Willing Captive (11 page)

…
But we like them!

My face falls and I
mutter, “Books.”

Nox finally lets me
free of his clutches and I fight hard not to make a mew or pout
from the loss. He says, “What now?”

Heartbreak fills my
chest as I explain while sulking, “Books. I didn’t take any books.
Now I have no books.”

Every single night
at the safe house I’d read before I went to sleep. Nox knows this
as he’s been watching me sleep almost every night. The library had
become an escape for me. Whenever I went missing, the guys knew
where I’d be hiding.

Keeping my eyes to the floor, a large hand squeezes my
shoulder, and although it doesn’t make me feel better, it makes
me
feel
better. A
little.

Something hard is pushed into my chest and I hold it tight
before it falls. Looking down, I gasp when I see not one but two
hardcover novels in my grasp.

Disbelief. Total and
utter disbelief.

Looking up, I find Nox watching me curiously. I stutter, “H-
h- how did you-
why
did you-
I mean it’s not that I’m not thankful, but did- did you know this
would happen?”

Sitting on the bed
in front of me, he rests his elbows on his knees and links his
fingers together. “Didn’t know. But you never know. This shit
happens. I’m normally prepared. Wasn’t this time. Sucks for you,
princess, because now you got no clothes and we’re in the middle of
Bumfuck, Idaho. Next mall is approximately four hours away. Good
news is, I got clothes you can wear. Bad news, got no underwear in
your size. My shirts are big so they’ll be more like dresses on
you.” He makes a face. “My pants. Hell no. Won’t fit, so don’t even
try. My boxers you can maybe wear as shorts. They’ll be loose as
hell but we’ll improvise.”

Half way through him
saying this, my neck got hot and scratchy. The flush reaching all
the way up to my scalp.

No clothes. No
underwear. For how long?

Swallowing hard, my
voice croaks when I ask, “How long for?”

Holding my eyes, he
replies, “Three, four days. Unclear.”

Well, that’s just
freakin’ dandy!

No
clothes. And the workout clothes I’m wearing are stanky. And I
mean
stanky
. As
in,
block your
nose ‘cause the body odors a-comin’
stanky.

Something soft is
thrown at my face. I snatch the offending softness off my head to
find it’s one of Nox’s tees. It’s dark green, extra-large and says
ARMY on the front. He utters, “Wear that over the bra thingy and
let’s get somethin’ to eat at the diner downstairs.”

Suddenly
self-conscious and moving from foot to foot, I tell him, “I smell
really bad, though.”

Walking over to his
bag (where the hell did he get a bag from?) he shuffles things
around before walking over to me with a can of deodorant. He says,
“Ain’t flowery and you’ll smell like me, but it’ll do the
trick.”

You’ll smell like me.
Yes please! Spraying
myself quickly and thoroughly, I throw the can on the bed and walk
out the door. As soon as we’re out, Nox closes the door and pulls
me close to him. He does this so quickly that I stumble and wrap my
arm around his waist for support. Planting a kiss to my temple, he
whispers, “We’re newlyweds, remember? When we’re out, always be
touchin’ me, holdin’ hands, or some sappy shit like that.” Spying
my glare, he says through a forced smile, “Smile for fuck sake.
You’re married to me. Happiest day of your life and all
that.”

Pinching his waist,
hard, I smile, “Oh, honey. The happiest day of my life will be the
day I never have to see you again.”

His eyes darken
through his smile, he leans forward until we’re nose to nose.
Splaying his large hands on my hips, he pulls my body close until
we’re flush against each other.

Shit! This is quite
possibly one of my fantasies coming to life.

His mouth
, a
hairs-breadth away from mine. His breath warms my lips when he
utters, “Ditto.”

Ugh! Jackass!

Rolling my eyes, he
laughs through his nose and says something that I hadn’t thought
about. “C’mon, princess. I’m sure you’ve been dying to get out of
the house, right? Take advantage of this time while you’ve got
it.”

Side-eyeing him, I
ask, “Princess my new nickname?”

I see him purse his
lips in my peripheral vision. “Not new. Always been one of the
Flynn princesses.”

Oh, I get it. “So
not really a nickname. More of an insult.”

