He glanced over his shoulder, meeting her unblinking stare. Ropes of sinew corded up his lean torso. His muscled shoulders and arms bunched effortlessly. He was gorgeous.
Her eyes narrowed. She hated him for being so physically flawless.
He approached the window, the front flap of his pants held in place by one tiny button. Her breath quickened as he held out a hand, his eyes gesturing to the knife.
Her grip tightened around the handle.
“Very well.” He reached behind her and she gasped, but he only adjusted the curtain, dropping it back in place and snuffing out the moonlight.
He lowered himself to the bed, stretching out beside her empty half. “Do not cut yourself, ainsicht.”
She scanned the shadows. Would he just fall asleep and leave her there? This might be easier than she expected.
“Come to bed.”
Her heart jumped into a gallop. She swallowed. No way she’d lie with him.
He rolled to his side, lifting his head to balance on his fist as he angled his weight to his elbow. “With the moonlight seeping through the crack I can see through your gown.”
She skittered away from the silver stripe and he chuckled.
“So modest. Yet when we first met you wore less than you’re wearing now.”
“That was different. I was at work, not trapped in a dark room with you.”
“Yes, at work with thirty other men able to look their fill.”
“They don’t look at me like that.”
“Yes. They do.” He pulled back the covers. “Come.”
She thought of Grace, of her advice. Her eyes closed. She couldn’t do it.
But part of her wilted at that lie. She could do it. He was a gorgeous psychopath. So long as he didn’t hurt her, she could get through sex with him. The sad truth was she might even enjoy it. What kind of woman did that make her?
She glanced at the door. Or she could run.
“Annalise.”
Her head snapped to him, her gaze questioning. “What happens if I come to bed?”
“That depends on you.”
“On me?” She couldn’t catch her breath. Maybe if she tired him out...
“Please.” The gentle plea unraveled something, and she quickly tensed, forcing herself not to fall for any of his charm. He sighed and rolled to his back. “Fine.”
He folded his hands behind his head, soft tufts of hair showing under his arms as he stared at the ceiling. Life would be so much simpler if he were hideous.
Her legs were getting tired of standing. She inched toward the bed and a floorboard creaked, just as Grace had warned. With several creeping steps she crossed the floor until she stood at the bed. He never took his gaze off the ceiling.
The firm mattress allowed her the dignity of sitting without a sound. Taking long, unsteady breaths, she reclined next to him, clutching the knife in both hands to her chest. She stared at the ceiling.
His hair rasped as he turned to look at her. “Did Grace take good care of you?”
Memories of being tortured with frigid well water made her shiver. But, overall, his sister had been kind and generous with her advice, so she nodded.
“Good. Did she plait your hair?” His hand closed over her braid, lifting it off her shoulder.
She couldn’t breathe. He touched her as if he’d touched her for years, as if he had every right to.
His fingers crested her shoulder, tracing over the thin fabric and sending chills dancing across her skin. Her nipples pebbled and although darkness cloaked her, she sensed he knew the effect he had.
His palm flattened on her chest, not touching her breasts, but gauging her heartbeat. “I won’t hurt you.”
Her jagged breathing serrated the silence, smooth then jutting, no matter how much she willed herself to calm down. He kept his hand pressed to her chest, his bright eyes studying her in the dark.
Her vision adjusted to the shadows, but her focus never turned to him. She counted the cracks in the plaster walls, the pegs by the door, the beats of her heart. She kept counting until her heart slowed and her shallow breaths gave way to quenching ones.
“Brave meid. Good girl.” He shifted closer, his warmth seeping into her skin as he crowded her under the covers.
Warm lips pressed to her shoulder and she stiffened. “Relax, ainsicht. Close your eyes and feel. I will not hurt you.”
The unmistakable press of his arousal at her hip punctured her tenuous trust. If she told him to stop, would he? How far did his promise not to hurt her go?
Gentle fingers gathered the material of her gown unveiling her legs beneath the covers and awakening something inside of her, something she didn’t want to face. He left the soft material bunched at her belly, moving his hand upward, but leaving her very aware of her exposed lower half.
Her hands gripped the handle of the knife so tight they shook. He closed his fingers around hers, marking the difference in their hand size.