Deliver (Deliver 1)

His chest heaved, and a moan rumbled in his throat. She savored the response, wanted to hear more, feel him closer. She wanted to crawl inside of him. She slid her hands down his chest and slipped under the hem. Gliding back up the warm taut brawn of his abs and the velvet skin wrapping his pecs, she paused over the beat of his heart against her palm.

He gripped her nape, angled her head, and intensified the kiss. She didn’t know if it was her emotional exhaustion or if he was more experienced than she’d thought, but his mastery over her was assured and exquisite. Every lick and nibble tingled through her body, curling her toes against his thighs, racing her heart, and fuzzing her brain.

Too soon, they came up for air. After a few noisy breaths, she gave him a smile, which he returned with warmth and affection.

“Wow.” She shook her muddled head. “You’ve done that a lot, haven’t you?”

He captured her lips again, his mouth just as maddening and curling, leaving her body shivering when he finished. “Kissing is the only thing I can do.”

Her heart pinched. Unfortunately, her bladder, too, but she refused to leave the embrace of his arms. Emotions swept through her as she snuggled against his chest, swirling her thoughts into a jumbled knot. She wasn’t ready to voice her worries and ruin the moment, but he did it for her.

“Does Van know Mr. E’s identity?”

Their eyes met and she nodded.

“Do you?”

She traced his strong jaw, the whiskers rasping against her finger. He held still as she followed the smooth skin stretching over his cheekbones, between his enchanting eyes and disappearing beneath the soft inky hue of his hairline. His beauty had the power to enthrall and distract.

She dropped her hand. “If I knew Mr. E’s identity, we wouldn’t be sitting here.” She would’ve tracked him down. Perhaps he had a family she could’ve threatened. “Van claims he’s only seen beneath the mask once, when Mr. E lured him from his mother’s meth house. I have my doubts.” Her bladder prodded again.

Something shifted through his eyes, and his jaw twitched. “Mr. E basically pushed you into my arms last night.” His embrace tightened around her, punctuating his point. “Why would he do that? And I see the way Van watches you. Why would Van let him do that?”

The answers weren’t simple, most of which were based on her own theories. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

He carried her to the toilet. She might’ve refused out of pride if she weren’t so reluctant to leave his arms. He lowered her to the rim and squatted before her.

Her head spun from the sudden loss of his supportive strength, but she still mustered a glare when he propped his chin on a fist and settled in.

“You look like you’re about to fall over.” His tone was gentle.

Too tired to argue, she closed her eyes and released her bladder. “Van may not agree with everything Mr. E does, but he’s never challenged him. He loves the cocksucker like a father.” She glanced up and found him observing her steadily.

The set of his jaw matched the hardness of his eyes. “Van thinks he loves you.”

That truth didn’t need acknowledgment. She flushed the toilet and moved to the shower. “Mr. E’s actions aren’t always transparent. Last night was the first time he’d ever raised a hand against me. Other than…” She touched the scar on her cheek and turned the tap to warm.

He sat against the wall outside the open shower as she undressed and washed. Her movements were robotic, but her thoughts were an utter mess. Now that he knew her situation, what was he willing to do?

She needed to know where his head was. “Maybe Mr. E pushed us together to wrangle your sympathy for me, a ploy to persuade you to do what needs to be done, using me as leverage.”

Though his eyes followed the motion of her hands, they were unfocused, turned inward.

“He’s never attempted anything like this.” It seemed too complicated to be worth the effort. As she washed her belly and thighs, she lay a soapy hand over the horizontal c-section scar below her bikini line. It was one scar she wished hadn’t faded. “Honestly, I don’t know why he’s kept me alive all these years.”

“Do you have sex with Van privately? Or do you just screw him in front of your slaves?” Quiet words at odds with his finger digging restlessly at a frayed hole in his jeans.

