Buttons and Lace (Buttons 1)

Despite the discomfort, I didn’t react. I didn’t give him any hint that I was in pain. I just took it, refusing to break.

He jerked my arm violently, forcing me into his chest. He grabbed my chin with lightning speed, keeping me in place with two fingers. My gaze was forced on him. “You. Are. Mine.” He squeezed me tighter, making me tense. “The sooner you realize that, the easier this will be.” His hand moved to my neck, squeezing me with threat. “Now say it.”

“Never.” I would never bow to him. I may give him my body, but I would never give him my mind. My body reacted to him physically, loving the way his cock felt inside me. My mouth reacted to him, loving his lips pressed to mine. But he would never infiltrate my mind. He would never break my will. If Bones hadn’t succeeded, neither would he.

He squeezed my neck tighter. “Just because I’ve granted you mercy in the past doesn’t mean I’ll give it to you now. Don’t test me.” He constricted his fingers until I could hardly breathe.

“I’ll die before I say it.” He could drown me in this hot tub, and I still wouldn’t cooperate. “I don’t break for my captors. I didn’t break for Bones, and I sure as hell won’t break for you.” I held his gaze without flinching. I wouldn’t back down, not now and not ever.

He moved his face closer to mine, his dick hard under the water. The more I pushed him, the more he wanted me. His eyes darkened like that was the answer he wanted to hear. Every time I fought against him, his obsession only grew. He squeezed my throat so tightly he cut off my air supply. “We’ll see.”

***

I’d had enough.

I wasn’t putting up with my imprisonment any longer. I was only two buttons down from my debt, and I’d had to sacrifice a lot just for those two. Could I sacrifice any more?

A part of me respected Crow. He didn’t hurt me when he could have. He could have just forced my legs apart and taken me like he wanted. When Cane wanted to hurt me, he could have let it happen.

But I still hated him.

I hated the fact I actually cared for him. I hated the fact he wormed his way deep inside me. I actually enjoyed his presence, even the cryptic conversations we had. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

I wasn’t supposed to like my captor.

I had to get out.

I snuck through the house and made my way to the kitchen. The place was dark with the exception of the moonlight. It gave enough illumination to find the knives on the counter. They were stowed in the slots of a metal box, sitting right next to the sink.

I grabbed the biggest one I could find.

His bedroom was on the top floor. I’d never been inside his room, but I deduced it was next to his study. I climbed two flights of stairs without making a sound then ventured down the dark corridor. There was a paper clip in my nightstand, and I used that to pick his lock.

I worked silently, listening for the distant click of the lock when it came unhinged. My heart was beating fast, but I held my breath, too afraid to make a sound.

When the door was unlocked, I crept inside. It was dark like the rest of the house, but it was the biggest room in the mansion. It had a private living room with a flat-screen TV, a full bar, and a desk against the wall.

I shut the door behind me and tiptoed through the room. The hilt of the knife was gripped tightly in my hand. I was ready to slaughter the man who captured me. I was ready to slit his throat and let him bleed out and die. They wouldn’t find his body until the morning, and I would snatch his car keys and drive to the airport with his cash in my pocket. I’d be on the next flight back home before noon.

Home.

I left the living room and found the hallway that had to lead to his bedroom. My feet moved slowly across the floor. They were bare, and all I wore was a long t-shirt that reached my knees. If I got caught, I could lie and say I was looking for something.

His bedroom door was open. I spotted the king-size bed in the center of the room. The sheets were pristine white, and his walls were gray. His furniture was rich mahogany and designed with Italian craftsmanship. Over the bed was another one of his unusual paintings, constructed with buttons.

I crept to the bed and breathed quietly. He lay perfectly still, on his back with his face pointed to the ceiling. His eyes were closed, and his jaw was covered with a thick line of hair. When he was asleep, he looked just as handsome, even more so. The lines around his eyes were nonexistent, and the slight scowl he sometimes wore was absent. In sleep, he was just a man.