Take (Deliver 5)

He flushed the toilet and led her to the edge of the bath.

Adjusting the paper clip in his hand, he bit the end of it and made a dent. A quick twist inside the keyhole on her bracelet released the ratchets of teeth.

When the cuff swung open, she yanked her arm free and rubbed her wrist.

“Remove the shirt.” He picked the lock on his and set the handcuffs aside.

She obeyed without argument and stood before him wearing only the bandages on her thigh.

Crouching to one knee, he peeled away the medical tape and unwound the gauze. A fresh sheen of ointment coated the clean incisions. Boones must’ve treated her on the way here.

Tiago took his time examining her, admiring his work, and memorizing the stunning contrast of deep red lines against her pale skin. Then his gaze drifted to the flawless shape of her body, traveling along the sexy curves of her hips and smooth undersides of her pert tits.

He leaned in and skimmed his nose along her flat stomach. Her fingers feathered through his hair, and the soothing contact made him lightheaded.

Too soon, her touch retreated. She stepped into the water and held out a hand, offering to help him in.

The gesture surprised him, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do with it. She was too nude to conceal a weapon. Maybe she intended to drown him. But even in his weakened state, she would never be able to overpower him.

Perhaps she was just tired and wanted to get this over with.

He rose to his feet, gripped her offered hand, and lowered into the water.

Shifting to face him, she fit her legs on the outside of his and straddled his thighs. Then she went to work, lathering a washcloth with soap and cleaning his arms and the exposed skin around the bandages.

Assuaging fingers washed every inch of him, her mouth a kiss away as she finished her task with concentrated focus.

“Careful, Kate.” He sank deeper into the water, his body giving into the tranquilizing comfort. “I might get the impression you care.”

“Well, don’t. I have Stockholm syndrome.”

“You sure about that?”

“When I stepped into that parking lot with no guards, no shackles, and no confinement, freedom was right there.” A tumult of emotions scrunched her features before settling into the vertical grooves between her eyes. “All I had to do was run. I wasn’t even thinking about your threat against my friends. I want to escape that badly. But I didn’t.” She stared at her hands. “I looked back.”

His pulse thumped in memory. He’d sensed her escape from across the garage and started to go after her. The distraction had earned him a knife in the shoulder and a crippling drop to the floor. If she hadn’t come back for him, he would still be lying there. Dead.

She lifted her head and wrecked him with her crystal blue gaze. “This isn’t real. It’s just my mind’s way of coping.”

A fist of hurt slammed through his chest, one he’d earned through a lifetime of destructive choices. “What do you feel when you’re with me?”

“Fear.”

“What else?”

“Physical attraction. Desire. But you already know that.”

“You don’t think those feelings are real?”

“I don’t know. It’s not just that. I…” She closed her eyes, drew in a breath, and looked at him. “I feel protective of you, like I would choose your life over all else. I mean, I already did. I chose you over my freedom, and it doesn’t make sense. If that’s not Stockholm syndrome, I don’t know what is.”

He hated it, fucking despised her assessment of the intrinsic tether between them. But he knew what he was and what he’d done to her. Expecting her to hand over her heart to a warped bastard was inconceivable.

That didn’t, however, change his feelings for her.

“You’re probably right.” He toyed with a lock of wet blond hair that curled around her nipple. “But I don’t have Stockholm syndrome. For me, this doesn’t get any more real.”

Her expression fell. “You only feel that way because I’m the first person you’ve had sex with in twelve years.”

“No, Kate. You’re the one I had sex with because I love you.”

A quivering twitch pulled at her mouth, and her gaze dropped to the carving on her thigh. “You can’t love me. If you did, you would let me go.”

“Bullshit. You’re fucking essential, as necessary as water, air, and blood. I can’t give you up.” He gripped her chin, pulling her face to his. “If you truly love someone, you don’t let them go without a fight.”

“Even if not letting me go makes me miserable?”

“Are you? Miserable?”

“I have no freedom, no independence, no rights.” Resentment leeched her voice, sucking the calmness from her words. “If you loved me, you would at least let me leave the penthouse to take a walk or—”