21
Ava
Idon’t know how much time has passed from the moment Logan left, but I’m in some kind of special version of hell right now. His distance is physically painful to me in a way I never thought possible, and the feeling that I’m being burned to a crisp from the inside out has taken over my body completely. I can’t think beyond the need to be fucked and the need for Logan to touch me. Which is funny; I wouldn’t have thought I was the kind of girl who goes stupid over a man. And yet here I am.
Despite many attempts that ended in failure, I try to pull my hands out of the rope again as forcefully as I can. But I only manage to make my headache worse and the rope tear into the raw skin of my wrists viciously as I dangle like a fish from a hook.
“Motherfucker!” I scream in frustration as tears stream downmy face, mixing with the beads of sweat. I feel disgusting, and my bladder is so full that it’s going to explode any minute now. I could just pee myself. I mean, what’s one more humiliating thing to add to the list, right? I bet he won’t even be able to tell with the sweat puddle at my feet.
“Pinche pendejo de mierda,” I mumble under my breath.
“I think I like oaf more,” Logan says with a sheepish smile as he descends the stairs in a hurry, holding a bottle of water. My heart, the traitorous bitch, does a somersault at the sight of him.
“What do you want?” I seethe.
He doesn’t say anything as he stalks toward me with long strides. He stops a couple inches away, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, his eyebrows furrow, and something flashes in his eyes. It almost looks like regret. Ha, what a joke. I’m pretty sure he is a psychopath.
“Here, I brought you some water.” He uncaps the bottle and lifts it to my mouth, but I press my lips together, refusing to drink.
“How do I know it’s not poisoned?” I ask in a clipped tone.
“It’s not poisoned,” he sighs.
I huff. “Yeah, sure. Like I’m gonna take your word for it,cabron.”
Logan rolls his eyes at me and takes a big swig. When he brings the bottle to my lips the second time, I gulp the water greedily. He discards the empty bottle on the scruffy oak table and turns back to me, eyebrows pinched. Taking a step closer, he extends his hand toward the side of my face as if he wants to brush his knuckles over my cheek, but I jerk my head and pull back as much as my position allows me.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I snap, but my whole body is vibrating with the need to feel his skin against mine.
“I’m so sorry, Ava,” he says so softly I almost think I imagined it. Then he starts untying the rope around my wrists.
“What’s happening?” I ask, bewildered. And then every kidnapper movie I’ve ever seen flashes through my mind, and I’m suddenly sure he’s about to kill me.
Before I fall to the cement floor, he catches me in his arms, and the contact with his hard body sends me into a frenzy, making me moan. Jesus, I’m about to be brutally murdered, but instead you would think I’m the horniest person on planet Earth with the sounds I’m making. Well, it kind of feels like I am. He sweeps me up like a bride, with his forearm supporting the back of my knees and the other my back.
“Let me go!” I demand and push at his chest. “I don’t want you near me.”
“Stop struggling. I can’t let you go. If I do, you won’t be able to stand in the state you’re in. Just let me bring you somewhere where you can sit first.”
My eyebrows knit in confusion. “Why are you being nice to me all of a sudden? What changed?” A thousand needles prick my arms and fingers as the blood starts circulating again in my extremities.
“Everything,” he answers cryptically, climbing the stairs with me in his arms.
Just the fact that he’s holding me to his chest alleviates somewhat the scorching need that’s taken over my body completely, and I don’t even feel bad that I’m drenching his clothes with my sweat. My head rests over his chest, and my nose presses, on its own accord, to his skin. Closing my eyes, I inhale his delicious, woodsy, spicy scent. Why does he have to smell so good, dammit? I desperately want to hate him, but I can’t. Somehow, there’s something inside of me that wants him beyond everything that he has done to me.
Logan opens the door at the top of the stairs and steps into a mountain cabin with high beams, wood-paneled walls, and a lit stone fireplace. It’s almost idyllic. You know, if he didn’t kidnapme and tie me up in the basement like a serial killer.
“Can you bring me to a bathroom, please? I need to pee,” I say and try to hold it in a bit longer.
He cuts through the open space, bypasses the living room with the incredible wall made only out of floor-to-ceiling windows with a spectacular view of the snow-capped mountain peaks, and enters a bathroom. He places me on a toilet but doesn’t leave; he just stares at me with a weird look on his face.
“I need some privacy,” I tell him, and he snaps out of it, leaving me alone in the room with a “sorry” mumbled under his breath. When I finally start peeing, I feel so relieved I almost burst into tears. I need to come up with some sort of an escape plan, but my body is weakened by the fever, and I’m so freakin’ turned on, I don’t know how I’ll manage that. I feel like I can’t even stand on my own legs.
And besides, there’s a blizzard outside. I saw it briefly through the floor-to-ceiling windows. And let’s not forget about the fact that I’m still naked. If I somehow manage to jump out a window, I’m not surviving ten minutes in that snow.
A knock on the door pulls me out of my thoughts. “Done?”
“Yeah,” I respond, and a wave of scorching heat hits me hard, making me double over. I think I lose consciousness for a few moments.
