Foxy In Lingerie (Lingerie 10)

I’d been the recipient of a look like that many times, except Egor never showed me a hint of compassion. If I didn’t sob during a beating, he wouldn’t stop until the tears emerged. He got off to pain only, not pleasure.

I held my head high as I stepped into the shower and let the glass door close behind me. The warm water felt so good that I stopped caring about the man staring at me. My hair turned heavy from the water, but it also became lighter as the oil from my scalp was washed away. I rubbed the soap into my body and cleaned under my fingernails. Then I massaged the shampoo into my scalp and watched all the dirt and oil swirl down the drain.

The shower was so nice that I wanted to stay there forever.

When I looked out the glass, he was still watching me. As if there was a stunt I could pull, he kept his eyes glued to me. But after the few stunts I’d already pulled, he didn’t trust me at all. He wasn’t stupid. He knew I was a fighter, and I wouldn’t give up until I was free.

So he would never stop watching me.

I shouldn’t have underestimated him. I should have waited until the perfect opportunity arose before I made my move. Now, he would always anticipate it. But when he first bought me, I had no idea what kind of man he was. He could have been worse than Egor for all I knew.

Thankfully, he was much better.

I finished my shower and then dried off with the towel Carter handed to me. I dried my hair, moisturized my skin, and then prepared to put on the clothes I’d left on the bathroom floor.

“I have something else for you.” Carter grabbed the outfit from the bedroom, a pair of jeans, a bra, and a t-shirt. “I think it’s your size.”

I took it with gratitude, finally holding real clothes in my hands. Egor never allowed me to wear clothes. “Thanks.” I shouldn’t have to express my gratefulness, not when I was the one with no rights, but I did anyway. I put them on and felt like a new person.

“Your ankles look pretty bad,” he said as he stared down at my feet.

“Yeah…I’ve had solid metal wrapped around them for weeks. Gets old.”

He walked toward the doorway and nodded for me to follow.

Was I finally getting to leave the bedroom?

“Let me give you a tour.” He stepped into the hallway and then pointed toward the opposite end. “These are a few guest rooms, my office, and my bedroom.” He headed to the spiral staircase and moved to the large sitting room that had several couches and a large flat-screen TV. “Living room. And here’s the kitchen.” He led me into a large room with a big kitchen island. There was plenty of counter space and a separate dining room.

“You live here alone?” It was a big place for one person.

“Yes.” He opened the fridge and pulled out a few ingredients. “Hungry?”

I’d been eating nothing but sandwiches and chips all week. I was desperate for something more substantial. “Yes.”

“Alright.” He tossed a few veggies at me. “Wash these.”

“You’re going to let me help you make dinner?” I asked in surprise.

He got to work on the meat, slicing it into pieces. “I’ve got to put you to work, right?”

Just a few minutes ago, he’d made it sound like he would never allow me to leave that bedroom. Now, he’d abruptly changed his mind. It must have been the scars on my back that made him rethink his decision. He pitied me. I never wanted a man’s pity, but right now, I would take it.

It made me realize that this man was more good than evil. He was aroused by my scars, but he also pitied them at the same time. Perhaps my standards for men had changed since becoming a prisoner because Carter’s feeling and behaviors were still morally wrong.

But they were nothing compared to what I was used to.

“I’m going to cut you a deal.” He sliced the meat on the cutting board before he set the knife down. He gripped the edge of the counter with both hands as he looked at me across the kitchen island. “Behave, and I will reward you.”

“What does that mean?” I asked. “I don’t speak dog.”

He grinned at my smartass comment then laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“You remind me of someone.” He scooped up the meat with his hands then placed it in a stainless-steel bowl.

“Who?”

“My sister.” He moved to the sink and washed his hands with soap. Then he patted them dry with paper towels. “She’s the sassiest woman I’ve ever met…until you.”

“I like her already.”

“I think she’d like you too.” He snapped his fingers and pointed at the vegetables. “I told you to wash those.”