As I tested out how she handled being under my direct scrutiny, curious if she’d speak first under the pressure of silence, Iwatched her open and close her mouth. Just once. Otherwise, she didn’t react.
“Well, now that I’ve got you, here, little agent, maybe you should start by explaining your interest in me.”
Nothing.
I stared and waited some more. And she didn’t crack.
Hmm. Interesting.
“Nothing to say, little agent?”
She tipped her chin up.
Ah. I see how it is.
I could respect her strong start. She’d be tough. She’d fight back with silence. But it wasn’t going to get her free.
“All right.” I stood. “I suppose we can try this again later.”
She didn’t protest or make a sound as I got up and left her there.
An hour later, I returned to give her food.
“How about now, little agent?” I asked. “What’s with your interest in me?”
Nothing.
It became a pattern. Rinse and repeat.
For a few days, it was nothing more than that. I’d come to bring her water or food. That or to untie her ankles so she could walk to the bathroom and relieve herself with her hands still bound before I’d guide her back to the chair and secure her again.
She didn’t speak at all, clearly hanging on to this idea that refusing to answer me would net her a favor.
It didn’t.
However, I did succumb that much further into addiction. For her. In wanting her. Because fuck, meeting a strong woman like this wasn’t something that happened often in my life. Usually, I deflected and avoided the law. This one, though, had become the object of my fascination.
If I were in her position, I’d be cool and silent, too. I’d play it just like she was, not giving anything away. At all.
Yet, the more I watched her and noticed her, the harder I fell into wishing she’d just fucking crack already.
The longer I stared at her generous tits, those curves at her small waist, her athletic arms and legs, I struggled to keep my head in the game of slowly interrogating her.
She had to break. Sooner or later, I would guarantee it.
On the fifth day of her being tied up and captive in this Mexican safehouse Simon had found for me in the jungle, rain battered the rooftop. The deluge didn’t lessen the humidity one bit. What it did do was leak inside.
A small hole in the roof gave way, and by a stroke of pure luck on my part, the steady trickle of water splashed right down onto her head.
When I came back to lead her to the bathroom for a break and also to bring her water again, I found her staring dully again, one eye squinting closed more than the other as she tried not to let the rain in it.
“What a tragedy, little agent.” I crouched to untie her ankles. “You’re all wet.”
With how I was down on my haunches, crouching right in front of her and between her legs, my comment could’ve had a very different meaning. All that stood between my face and her pussy were mere inches. I’d only have to duck down, and I could see if she was wet likethat.
Even though the double innuendo wasn’t overly emphasized, I saw the instant that it clicked in her head. Glaring that much hotter, she gave me a look that could kill.
Fuck me. She’s all sass and fire. Stubborn and strong.
