Page 63 of Mr. Romantic (Mister 2)

“Miss what?”

“Everything that comes after.”

His cock is hard. It hasn’t been hard most of this time we’ve been here. And even though his soft touches in the beginning were very erotic, he hasn’t touched me in hours. I’m not turned on. At all.

I’m scared. He scares me.

“After I scare you with these drawings, Ivy Rockwell, I’m going to tell you something no one else knows and make it all better.”

“I don’t think so, Nolan. I really need to go.”

“Stop,” he says, taking a firm grip on my arm. “Just sit the fuck back and relax. I have five minutes left. Five minutes and I’ll be done.”

I don’t know if I should force my way out of this situation or just give in and wait him out. Not to see if he’s not crazy. This man is definitely crazy. I am convinced Claudette is right.

His kiss on my neck is what makes me wait. His soft lips and words. “Just please,” he says. “I’ve never come this close to spilling my secret before. I’ve never told anyone what happened that night. And you said you wanted to know. You can’t walk out in the middle of the story. It’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair, Nolan. You’re the one who said it.”

“I know,” he says. Still soft, more erotic, very insistent. “I know that. But this could turn into something good. Just… let me finish.”

I give in. He could force me to stay and I don’t want to push him. I’ll leave as soon as he unties me. I’ll make a break for the bathroom, get my phone, call Nora, tell her where I’m at, and then have her call me back saying I’m needed at home. There’s an emergency. Something, anything to get the hell out of this man’s house.

“I don’t think your nickname should be Mr. Romantic.”

He laughs. Like a great, big, ceiling-echoing laugh. “You got that right.”

“What? What do you mean? You said it wasn’t ironic.”

“It’s not, I promise.” He takes my bound wrists in his hands and laughs again. “I swear. Just let me finish. No one ever fucking lets me finish. They see what they want to see and then they walk out. Don’t walk out, Ivy. I’ve got something to show you.”

I sigh, realize I’m not getting out of here, and give in. “OK, fine. Just hurry up, Nolan. I’m hungry. I want to eat. I want a drink of water. I’m uncomfortable—”

“I’m sorry. It’s just this story is longer than most. This is the last drawing, I promise. And then I’ll show you. And tell you. And then you can leave if you want.”

“You promise?” I ask.

“I promise. But you won’t want to leave, Ivy. You won’t. If you do, you’ll miss it.”

“What will I miss?”

“Mr. Romantic, of course.” He smiles and points to the bed. “Get back in position. This is the one where I really need to concentrate. It’s the most important one.”

“Five minutes,” I say, scooting back up to the headboard and putting my bound wrists above my head.

“Turn to the side. And close your eyes. Like you’re sleeping.”

Or dead.

He moves quickly back to his paper and pencil, looking at me, then down at his drawing. His hand making long sweeps on the pad. One hundred percent of his concentration on the image he’s creating.

And before I can even count out five minutes in my head, he says, “Done.” He rips the final piece of paper off the pad and then bends down to pick up the rest of them, arranging them and sorting them into something only he is aware of.

“You’re going to freak out, I already know that. But I just need you to let me tell it from beginning to end before you do that.”

Chapter Twenty-Five - Nolan

I’m scaring the fuck out of her. Have been for hours. But I can’t stop. Not now. Not with her. I don’t why I’m fixated on Ivy Rockwell, but I am.