Her throat convulsed, her stomach caving with humiliation. Was he regretting the kiss they’d just shared? He wasn’t glaring at her with judgment or pumping his muscles with jealousy. But he’d also been raised to approach problems with civility and grace. She shut off the water and faced him, wet and naked, with a quiver in her voice. “It’s complicated.”

The hand on his leg curled into a fist, and his chest heaved. He straightened his fingers, cleared his throat, and imprisoned her eyes. “Complicated how? Is it consensual?”

Was it? She nodded. Unsure, she shook her head then nodded again.

He stood, slowly, his expression tight, and wrapped a towel around her. “I really need you to explain that answer, Liv.” He rifled through her trunk while she sketched out Van’s tricks, his mind games, and his threats to involve Mr. E.

“He doesn’t physically force me.” She felt sick, weak, frozen in the shower stall. “Having sex in front of you…” She shivered with self-hatred. “I was cornered. He’d told that morning he was going to fuck you. I convinced him jealousy was more effective.”

He glared at his hands, gripping the edge of the trunk, his eyes full of pain, his face red. When he returned, he handed her a t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of panties that matched the mint green of his irises. He touched her face, his fingers lingering on her mouth. “Do you come for him?”

Shit, she didn’t want to answer that, but he looked at her as if he were consumed by the need to know. She gripped the towel around her chest. “Yes.”

Tension vibrated from his body as he stormed through the room. He seemed to be trying to drive it away with his swift strides back to the trunk and whatever was distracting him there. She didn’t own anything personal. Only meaningless things she’d collected while living in that room. She dressed and sat on the mattress.

While he rummaged, she told him what the news had been reporting about his disappearance, highlighting the resiliency his parents exuded during their interviews. Then she talked about her own experience with Mom’s grieving and her eventually moving on. “When enough time has passed, your fake decomposed remains will turn up somewhere and put an end to all the searching. I don’t know how Mr. E arranges such a thing, but he pulled it off when I disappeared—” her throat dried, scratching her voice “—and Van says Mr. E intends to do the same with you.”

During her one-sided conversation, he’d found a tennis ball in the trunk, a gift she’d earned as a slave. He tossed it against the far wall, caught it, tossed it again, over and over. He didn’t seem to be listening.

“Am I boring you?”

He snatched the ball out of the air and jerked his head toward her, his eyes clouded under the V of his dark eyebrows. “Mr. E has a pretty twisted hold on me by threatening your life. How does this affect the threat against my parents?”

“That threat was my creation.” She felt sick. “An empty one.” Harming his parents had never been an option. She wanted to go back to the day she took him and erase the worry she’d planted in his head. She also wanted to bury her pen knife in Mr. E’s jugular and watch his stupid mask soak up the blood. Damn him for manipulating Josh into feeling sorry for her.

He watched her with eyes too perceptive for his age. “Is Van a threat to my parents?”

She pressed a cool hand against her burning cheek. “Your parents are entangled with media and detectives. He wouldn’t dare go near them.” Even without the risk, she didn’t believe Van would murder an innocent person.

Josh’s fist flexed around the ball, his other hand scraping roughly over his face.

“What’s bothering you? Besides the obvious.” She gestured around the room,

indicating his prison cell.

He glanced at her, the tightness of his chest visible in the muscles straining his shirt. “I work my parents’ farm at dawn and dusk.” He flung the ball, caught the bounce back. “At practice, I sprint, tackle, and sweat through endurance exercises for hours every day.” His voice lowered. “Now I’m locked in an attic with the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” The ball sailed through the air, returned to his hand. “Whom I just shared a very. Arousing. Kiss. With.” A toss and catch punctuated each word.

A warm tendril of pleasure shivered through her. She wanted to close the distance and wrap her arms around him, but he seemed to be trying to control his arousal and pent-up energy. She had no interest in taunting him.

Lowering his head, he pressed the ball to his brow. “And there is a tyrant waiting outside that door to have sex with you. Again.” He resumed pummeling the wall. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. “I’m trying real hard to keep myself in check, Liv.”