Chased (Savage Men 3)

But if he wanted to kill me, he would’ve done it already. Right?

That must mean something.

“Come,” he says, trying to pull me along again, but I hesitate.

“Wait.”

He stops.

“I …” God, why is this so hard to ask? “Can I … feel your face?”

“Why?”

“So I know what you look like,” I answer.

Slowly but gently, he lifts my hand and brings it to his face, where he lets it go. I suck in a breath and start feeling around. Running my thumbs along his nose, his ears, his sharp jaw and pronounced chin, the stubble all around his mouth, his pronounced but thin lips, and the thick brows lining his eyes. His hair runs back along his head, slick and gelled all the way down his neck.

And for some reason, my hands don’t stop there.

They go down his neck and along his shoulders to his chest … and I feel every inch of thick muscle underneath the button-up shirt he’s wearing. His nipples peak. I swallow as heat spreads across my cheeks.

“Felt enough?” he asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

Fuck. What am I even doing?

I immediately take my hands off him.

That was awkward.

“Yeah … thanks,” I reply.

He immediately grabs my hand again and pulls me along. “Come. I’ll show you around.”

My feet traipse behind him, while I carefully count the number of steps inside this room. When the door opens, I’ve counted six. It’s five more to the table.

“Oh, watch out,” he says. “Sharp corners.”

“It would be easier if you let me do this on my own,” I say.

It takes him a while to release my hand.

Maybe he’s scared …

Of me trying to hurt him?

Or of me hurting myself?

I’m not sure, which is why I move away from him before I do anything stupid.

I touch the chairs and shuffle across the floor until I come across the wall, which I follow all the way to a door.

“That’s where your room is,” he says.

“Okay.”

I follow along the wall to a television, and just behind it is a small coffee table and a couch.

To the left feels like windows, and in the far corner is the kitchen, because I can open all the cabinets and drawers. Would this be where he keeps the knives?

One of them won’t open, though. It’s locked.

“You won’t find any knives, if you’re looking,” he says.

Shit.

Guess he saw right through me.

Am I that easy to read? Or do we just think alike?

“I’ve put away anything dangerous.” There’s a smug sound to his voice that makes me narrow my eyes.

“How thoughtful,” I reply cynically.

When I find the sink, I turn on the faucet and let the warm water run along my hands. God, it feels so good. I find the soap bottle and squirt some onto my hands, washing them until they’re soft. They haven’t felt this nice in ages, and I can’t stop touching them after they’ve dried.

“Feels good?”

I jolt from the sudden closeness of his voice.

I never actually heard him walk toward me. Was I so focused on what I was doing? Or is he able to make himself unheard?

Just the thought of not being able to hear where he is makes goose bumps scatter on my skin.

“Want to take a shower?” he says.

I nod. Dying. I’m dying for a shower. But I won’t admit that to him.

“Thought so. C’mon.” He grabs my hand again, but this time, it feels less forceful and much more as though he’s trying to guide me around his apartment. If that’s what this is, because I’m not sure if there’s more. But it is really, really huge. Penthouse huge. Which isn’t strange, considering he spent money on an actual human being.

I know he bought me. I just don’t know how much he paid for me. I couldn’t hear anything when I was in that small cage during the auction, unlike the bigger glass prison where I lived before with Ella and Cage. But when I was taken away and put there … it felt like I was put on display for all to see.

It made me feel filthy.

Like I needed to wash something off.

“Here we are,” Chase says, stopping in his tracks and releasing my hand. He flips a switch and says, “Towels are in the cabinet in the corner, next to the shower. Sink is right beside you. Shower is in the back. And there’s a tub to your left. That’s about it.”

“Thanks,” I say.

I’m dying to get rid of these panties and this bra Graham made me wear when he imprisoned me. But Chase is still here, and I’m very much aware of his presence.

Of course, he won’t leave.

I might try to escape … or worse, harm him.

Or maybe he thinks I might harm myself.

None of that is true. I just want to take a shower. And right now, I don’t care if he watches me or not.