Complicate (Deliver 9)

Maybe regular sexual activity over the past seven years would’ve diluted the voraciousness of his appetite. Maybe if he hadn’t been sitting naked in a dark cell for the past month with nothing to do but fantasize about his redheaded captor, maybe then he wouldn’t…

Fuck.

That was it. That was her plan.

Spending time with her would’ve worked to his advantage. He would’ve identified her weaknesses, her flaws, and seen her for who she really was. But spending a month alone? With only random glimpses of her to fuel his hungry imagination? That worked to her advantage.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Or, in his case, absence made his lust burn hotter. She’d managed to keep her distance while staying ever-present in his mind. She wore a shroud of mystery that he couldn’t peel away, leaving him to obsess over the only thing she let him see.

Her extraordinary beauty.

Once she finally let him in, there would be nothing left of his resolve.

It was fucking brilliant.

He tracked her with his whole body as she strode past him, seemingly ignoring his presence. Pretending. It was what she did best.

A few feet away, she grabbed a rubber hose and twisted a spigot on the wall, turning on the flow of water.

Twitchy, he yanked at the restraints. With his hands bound on either side of his head and more rope tethered around his neck and waist, he couldn’t move his upper half. Physically defenseless.

She pulled the hose toward him, grabbed an empty bucket, and tossed a bottle of body wash onto the pallet beside him.

Given the collection of soap, shampoo, and towels along the wall, this was where the team showered. They’d been living here for at least a month, probably longer, and a stone factory wouldn’t be equipped with a room for bathing.

“Are you going to bathe me?” He arranged his face into a smile despite the unease simmering inside him.

He hadn’t felt the touch of a woman in seven years, and he knew, he fucking knew this woman’s touch would be his undoing. But he tamped it down, didn’t give her a hint of the turmoil rolling in his gut.

She stood before him and squeezed the handle on the hose, shooting a blast of frigid water at his chest. His breath caught, and his muscles tensed. But once the shock wore off, he threw back his head and hooted with maniacal laughter.

After a month without a shower, it felt fucking refreshing. Cold water saturated his filthy beard and crusty jeans, seeping into the creases of his body and rinsing away layers of sand and dirt.

Nothing restrained his legs. So he stretched them out, spreading them wide and soaking up the spray, all the while whooping with unrestrained laughter.

Until she aimed the spray at his face.

He coughed, choking on water. Then he laughed harder.

She shut off the hose. “You’re deranged.”

“Turn it back on.”

“Tell me who bought the stolen intel.”

“If I tell you, will you let me go?”

“I won’t return you to the cell.”

“Ah.” He chuckled. “Is my grave already dug?”

Her dainty nostrils stiffened with a sharp inhale. “I won’t kill you.”

“No, you’re too soft to kill an innocent man. You’ll make one of your goons do it.”

Without breaking eye contact, she fired a burst of water at his groin. The denim added some protection, but fuck, the jet hit hard. And cold. His balls receded up inside him, his laughter effectively cut off.

She shifted the hose away and filled the bucket.

He relaxed, watching her. “Where did you go for five days?”

“Out.”

“Out of town?”

“Out of state.”

“Why?”

“Why? Yeah, let’s start there.” She heaved the full bucket onto the pallet beside him, set her hands on his thighs, and leaned into his personal space, surrounding him with the cherry scent of her hair. “Why did you provoke the guards? What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Your concern is touching.” He tilted his head. “Does this mean we’re friends?”

“What?” She jerked back, eyebrows pinching.

“I’ll be honest.” He tugged on the rope. “This doesn’t feel very friendly. Unless you’re into this sort of thing. Which I am. But only when I’m the one playing with the rope.”

“Mm-hmm.” She narrowed her eyes, her accent laced with sarcasm. “We both know how many times you’ve played over the past seven years.” Holding her hand up between them, she made her fingers and thumb form the shape of a zero.

“You want to be the one.” He wet his lips, his mouth inches from hers. “The one I break my celibacy with.”

“No,” she said too quickly. “You’re…just…” She made a sound of frustration. “You’re smarter than this, Cole. Smart enough to know the guards were baiting you.”

“Smart enough to know you are baiting me.”

“Sometimes, I wonder…” Her gaze dipped to his lips and returned to his eyes. “Who’s baiting who?”

Intelligent sea-green eyes stared out of the face of a Gothic angel. Enraptured, Cole stared back, knowing eye contact with this cursed creature was treacherous. Lydia didn’t just look at him. She looked into him as if she knew his darkest desires.