feeding me as opposed to starving me like that ass Bolton had, and he’s gone so far as to have his mom bake me a cake.
That’s weird as hell, I have to admit, but it gives him an air of safeness that I’m struggling against.
If his mother’s sending me dessert, she must know about me in some sense, and that means he’s lied to her or they’re all a bunch of lunatics.
The movie lasts another half hour or so, and I have to stop a smile when he starts ad-libbing in an accent.
When it ends, he stands with a groan and stretches. Instead of being afraid of all that muscle and strength, I just sit and gape when I catch a peek of his abs.
Once upon a time I would have been into this guy. I mean, I’ve never been that girl who only cares about looks. After all, my favorite of the two boyfriends I’ve had was not easy on the eyes, but damn was Dev smart and his sense of humor just did it for me.
Too bad even plain guys expect sex, and at eighteen, that was not on the table. Tav was good, too—athletic, a little dim, but nice all the same. I loved spending time with him, but when there were no sparks that night he tried to get in my pants, the relationship fizzled.
I always end up with the nice guys, but damn are the bad boys attractive, and this guy is no slouch in any of those departments. Too bad I’m not me anymore, and he’s my kidnapper.
And I’m damaged beyond repair.
“You ready for bed, baby?” he asks after a few minutes of stretching and giving me a show.
I practically have to roll my tongue back into my mouth to swallow past the lump of fear in my throat. Does he plan to sleep with me?
Oh hell no! As it is, I’ll be lucky if my eyes let me blink, never mind sleep, and he wants me to lie beside him in a bed without having nightmares about him going all serial-killing, ax murderer on me!
“Er…you locking me back in that room?”
That gets me a smirk and a quirked brow.
“Nope.”
Huh. So informative this one is. (Spoken in a Yoda voice.)
I cough twice.
“You are not sleeping in the same bed, room, or square footage as me.”
Remember what happened the last time a guy found you hot?
Oh yeah. Not something I’m likely to forget this century, and not something I’m looking to repeat, even if he does seem somewhat normal and nice and not into stabbing me to death with an ice pick.
“Ellie, baby, princess, I’ll sleep wherever I please and you can’t do a damn thing about it. Considering that I know you and that I know, without a doubt, that the minute I leave you alone you’ll be trying to get out of here, I’m pretty sure that you’ll be sleeping beside me, handcuffed to me for the next little while. Stop pouting and glaring at me, baby, you can’t win this one.”
With that dictate, he stalks closer, throws me over his shoulder, and proceeds to lug my protesting form out of the huge living room, up the stairs, and down a long corridor to a master bedroom that’s big enough for two and a half of my apartments to fit into comfortably.
“Shut it,” he yells when I start cursing a blue streak and pounding at his lower back.
“No, you! Put me down, you behemoth!”
A thwack to my ass shuts me up before he tosses me onto a bed and stands over me glaring.
A screech leaves me and I scramble to the headboard before looking around. The place is a palace, a freaking designer’s dream of dark blues and blacks, and the damn bed is bigger than a normal king.
Wyatt, I notice, is still glowering, fit to peel the skin off me as he stands beside the bed with his hands on his hips.
“You’re being a real pain in the ass, Ellie. We’re here to sleep, that’s it, so stop being melodramatic! Now lie your ass down and give me your left wrist.”
A drawer scrapes open and he pulls out a pair of lined cuffs that make me think of the set I once bought a friend as a gag gift.
“No.”
That sets him off and he falls on me as I kick and scream, settling so much