Chapter 4

4

Caleb

Iclean the virgin blood of my cock and force myself to stare at the red-stained towel.

At what I’ve done.

Christ, am I really this man? A man who…

Was it assault? Did I assault that sweet, beautiful, troubled girl?

The sleeping pills are supposed to stop me from having nightmares, but they’ve only made them worse. On top of the medicine making the images more vivid, more visceral, it takes time after I wake up to return to myself completely. I wake up wild, teeming with adrenaline as if I’m in the midst of battle and…there she was.

Shelter in a storm.

Softness in a world of splintering pain.

She put that innocent hand on my chest and I lost it. My cock wouldn’t be denied. All the black memories and shouts from the past went away as soon as we were skin to skin…and I couldn’t give that serenity up. Couldn’t stop. Didn’t stop to make her comfortable.

Or prepare her.

She was a virgin.

And I’m a goddamn monster.

I can’t sit there until the sun comes up, wondering if she’ll ever speak to me again. Wondering if there’s any way to repair the damage I’ve caused. I’m a man of movement, action, so I pull on jeans and a T-shirt, prowling the hallway outside of her door. It’s locked. It would be easy as breathing to kick it open, but I restrain myself. I’ve already used too much force tonight where this girl is concerned. Barreling my way in there would only make things worse.

Dammit, I don’t know anything about women.

What is going to fix this? Can anything fix this?

I just fucked her facedown without a hint of finesse. Or gentleness.

Or encouragement.

The dirty shit I said to her…Jesus, I deserve to be shot.

An apology isn’t going to be enough. I have to bring her something. But what? Flowers? That doesn’t seem like her style.

Food.

Candy.

Clothes.

She can’t live in borrowed shirts, right? I can go out and bring her back clothing to wear. There is a hidden road that leads down to the highway. I disguised it when I bought this place, wanting total seclusion. It’s only supposed to be for emergencies, but what the hell is this if not an emergency? She’s crying in there.

I rub at my chest and pace some more, once again considering the merits of kicking down the door. Somehow I refrain. I focus on the task at hand, instead. It’s dark out, the middle of the night, but there’s a twenty-four-hour Walmart less than ten miles away. She’s not going to try and run away in the pitch black, is she? So help me God, if she’s gone when I come back, I’ll tear down every tree in this fucking forest until I find her.

I go to the kitchen and pick up my car keys, grinding the metal teeth into my forehead, my chest on the verge of caving in, and I pace the floor like a lion.

I can’t chance it. I can’t chance her leaving.

Fuck. I’m only going to make things worse between us, but what other option do I have?

My pulse clamors in my ears as I retrieve a length of rope from the shed, dragging it behind me on the way to her room. “Open the door.”

A long pause. “No. I’m sleeping.”

My brows draw together. We both know she’s awake. “It doesn’t sound like it.”

Several beats pass. And then she pretends to snore.

Something heavy turns over in my chest. I think…I think I find her pretense amusing. And adorable. Now I’m even more determined to make sure she doesn’t run from me. “One last chance to open the door, girl.”

She snores louder.

A laugh threatens, but I shake it off. Step back and kick the door in.

She screams, scrambling on the rumpled bed and shielding her nakedness with a pillow. Her mouth opens to question me, but then she spies the rope and it snaps shut. “What…what are you doing?”

“I can’t have you leaving while I’m out buying an apology.”

That calm explanation doesn’t appear to reassure her. “Don’t tie me up, Caleb. I won’t leave. I-I have nowhere to go!” she sputters.

“Can’t risk it.” I move closer, running the length of the rope through my hands. “I won’t make it tight. It’ll only be for an hour or so.”

Her eyes dart toward the window, but I’m already shaking my head. “Don’t make me tie your ankles, too.”

“Please, please, don’t. I hate being tied up.” She sucks in a breath and goes still, visibly shocked at what she’s revealed to me.

I’m shocked, too. And flooded with rage. Like someone flipped a switch.

“Who the fuck tied you up?” I ask carefully, the rope creaking in my shaking hands.

She looks up at me with incredulous green eyes. “You are about to tie me up! How can you be upset at someone else for doing it?”

“Answer me now! Who was it?”

Victory lights up her expression. “No personal questions.”

