Prisoner Mine (5 page)

“What—”

“Don’t,” he bit.

Yeah, the barely-hinged rage in his voice told her all she needed to know, and it shot a fresh chill through her bones.

He carried her upstairs into another large room without sparing her another glance. Greer waffled between wanting to hide her face in his shirt and wanting to toss herself to the floor. She settled on accepting the ride. She looked straight ahead, trying not to show too much interest in the surroundings, and not meeting his gaze again.

They passed a well-worn oak desk at the top of the stairs and curiosity won out. Maps, a ruler, and an assortment of pens and markers littered the top. Across from it a king size mattress lay on a bare frame, its headboard the unpainted barn slats that blocked the midmorning sun. Tousled sheets hung off the far side, held up from the floor by a closed laptop in the center of the bed.

Light shone from three windows, one on the rear wall at the top of the stairs near the desk. The largest one had once been loft doors in between the desk and bed. A long rectangular window had been cut out over the small corner kitchen. Zach strode past a small dining table so unblemished and gleaming that it had likely never been used.

Zach aimed for a large rectangular partition at the end of the room bound by the railing on one side and a refrigerator on the other. He sidled sideways into the faintly lit box and bent. Greer’s bottom and legs landed on terry cloth. His arms slid from her body, taking his heat with him.

She hugged her arms around her bent knees and held her breath. Less than a second later the flip of a switch accompanied light from a rustic silver fixture over a small sink. He stepped around her in the center of the floor. In order to follow his movements, she released her death grip and turned her head.

The shower curtain sang under Zach’s hand. He scooted it all the way to the side and reached for the faucet. She thought he’d been searching for towels or something, but he looked ready to settle in to her bathing routine.

When he turned and reached for her the twine holding her heart in place snapped and the thudding organ dropped into her stomach. Acid splashed up, stinging her throat.

“I can clean myself.”

Zach hoisted her off the floor like he had before, like a toddler incapable of bathing herself. He ignored her completely, his gaze on the open lid of the toilet. One step in that direction and instinct took over.

Greer struck at his exposed throat. Normally the move took a hundredth of a second at this proximity and inflicted maximum damage. Now her strike played out in slow motion, taking an eternity to leave his bicep where she’d held on for dear life.

Inches from her mark Zach’s thumb pressed the pliable skin between her thumb and forefinger. His other fingers locked around her palm and twisted. Without his body holding hers up gravity sucked her down. Her knees hit the ground with a resounding crack. A cry shot from her lips. Her arms flailed in a feeble attempt to catch herself. The vice grip on her hand kept her from cracking her head on the toilet.

“God damn it." Zach snatched her off the ground in one arm and glowered. His gray eyes sparked. It was the first emotion she’d ever seen in them. “I’ve already seen you naked. Multiple times. Get over yourself. I’m not some barely-strung beast who’s going to rip away your virginity.”

Greer’s mouth moved, but no words came out. For a minute she just stared at him in disbelief. No one knew she was a virgin. It wasn’t something she talked about, and since she hadn’t dated ever and quickly neared spinster territory she might never have to.

“How do you know I’m a…” She couldn’t even say it.

One of his brows lifted. “Your price and white gown gave it away.”

She remembered very little past the first day at the compound. The bits she did remember were blurry and disjointed, until Zach had appeared and given her hope.

“How did they know?” She breathed the word so quietly it sounded to her own ears like she really didn’t want to know the answer.

Just like that the spark vanished. The cold curtain swung into place. “It’s probably best you don’t remember.”

A thought struck her hard and fast. He’d said
price
. Her price had been high. He was a mercenary. So was she. Thanks to her daddy-issues. She had a savings account, but nowhere near the amount of money she’d seen some of the men throw around for the used girls that first night.

Greer gripped his forearms because if she didn’t she’d fall on her face. And stupidly she needed his strength to be able to look him in the eye.

“You bought me to…to sate your—” a sob broke her sentence, but its message had been received. The spark returned and ignited into an all-out flame.

“If I wanted you, I could’ve had you for the cost of a condom six months ago.”

