I shrug. “I suppose I am. I’ve never… I’ve never met someone like you before.”
She lifts a brow. “Perhaps that’s a good thing, Emery Jones. It means you live a normal life. And despite what people may say, normal is not bad.”
I swallow. “But I’m not normal, am I? If I were normal, then we wouldn’t have met in the park that day. Normal people don’t hire hackers to break into their company’s secured servers.”
Toni narrows her eyes. “Did you ever find what you were looking for?”
“No,” I lie. “I’m also left in the dark.” I glance toward the exit door. “Just like you.”
Toni stares at me, her gaze so deep and eerily soulful that a shiver zaps my spine. Toni hisses under her breath and stands up. “You need to stay warm.” She walks over to a stand-alone wardrobe and retrieves a blanket and a large jacket. She hesitates for a moment, staring into the wardrobe, and then pulls a small jar off the shelf before she strides toward me. “Rub this on your chest.”
I rein in a rush of excitement. While under normal circumstances, medicinal ointment isn’t very sexy, tonight…it might just be the perfect aphrodisiac.
But…if I ask Toni to rub it on me, that would be way too obvious. I’ll have to do it myself. And give her a hell of a show. With a small, meek nod, my eyes meet Toni's, and I take the jar from her hand. Her jaw tightens as soon as our fingers touch.
With deliberate slowness, I open the jar and dip two fingers inside, deciding to test just how easily she’ll bite the bait. My gaze remains locked with Toni's as I stretch the neckline of the T-shirt, revealing skin, my chest rising with anticipation. If she looks away, my plan might not work. But if she stares, if she watches, then I might win after all.
Much to my satisfaction, Toni's eyes follow my movements, and there’s an undeniable shift in her posture. I swirl my fingers in the minty smooth ointment, and sensually spread the gel over my chest. The cold draft collides with the peppermint, and I release a barely audible moan. She hears it, though. Of course, she does. It was tailored to her ears.
Silence falls over the room, and all I can hear is Toni's breath catching. I continue the slow, careful circles, my skin tingling under the touch of my own hand. I take my time, ensuring every inch of my skin is lathered and covered. My nipples harden, and if Toni stares any harder at my breasts, my shirt might catch fire. But I’m not the one that’s going to be burned.
I close my eyes, and continue luring her into my trap.
I’m not the moth.
She is.
When I open my eyes, Toni's gaze is locked on me, an intensity, a hunger, that I haven’t seen before. I stifle a wide smile, playing my part perfectly, innocently, as if I could do no wrong. Whatever lines were drawn between us, between captor and hostage, are blurring. Day by day. Hour by fucking hour. It’s perfect. The rules are shifting. Changing. Leaning away from hostility and toward her need to swallow me whole. Little does she know I’m a poison.
But no one expects poison to taste so good.
I place the jar to the side, my chest glistening. Every one of her muscles is tense, strained, almost as if she’s fighting againstthe desire to lurch toward me and attack me like a vicious beast. Feigning ignorance, I lower the T-shirt and blink up at her.
“Should we do my back?” I ask, breathy and knowing.
Her jaw ticks, but without a word, Toni reluctantly agrees. “Turn around.”
Come to me, my little moth.
Silently, I comply, lifting the T-shirt over my head. I sense Toni's hesitation. A moment passes before her palm makes contact between my shoulder blades. An involuntarily gasp escapes my throat. Mmm. She has nice hands.
I lean into her touch, a calculated move to draw her further into my web. Toni's hands move with a certain stiffness. She’s uncomfortable. We can’t have that. Harder. I need to try harder.
With every touch, I expel soft moans as if I’m under her spell. Each sound is carefully crafted to entice her, to create a connection. To show her that she means something. Thatthismeans something. Because it does—my survival.
"You're really good with your hands," I whisper, low and suggestive. Toni stiffens. I ignore her hesitation. The show must go on. The showwillgo on. "In another life, you could have been a masseuse."
The silence in the basement is damn near deafening, and I rein in a satisfied smirk. I’ve got her right where I want her—uncertain, frustrated, confused. And Iwanther to be confused. I want roles and expectations to become fluid, shift and morph into pieces of my brilliant plan in action. A plan that seems to be working. A plan thatmustwork.
Toni continues to massage the gel into my skin, her touch becoming less rigid as if she's succumbing to the inevitable. I let out another soft moan, this time more genuine. Raw.
“You need to stop making those little noises, bella,” Toni grunts.
She can’t see it but I smile. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “It’s just… It’s nice to be touched. Down here… I feel so alone sometimes.” I crane my neck over my shoulder. “I know it’s silly, ‘cause it’s you but…” I swallow “In moments like this, I don’t feel as scared as I should be.”
Toni frowns. “You have no reason to be scared, Emery Jones. Once we are paid, you will be free. You will continue to live your very normal life. I will not hurt you.”
I contain my own confusion, not letting it seep into my facial expressions. If she’s lying, I can’t tell. Everything in her tone indicates that she’s being honest, that she doesn’t have plans to hurt me, to kill me. Maybe she doesn’t know. Maybe Simone hasn’t been entirely truthful with her plan. Objectively, killing me would make the most sense. I’m a witness. I know their names. I know what they look like. As long as I’m alive, they’ll always be on edge.