The corner of his
lip lifts, but he doesn’t say a thing. Moron.

We reach the diner
looking like a newlywed couple. Smiles, hugs, and happy. No one
would guess we’re sweaty, hot, and tired. When I try to sit at the
booth, I almost get whiplash when Nox pulls me into the same side
as him. Close. The waitress comes over wearing a knowing smile.
Before she gets to us, I pinch his thigh and hiss through a fake
smile, “Would you stop doing that?”

He places his lips
at the shell of my ear and whispers, “You keep pinching me and I
might just pinch you somewhere you don’t want to be pinched,
baby.”

Well…

That certainly shut
me up.

The pretty
middle-aged waitress reaches our table and asks, “Are you the
newlyweds?”

What the-

Obviously having
seen the uncertain look on my face, she laughs sweetly, “Oh,
darlin’, this is a small town. Everyone knows everything about
everyone.”

Nox pastes on a
brilliant smile and holds his hand out, “We sure are. I’m Hank.” He
points a thumb over at me. “And this is Maude.”

Hank… and Maude?

Still shaking Nox’s
hand, she looks over at me, smiling in acknowledgement.

But I’m still stuck on
Hank.
And
Maude
.

Nox finally lets her
hand go and she flushes while giggling to me, “Oh, darlin’, if I
had me a man as strong and big as he is, I’d never let him go.”

And I just can’t help myself. Wearing a look of utter
disappointment, I say dejectedly, “Yeah, you’d think he’d be big
all over, but…” I fade out while my eyes drift down to his
crotch
, leaving her to finish that sentence in
her mind. When her smile fades a little, I fight the urge to stick
my tongue out at Nox.

My body jerks and my
knees bang on the table hard, forcing the cutlery to bounce all
over. Suddenly, my butt is throbbing.

The jackass pinched
my ass!

Nox forces out a
laugh, “Oh, don’t worry about Maude. She’s a joker. It’s what I
love about her.”

Looking a little
uncomfortable, the waitress hands us our menus and we order. Our
meals come in record time and I have to admit, I didn’t realize I
was hungry until the smell of bacon wafted up into my nose. The
first bite confirms it. I’m starved.

Nox watches me eat
and a look of disbelief crosses his features when I finish my plate
of eggs, bacon, toast, and pan-fried tomatoes. When I see he’s
stopped eating and watching me, I ask, “You gonna eat your
pancakes?”

His brows rise, his
lip twitches, and without a word, he moves his plate forward.

I douse the pancakes
in butter and syrup, licking my lips all the while, then wolf them
down. Nox asks in wonderment, “Where the hell does it all go?”

Still chewing, I speak around my food so my reply comes out
garbled, “Dad says we have hollow legs.”

Shaking his head, he
pushes my orange juice forward and I down it in one hit.

That was a great
brunch. I know I look pregnant now, but…so worth it.

Nox flags down our
sweet waitress and asks slyly, “Do you think you could organize for
a platter of sandwiches to be made up?” He smiles a dirty smile.
“We may not want to leave our room later on.” Then the ass
winks.

Our waitress, clearly smitten with
Hank
, giggles all the way back to the kitchen after
confirming this was more than okay.

On her return, Nox
pays for our brunch, our sandwich platter, and leaves a very nice
tip; then he takes my hand, links our fingers, and we walk back to
the motel room. Well, Nox drags me along. I’m having difficulty
walking (and breathing) because I was such a fatty-fat-fat at the
diner. Nox lifts me bridal-style and carries me. Normally, this
would bother me.

Today? Not so
much.

I’m so tired that
I’m tempted to cross my arms behind my head, kick back, and relax.
Fumbling with me and the key, Nox manages to open the door, no
thanks to me, and just as I sigh peacefully from the enjoyment of
my ride, he throws me onto the bed.

I jerk and bounce so
ungracefully that my hair thrashes about, then falls over my eyes.
Currently blinded by my thick locks, I throw both my hands up in
the air, flipping him the bird. He laughs to himself as I hear the
bathroom door close.

I yell out, “Can I
grab some clothes out of the bag?”

Nox replies, “Yeah.”
A second passes before he adds, “Don’t touch anything else.”

Which makes me
wonder what else is in there to touch.