She shoved at his arms, but he didn’t budge. God, she hated being incapable of defending herself, incapable of caring for herself. She hated even more that he might be right. If he’d shown the least interest in her, what would she have done? His distant, occasional glances had been enough to reel her in to fantasies she’d only given life to in the depths of her psyche.

Rage bubbled. “Fuck you, Saulter.”

“I should’ve left your ass there. Would’ve made my life easier.”

Greer wanted to turn away and cower into a ball. This man took rejection to a whole new level. It hurt almost as much as detox. She forced herself to look into his antagonism. Beyond the anger, behind the steel cage of his muscles and the concrete wall of his demeanor, she caught a glimpse of suffering. It hung in the funny crook of his lips and in the strain of his jaw.

She swallowed her pride—the little bit that endured—and tried not to gag. Her grip eased. She quit fighting. Lord knew she didn’t have the energy for it.

“I’m sorry.”

For the first time in the nearly seven months she’d interacted with him in one capacity or another, Zach Saulter’s hard gaze retreated.

“Are you going to let me help without a trip to the theatre? I don’t care for drama.” The vibrato of his voice rolled across her neck, leaving gooseflesh in its wake.

“Yes.”

Zach exhaled long and low. He cinched one arm around her, glared somewhere over her shoulder, and bent. His fingers brushed her hip. He hooked the band of the briefs and tugged one side and then the other over her bottom before shoving them to the floor. Next he looped his free arm under the shirt. The hair on his arm tickled her back as he moved it into place and tightened his hold. He slipped his other hand under the front of the loose fabric and pulled it up to her arm.

Greer used every bit of energy to wrestle her arms through the sleeves. The shirt pooled around her neck. Zach grabbed the back and pulled it over her head. He undressed her with moves so clinical a nun would applaud.

Even with her breasts pressed and jostling against his abdomen he didn’t react. He walked her backward and set her on the toilet. She’d never peed in front of a man before. Doing it in front of Zach twisted her stomach in an ugly bow, but what did it matter. He turned to the shower and adjusted the temperature, caring about her nudity as much as he cared about fashion magazines.

She took care of her business as quickly as she could, and then used the edge of the sink to stand, close the lid, and flush. A tiny part of her hoped he’d show some reaction to her standing on her own, the tiniest bit of encouragement for the effort she expended.

He wiped his palms across the seat of his jeans and straightened. His wet hands left a damp trail over his muscled ass. When Zach turned he pulled up short for a half a second before he rushed forward.

“Are you determined to scramble your brains?”

“What?” Greer hardly had enough time to get the word out before he scooped her post-wedding style into his arms.

“Your legs look as sturdy as a runway model’s on ten inch heels.”

A laugh closer to hysteria than humor shot like projectile vomit from her lips. There was nothing she could do to stop it.

Zach paused at the edge of the full tub. His chin dropped and he met her half-closed gaze. “What’s so funny?”

“How would a guy like you know about heels and runway models?” She guffawed the words in between desperate breaths.

“A guy like me?”

“Macho, punch-you-in-the-face-as-soon-as-talk-to-you kind of guy.”

From this close, with this inquisitive look on his gorgeous face, he didn’t appear as old as she’d once thought. Not that she’d thought him old per se, but mid-thirties for sure. But when he lost the commander-of-the-universe bravado the years fell away, revealing a mid-twenties glow.

His eyes rolled skyward, causing her laughter to pitch as high. He eased her into the steaming hot bath. The heat melted her muscles in the best way. It stripped the last of her bluster with it and her laughter dissolved into sobs. She covered her face with her hands and waited for him to stand and go. He didn’t. The hand Zach looped under her legs receded from the water, but the hand at her back stayed. Eventually her cries crescendoed, dwindled, and then eased all together.

“Lean back.” His hand cupped the back of her neck.

Greer dropped her hands into the water and looked a question at him.

“I’m going to wash your hair so you don’t drown yourself trying to do it, and then I’ll leave.”

Maybe it was exhaustion or the rawness of her pride, but Greer let go. Zach guided her back. The water eased up her neck and around her skull. When the water enveloped her ears her brain went silent. Her eyes closed. All the questions fell away. The pain ebbed. Her emotions calmed.