I turn and punch a hole through the wall, mash my aching knuckles against my temple. “Is this what women do? Create a series of traps for men to step in? If I don’t tie you up, you’ll run away from me. If I do, I could make you cry again. There’s no right answer.”

“Yes, there is. You can trust me.”

“Absolutely not. I don’t trust anyone.”

“Me either. But…” She trails off, licking her lips. “I don’t know. Maybe we have to start somewhere, you know? We’re going to be here together for two weeks.” If she thinks I’m letting her leave in two weeks, she’s dead wrong, but I wisely don’t correct her. “If you don’t tie me up, Caleb, I’ll answer one personal question.”

Damn.

There’s no way to resist the temptation.

I want to ask her name, but if I do, our jig will be up. She’ll know I’ve been aware all along that she isn’t Sarah. And I’ve already determined she needs to hide a while longer before she reveals where she really came from. What she’s been through.

“Who tied you up?” I rasp.

Her fingers twitch against the pillow. “A doctor. Doctor Taylor.”

“Why?”

Slowly, she shakes her head. “That’s more than one question.”

Frustration burrows beneath my skin. “I will kill him for you one day.”

“Good,” she breathes, seeming shaken by her own response.

Something passes between. An understanding that we both have some darkness. It breeds more trust than the deal we made, the narrowing of my eyes and the answering flicker in hers. I get hard, impossibly so, in my jeans, aching to explore that darkness we share, but I need to make amends first. If she lets me back between her thighs, I’ll be lucky. There might be a little danger lurking in her, but not enough to keep her from crying. To keep her from running from my bedroom like she’d been attacked. She had, in a lot of ways.

Swallowing hard, I drop the rope. “If you run, I’ll find you.”

“I know.”

* * *

Juno

When Caleb returns an hour later,he’s white as a sheet. Sweat beads his upper lip, more perspiration soaking a patch of his shirt beneath his throat.

He’s holding two large bags in his hands, his knuckles leached of color around the handles. I couldn’t sleep with him gone, so I found a new shirt and waited for him in the kitchen. When he sees me at the table, a shudder goes through him and he heaves a breath.

He closes the door behind him and carries the bags over to where I’m sitting, setting them down at my feet. One by one, he pulls items from the bags and places them on the table. Three pairs of jeans, a mixture of thongs and bikini panties, a pair of sneakers, white tank tops, a pink hoodie, two casual dresses, some flowery shampoo and conditioner. Deodorant. The last thing he pulls out is a short, gray silk nightgown with thin straps, white lace at the hem.

When he’s done emptying the bags, he drags a chair over beside me and sits in it. We’re just two people sitting in the silent kitchen at one thirty in the morning, not talking. Slowly, he turns his legs toward me, leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. He turns his head toward me and I can barely breathe at the regret there.

I can’t have you leaving while I’m out buying an apology.

This is his way of saying sorry for what happened in his bedroom.

Emotion punches into my chest. Even though I ultimately got pleasure in his bed, I know I shouldn’t let him off the hook. He was aggressive. Domineering. And he took my virginity like a savage. Maybe it’s because no one has ever said sorry to me before—not for anything—that I find my hand creeping closer to his, stopping just short of holding it.

He stares at my hand, not breathing.

A clock ticks somewhere in the house.

Caleb swallows and scoots his chair an inch closer, turning more in my direction. His big chest lifts and falls, lifts and falls…

And then he does something I could never expect.

He lays his head down in my lap.

I despair over the way my heart seems to expand, fluttering wildly. He greeted me with a shotgun, physically overpowered me and threatened to tie me up—and it hasn’t even been a full day yet. Despite all of that, I think I could have serious feelings for this man, despite his obvious madness.

Does that make me mad, too?

I’ve always denied it, but now I’m not so sure. Because I find myself reaching down and stroking his hair. One stroke and his arms wrap around my entire chair plus my body, dragging me as close I can get, his face burying in my stomach. Pressing there. We remain like this for God knows how long. An hour, maybe more, my fingers trailing up and down his neck, over his shorn black hair, his arms like steel bands around me.

Just as I’m starting to nod off, he picks me up and brings me to his room.

His eyes search mine, desperate, and I nod.

I drift off in his arms, ignoring the fear that I’ve traded one prison for another.

This one, though…I’m not so eager to escape.

And that worries me more than anything.