Sliding my body off
the bed like an overweight slug, I crawl to the bag in the corner
of the room. I try lifting it but it’s heavy, so I do what any
other lazy person would do. I tip it upside-down and the contents
spill out all over the place.

The sound of the
shower starting alerts me to the fact that I only have a few
minutes to snoop through Nox’s things. Quick as I can, I spread it
all out and look down wide-eyed in wonder.

How the hell did all
this fit into that small bag?

There’s
approximately five sets of Nox’s man clothes, deodorant, new
toothbrushes and toothpaste (thank God), rope, that damn blindfold,
which I shove in my pocket, something that looks like a mini
electronic tablet, USB sticks, ski masks, the shiny black cell
phone I talked to my dad on, and my eyes widen even more when I
spot the collection of switchblades.

Picking up the
largest one and opening it, I press my finger to the blade lightly.
It’s about eight inches long including the handle, and sharp as
hell. I don’t need to press any further to know this thing would
surely take off my finger if I tried to push any further. It looks
like a hunting knife. The blade is shiny and curved, the sharp tip
on an angle.

Running my hand down
the back of the blade, Nox says in eerie calm, “What you got there?
Not planning to take me out, are ya, princess?”

Eyes still trained
on the blade, I whisper, “I want you to teach me how to use
this.”

His rumbling
laughter fills the room. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Eyes pleading, I
snap my head up to beg when I see Nox.

Nox in a towel.

Nox in a towel
stalking towards me.

His frame is so big
that he can’t even wrap the small towel around his waist, he grips
the edges shut with a large hand. With every step he takes, I see
more of his muscular thigh. His short hair dark as night, and his
body glistens with drops of heavenly dew.

Sweet baby Jesus. Is
it hot in here?

I’m burning up. My
heart rate escalates. Once he reaches me, he bends down to collect
a new set of clothes and snatches the knife out of my hand. He’s so
quick with his hands that he has the knife shut and back in its
place within a second.

I’m still staring at
his thigh when Nox utters, “Think you oughta turn around if my
nudity offends you.” Then he walks over to the bed and drops the
towel. And there’s Nox in all his naked glory. Too bad his back’s
to me. I’d kill to see the front of that hard body. Stepping into
his cotton boxers, he pulls them up and turns around. And there I
am, staring at his fabric-covered pee-pee.

“
Like what you see?”

Oh fuck!

He just caught me
looking at his junk!

Play it cool,
Lil.

Shrugging
nonchalantly, I ignore my burning cheeks and reply, “Not really. I
thought you’d be more- more- I don’t know. More impressive.”

The ass smiles. A
huge-ass smile from a huge ass.

Dear God! It reminds me of Heath Ledger’s smile a la
‘
10 Things I Hate
About You’
.

I love that freakin’
smile. And the ass wears it well.

My heart skips a
beat, but I remain cool as a cucumber and question, “I thought you
types were all tattooed and stuff.”

Wiping down his
broad chest with the small towel, he responds, “I’ve got tattoos,
Lily. Just not ones you’re used to seeing.”

My eyes widen in
interest. I love tattoos, and if Nox is sporting something I
haven’t seen before then, naturally, I want to see it. I ask
quietly, “Can I see them?”

Nox’s face turns
passive, almost thoughtful, before he lowers the waistline to his
underwear slightly.

Without meaning to,
I gasp aloud and cover my mouth with both hands.

Unbelievable.

Stepping forward
slowly, I reach out with a shaking hand to touch the skin there.
Just before I reach him, I rear back realizing what I was just
about to do. As I lower my face and try to turn away, Nox takes my
hand and presses it to the puckered and mutilated flesh just under
his waistline. It feels surprisingly soft under my fingertips.

Given permission, I
trace the scars with my fingertips. His stomach clenches and
contracts. I’m not sure if this is in discomfort or pain, so I pull
my fingers away from the gouged and puffed scar tissue that trails
from one hip to the other.

Suddenly tattoos
don’t appeal to me anymore.

There are no words.
I’m speechless.

Looking up at Nox,
mouth parted, I search his face. As our eyes meet, he frowns, lifts
his hand and uses his thumb to wipe away the tears I hadn’t
realized I’d shed.