Zach gently brushed the loose strands from around her face. He skimmed the tips of her long hair, creating eddies in the water that caressed her shoulders. Tension grew in his hand and he lifted her to sit. She almost whimpered. Water sluiced off her in a cacophony.

Greer opened her eyes. Hands she’d seen down a drunk Russian three times his size, and then toss the lug out on his ass, poured a quarter-size dollop of shampoo in the center of one palm before rubbing them together. Calluses scratched like sandpaper, but bubbles oozed out from between thick fingers.

He started on the surface, gliding the minty cleanser from root to tip. Then he delved deeper. The tips of his fingers worked the sensitive skin atop her head. Greer’s mouth dropped open. He seduced her with heavy circular strokes around her temples and easing toward the crown. Her breaths rasped across her lips. His fingers reached the base of her skull and a quiet moan shattered the silence.

Her body flushed with embarrassment and something richer and darker. To Zach’s credit he didn’t stop. Shamelessly she pressed into his touch. Her breaths came deeper, more punctuated. His right hand slid up the back of her neck, and then down her pony tail. He gathered it up and massaged it into the rest of her hair.

When her head dropped forward she saw the erect tips of her rosy pink nipples dipping into the water. Greer clamped her mouth shut tight to keep in the exclamation. The embarrassment had to show on her face. Her cheeks heated ten degrees.

Zach eased her back toward the water. Greer clamped her eyes shut. The last thing she needed to see was him noticing her arousal. He’d go back to hating her and treating her like crap on the tip of his boot. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything or try to drown her. In short order he rinsed away the shampoo and set her up again.

She expected him to leave then, held her breath for it to happen, but he reached for a bottle of conditioner. Her lady parts pulsed with excitement while the rational parts of her shrieked in fear.

“You know about conditioner too,” she blurted.

“And moisturizer. And panty lines. And periods.” His fingers dove into her hair again. “I have an older sister.”

“Oh.” It wasn’t eloquent, but it was all she could manage under the assault.

“I know about razors and shaving cream too. If you want to shave and can do it without slitting anything, there they are.” He pointed to a small shelf next to the head of the tub.

“Oh,” again was all she could muster.

“She read fashion magazines she swiped from offices and used them to teach me to read.”

Half of Greer’s brain cells had been fried in the brew of chemicals the Stas had forced on her. The other half drooled on themselves thanks to Zach’s decisive fingers. Even still, one of them—or maybe a few held hands, joining forces to understand a bit of the enigma that was Zach Saulter—caught the unspoken hints he’d thrown. Zach hadn’t had enough money for proper books and his parents hadn’t cared enough to teach him how to read. If that didn’t explain a thing or two, Greer didn’t know what would.

All too soon he laid her back into the water. Greer mustered up the courage to look at him. He studied her hair, not her boobs. Stubble covered his proud jaw. Small specks of water ran a path from his sleeve end to his shoulder. The splash saturated the fabric, darkening a dozen tiny circles of the gray blue shirt.

His earlier words haunted her.
If I wanted you, I could’ve had you for the cost of a condom six months ago
. He didn’t want her. She should’ve been relieved. Again that empty feeling nestled in between her rib cage damn near her heart.

In the past men wanted her, especially since she wasn’t easily had. She’d been so hell bent on her career, and simultaneously terrified of getting pregnant or contracting an STD, that she hadn’t given them much thought. When she watched her friends’ relationships and marriages splinter and crumble she patted herself on the back for dodging the bullets. Why have a man when you can have dildos in every shape, size, and speed setting?

As though his mind followed her naughty path his lips pressed together. A hint of a smile curved one of his lips.

“When I was older I used them for different things.” He said it so quietly had she not been watching his mouth she’d have missed it completely.

Greer swallowed. Part of her wished she had missed it.

He set her up and handed over a bar of soap and a rag.

“I’ll come get you in a few. Don’t drown.” Zach moved to the door, snagging her soiled clothes off the floor, without a sideways glance at tits nor twat. He drew the door behind him, but stopped with it a few inches from the frame. His gaze swept her top to bottom.