t do it. Not yet. He needed just a little more time. Maybe another week. Yes, another week. And after that, he’d go to the embassy. And then it would be over.

But not yet.

There was the sound of footsteps.

“Aiden?”

He lifted his head and stared at Zain, trying to summon the burning hatred he’d used to feel for him.He used to hate him, right? He used to hate him a lot.

But looking at that hard, chiseled face right now, all Aiden could feel waswant. And the want wasn’t just lust; it was much worse than that. Zain’s presence made him feel on edge—and made something in his soul relax. It felt like his skin was too small, crawling with the need to be closer, to feel Zain’s arms around him.

God help him, he wanted a hug right now. Ahug. From the man who owned him. It was official: he was an idiot.

Aiden sighed.“I just realized that you Stockholm syndrome’d me.”

His brows furrowing, Zain walked forward.“I don’t know that expression.”

“Google it,” Aiden said with a crooked smile. “I don’t really feel like explaining it to you.”

Zain pulled out his phone and started tapping on its screen.

Aiden laughed.“Are you actually Googling it?” he said, nudging Zain’s thigh with his bare foot.

“Yes,” Zain said, absently catching his foot with his hand, his gaze on his phone.

Aiden shivered, his toes curling at the touch.

“Hmm,” Zain said.“Stockholm syndrome is a coping mechanism to a captive or abusive situation, when the victim develops positive feelings toward their captors over time.” He lifted his gaze, his dark eyes glinting as he met Aiden’s eyes.“Are you saying you developed ‘positive feelings’ for me?”

There was a great deal of mockery in his tone, but his grip on Aiden’s foot was strong and kind of possessive.

Aiden’s face felt far too warm.“Don’t flatter yourself. The only positive feeling I have is for your cock.” He pressed his toes against Zain’s crotch and licked his lips slowly.

Zain’s expression darkened. Shoving Aiden’s foot aside, he spread Aiden’s legs wide and lay down between them. The chaise lounge creaked under their combined weight as Zain leaned forward, looming over him, their unsteady breaths mixing, their erections pressed snugly against each other.

“Is there a name formypredicament?” Zain said, wrapping a hand around Aiden’s throat.

Aiden whined, grinding their cocks together. God, he wanted to come. He wanted to get fucked. He wanted Zain inside him, as deep as possible. “What predicament?” he gasped out, looking at Zain’s firm lips hungrily.

Zain’s jaw worked. He said nothing.

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