Ansel sits up suddenly, his legs over the side of the bed as he glares at me. “Why do you care, Brad?”
The false name trips me up. I kind of wish I hadn’t given it to him now. I want to see those pretty lips sayingmyname, no one else’s.
“Because I’m a decent person.” Lies. I’m anything but decent. Mostly unethical, amoral, and, in the bedroom, absolutely filthy. “I’m allowed to care about others.”
“I’m not ‘others,’ I’m your kidnapper. It’s too early for Stockholm syndrome. You can’t give a shit about me. It’s not right.”
“It is if I had the hots for you before following you out of that bar.”
“You were just hoping to get laid.”
“True,” I muse. “And I probably would’ve walked away and never thought of you again. But you know what happened?”
He wants to ask me. I can see it written over every inch of his beautiful face.
I lean forward, trying to get a little closer to him. The knot pulls at my wrists, but I don’t mind. “You somehow suspended me upside down from a tree and knocked me out with my own dagger.”
“See, this is what I mean.” Ansel shoves his hair back again. “That’s supposed to make you want to run in the other direction. There’s something fucking wrong with you, man.”
That has me grinning. He’s right. There’s definitely something wrong with me. A psychiatrist would have a field day with me if I ever decided to attend one of the appointments Wylder has set up for me. Why bother, though? I’m perfectly happy the way I am. There’s a lot wrong with me, but nothing that needs fixing. “Why would I run when that’s the moment you became interesting?”
Ansel’s mouth pops open in a little O. My cock twitches. I’ve been semi-hard since he walked back into the room, but that facial expression? It has all my blood rushing south. I’m picturing him on his knees, his lips exactly like that as I shove my cock between them.
My tongue flicks over my lips as I stir in my seat. The movement snaps Ansel out of his daze. He throws himself back on the bed, rolling over so his back is to me. “It doesn’t matter. Go to sleep.”
I frown. “What, on the chair?”
“Yep.”
“That doesn’t seem fair. That bed is big enough for two.”
Ansel gives an exasperated sigh and rolls to face me. “This is a kidnapping. It’s not supposed to befair.You’re the victim.”
Aw, it’s cute that he thinks that. “Fine. But if we’re still here tomorrow night, I’m in that bed with you.”
His gaze turns weary. “If we’re still here by then, I’ll have much bigger problems than where you’re sleeping.”
“Why? Are you waiting for someone? Does that mean you’re not the one in charge?”
Ansel might think that silence is best, but what he doesn’t realize is that he’s telling me all I need to know by not answering. He is waiting for someone.
And he’s not the one in charge. My butterfly is acting on someone else’s orders.
Ansel twists away. “Rest, Brad. I promise not to kill you in your sleep.”
“Good. If that’s going to happen, I want to be wide awake. Don’t let me miss out on the fun.”
It’s small—a tiny sound. But it rings through me like the loudest bell.
Ansel laughs.
This chair is high on the list of the most uncomfortable places I’ve tried to sleep, but I don’t care. I drift off replaying that sound in my ears.
I can’t wait to hear it again.
4
CADE
