Sweet Captivity

I remained cocooned in warm darkness, reveling in the blissful headspace I’d found in finally, fully submitting to Andrés.

Chapter 16

Andrés stayed with me late into the following morning. The sun was already high when I finally awoke. The last few nights, I’d been getting the deepest, most peaceful sleep of my life with Andrés’ corded arm draped over me, his hard body shaped around mine. I wasn’t accustomed to sleeping so many hours, or to feeling so well rested. It helped calm my buzzing brain.

Trapped in my captor’s strong arms was probably the last place in the world I should get a good night’s sleep. That definitely would have been my attitude when he’d first captured me. He’d been huge and scarred and scary, and his claims that I belonged to him had terrified me.

I was still being kept here against my will, but I was coming to understand Andrés a little better. He might be violent and mercurial, but he’d always been completely honest with me. He planned to train me to accept his touch and even come to crave it—something he’d managed with almost laughable ease.

But he’d also promised never to harm me, and I was coming to truly believe that. I was starting to trust him, despite everything. He might be harsh, but he had his own code. There were lines he wouldn’t cross, and he’d proven that to me when he’d freed me from the spanking bench and taken me into the safe haven of his arms, holding me and apologizing for scaring me.

He’d wanted to hurt me. He’d needed it. I’d seen it in the wildness of his eyes.

But he’d held himself back. He’d put my needs before his own. And considering he could do absolutely anything he wanted to me as his helpless captive, that meant more to me than was probably healthy.

I mulled all this over while I went through my

morning routine, separated from my captor by the flimsy barrier of the bathroom door. Since he was still in the suite with me, I was allowed to leave the bed and see to my needs.

Andrés hadn’t yet collared me for the day, and I found myself touching my fingers to my bare throat. It was a little weird, not feeling the soft leather there. I was becoming accustomed to it, and its absence made me feel…

I shook my head sharply, deciding to stop contemplating it. I should definitely resent the collar, even if I couldn’t bring myself to hate Andrés the way I should. He’d taken my freedom from me. And no matter how kind and caring he might seem at times, he still wanted to keep me as his pet, his plaything. He didn’t respect me as a woman, as a fully-functioning human being with a mind of her own.

“Sirenita,” he called out, his stern voice emanating through the bathroom door. “Your breakfast is getting cold. Come.”

I blew out a long breath and tried to quiet my whirring thoughts. Like a puppy being called to heel, I had to go back into the bedroom. If I didn’t, he’d just come in here and retrieve me. And then he’d probably punish me for defying him.

I was feeling particularly brittle after the intensity what had passed between us last night, and I didn’t think I could handle his rebuke at the moment. Even though part of me got turned on by his discipline, I much preferred when he praised me and cuddled me. My nightmare scenario of being held captive was so much easier to bear when he was being nice.

Nice.

God, I am turning into Lauren, I thought bitterly, but I made my way back into the bedroom without complaint.

Andrés was seated on the edge of the bed, fully dressed. That meant he was going to leave soon. A pang shot through my chest, and the irrational reaction only darkened my mood further.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as I walked toward the bed, going to him without thought of resistance.

“Nothing.” I waved him off, not willing to further examine my conflicted feelings, especially not with my captor.

His brows drew together. “Don’t lie to me,” he warned

He reached for me, grasping my waist and positioning my body so I was seated in his lap, the way we usually shared meals. He didn’t bother trying to keep the cutlery from me anymore. I eyed the knife and fork where they sat on the tray beside my huge plate of bacon. I could just grab the knife and…

My stomach turned before I could even begin to visualize Andrés’ blood spilling onto my hand.

“Cosita?” he prompted, waiting for my honest response.

I tore my eyes from the knife and focused my gaze on him. “I am a little upset this morning,” I admitted. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

He cupped my cheek in his big hand, his dark eyes studying mine intently, as though he could see straight into my soul.

“You don’t have any secrets from me,” he said, but his tone held a note of strain. He wanted me to share with him, even though he was trying to command me to open myself up and give him everything.

I was starting to understand him, but it seemed he might be coming to some revelations of his own. He was beginning to realize he couldn’t force my devotion, even if he could condition my obedience.

“Please,” I whispered. “I don’t want to think about it right now.”

That was the truth. When I saw pain stir in his eyes, an illogical yearning to erase it rose up within me. Laying all my tangled emotions bare for both of us to see would only cause more hurt and confusion.