I yawn widely and snuggle into Kane’s chest. He’s warm and smells so damn good.
Angelo’s dark eyes follow me as Kane climbs the stairs toward the bedrooms. There are two, I’ve realized. Both small but cozy.
Kane takes me back into the room with the double bed. He tucks me in and closes the drapes.
“Sweet dreams, kitten.” Panic surges through my veins. I don’t want to be alone. What if the men who kidnapped me come back?
“No, can’t you stay?” I hate the way my voice catches at the end. I’m not weak. Hell, I killed a man! The food I ate curdles in my stomach as my brain conjures up the smell of blood, even though there’s not a mark on me anymore.
Kane’s eyes soften. “I can stay.” He lifts the covers and slides into the bed beside me. With him here, the bed isn’t large enough; he’s a big man, and this is a small double at best. But I don’t care. I need to feel safe, and for all his faults, like the time he stuck a hypodermic needle in my neck, he makes me feel safe.
He hooks his arm around me, and I rest my cheek on his chest. I know he won’t let anything happen to me.
It dimly occurs to me to tell him about the man who betrayed them. The guy who ended up shot in the head in the warehouse, but that can wait.
When I wake next, the room is semi-dark. I’ve rolled over at some point and am now facing the window. The drapes are open, and it’s snowing outside. A thick white crust has formed on the windowsill, making me very glad I’m not still out there in the bunny suit.
What happened to the other women?
God.
Kane’s scent has faded, but when I try to move, I realize I’m not alone. There’s a male body wedged in behind me. A hand slides over my hip, and I freeze.
“You’re awake,” a low voice rumbles.Angelo.
I want to shove him away, but I don’t. The why of that isn’t something I examine too closely.
“Where’s Kane?”
“He’s making more food.” Now that he’s said that, I realize I can smell something savory. My stomach rumbles again, even though I ate my body weight in eggs and pancakes earlier.
“What time is it?”
“Late afternoon. You’ve been asleep for nearly twenty-four hours.”
“I have?” He pulls me closer, and I feel a hard length pressing against my ass. Part of me hates that he’s pushing the boundaries between us, but the rest of me is definitely on board.
Except I really need to pee.
“Bathroom, now,” I say while squeezing my thighs together. Sadly, that has the unwelcome effect of putting pressure on other parts of me. I bite back a moan.
Angelo sits up and crawls out of bed. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of sweats, which do nothing to hide the monster erection he has going on.
A polite, well-bred woman would look away, but I’m a red-blooded female, and he’s a tall glass of water in a desert, even if his personality sucks.
He smirks at my shameless ogling but doesn’t comment. It’s not until he scoops me out of bed and strides into the bathroom that my brain fires up.
“Stop! I don’t need help to pee!”
“Calm down, Chiara. You need to rest your ankle, so no walking on it for a few days at least. I’ll have our doctor check it once we get home.”
“It’s fine,” I huff irritably. No worse than the previous time I sprained it, when an asshole drunk shoved me over in a shitty biker bar in New Mexico.
He folds his arms across his chest. “It’s not fine, Chiara! Nothing about this is fine!”
I’m stunned into silence at the rare display of emotion. An emotion other than anger, that is.
“No, it’s not,” I agree as my mind takes a wander down memory lane and I recall the other traumatized women.
