His arm wraps around me from behind, pulling me back against him hard, his hand still working between my thighs. His mouth finds my ear again. “I can feel your heart beating. I can feel you breathing. I know you want this.” His voice breaks slightly on thelast part, in a way I’ve never heard before. “I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.”
I feel that familiar pressure build, that slow climb to the top that he taught me. I start to shake in his arms and he holds me tighter to him, his face buried in my neck, my back against his chest, his finger working me rhythmically, relentlessly. If he keeps this up, I’m going to—
“You’re mine, Sophia. All mine.”
I come apart. Literally break, something cracking open inside me that I didn’t realize had been holding so much back. A sob starts in my chest and explodes out of me as I shake in his arms. He holds me through it, his forehead pressing against the back of my head, his arm locked around me, holding me up as I cry.
When the shaking slows, he kicks the sweatpants out of the way, drops a single kiss on my shoulder, then releases me. The chair scrapes the floor as he sits back at the table behind me.
I start to reach for the sweatpants, but he stops me.
“Do not put those back on.” He nods at the clothes on the floor. “When you’re home, no clothes in the kitchen. You know the rules, Sophia.”
Home.
I pick the clothes up off the floor and don’t answer. He says the word ‘home’ so easily, like it’s true.
But it’s not true. This isn’t my home.Heisn’t my home. Another woman will be in this kitchen, cooking for him, taking care of him, getting fucked by him.
The thought cuts through me like a knife but I let it. I need the reminder. I need my need for him to be cut out like a tumor.
I turn back to his plate, putting the finishing touches on it. I can feel him watching me, but when I turn around, he’s gone.
Sighing, I wrap the plate and put it in the refrigerator, then pull on the discarded sweatpants and t-shirt. For the next few hours, I’m in the kitchen alone, making Vin meals for the next few days. When I’m done, I make the decision to abandon the clothes I wore here and get home as fast as possible.
Once I’m out of the kitchen, I head toward where I think the front door is. This house is cavernous, with too many hallways, and the light is low as the sunlight fades. When I finally find the front door, my shoes and jacket where I left them, two guards step in front of me, blocking my way.
“Excuse me.” I smile politely, but I know before they respond that this isn’t going to go well. “I need to get home.”
The taller one doesn’t move. “Boss says you need to stay home.”
I blink, my smile faltering. “You meangohome. I need togohome.” I say it slowly and clearly. “I’ve done what I came to do.”
The guards glance at each other and one shakes his head. “He was very explicit. You are staying here.”
21
SOPHIE
Though the two guards are enormous, they are not menacing in any way. The taller one with a jaw like a shelf has kind eyes that don’t match the rest of him and he shrugs like he doesn’t know what to say.
“Sorry, miss.”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” I tell him. “You’re doing your job.”
I smile at both of them, and they relax slightly. I’m guessing they usually get a little more pushback than this. What they don’t know is that I’m not done with this conversation.
“Have you eaten?” I ask.
The shorter one is stocky with dark hair and a scar bisecting his left eyebrow. He blinks at me. “Ma’am?”
“Eaten. Food. Has anyone fed you tonight?” I look between them. “You’ve been standing here for what, hours, right?”
They glance at each other.
“Thought so.” I turn around, heading back in the direction I came. “Help me find my way back to the kitchen and I’ll make something for you.”
“Miss, we can’t—”
