I wake up in the morning to bright light filtering through the poorly fitted slats of wood. I blink blearily. Where the fuck am I? And why the fuck are half my muscles screaming at me?
My attention falls on the man in the bed opposite me, and the memories come flooding back. Ah, yes. I was kidnapped by a butterfly who’s holding me hostage for some unknown purpose.
I hope it’s a while before I find out what it is. I want to stretch this out as long as possible.
I rotate my shoulders as much as I can in my bindings. Fuck. I’ve never been restrained for this long before. Usually, I just wait until my victim, who’s made the mistake of fucking with me, turns his back before freeing myself. Even if I were somehow trapped in a way that prevented me from doing so, it wouldn’t matter. Not when I could count on my brothers coming in to liberate me.
That won’t happen this time, thank fuck. It’d ruin all my plans. Plans involving trying to win Ansel over. To figure out what makes him tick. To persuade him to touch me somewhere. Anywhere. Maybe hurt me a little.
I’ll take whatever I can get.
I study Ansel in the morning sunlight. He looks even younger insleep, all of the stress he wore the night before long gone. His cheek rests on one of his hands. With his blond hair falling around his face, he doesn’t look like a butterfly.
He looks like an angel. One I want to lead astray and defile.
I want to get closer to him. He’s too far away. But when I shuffle the chair forward, there’s a loud screeching noise.
Ansel’s eyes fly open. He glances around, as bewildered as I was a few moments ago. When he spots me, I don’t think he feels the same warm, fuzzy feelings I experienced.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “It wasn’t a dream.”
“Sorry, butterfly,” I say chirpily. “I’m as real as can be.”
“And as annoying.”
I tut. “Shouldn’t you be more cheerful? You had a bed to sleep in, after all.”
He lowers his hands to glare at me. “Shouldn’t you be more grumpy since you slept in a chair?”
I shrug, ignoring the protest my shoulders give at the movement. “Nah. I’ve always been a morning person. And an evening person, for that matter. I’m just cheerful.”
Ansel stands and stretches. I watch the tiny strip that appears beneath his shirt like a predator. “If I hadn’t already decided you’re fucked up, this would’ve done it for me.”
I’m too busy ogling his lean body to come up with a response. It’s much brighter now than it was in the bar. I’m able to see every delicious inch of him now.
Well, noteveryinch, but give me time. I’ll get there. I’ll strip him out of his clothes soon enough, revealing those colorful wings in all their glory.
He vanishes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. I hear him use the toilet and brush his teeth before stepping into the shower.
That’s interesting. Ansel obviously must’ve brought some toiletries with him. At the very least, he brought his toothbrush.
It tells me two things.
First, Ansel either has been here before or he had supplies in his car.
Second, he’s prepared to be here for a while. Whoever is coming for me isn’t due just yet.
Excellent.
I watch the bathroom door like a hawk. Hopefully, Ansel will come out in a towel with steam billowing around him. I can picture how the water will roll down his chest?—
But then the door opens and the illusion is shattered. Ansel clearly dressed in the bathroom. Gone is the sexy outfit he had on at the bar, replaced with skinny jeans and a graphic tee with the wordsCutie with a Rootieon it.
Hm, so he’s into computers, hacking maybe. Very intriguing.
I have to admit, the outfit suits him. He looks…cute. Grounded. Like this is what he’s most comfortable in.
He spots me staring and immediately starts to fidget. “Um, I guess you need to use the bathroom?”
