Summer Camp Captive

My disbelief continues when she slides her hands up beneath my shirt, tracing my scars with her fingertips and making a sad, mewling noise. Keep her from that horror. Distract her. She doesn’t like being reminded I’m a freak. Who would?

“I’m grateful just being allowed to pleasure your body…I never thought you’d let me near your perfect mouth with this face.”

“Stop,” she says, her eyes closed, her thighs wide open. “Shhh. More, baby.”

“Lainey,” I choke out, almost coming in my pants. “You called me—”

She yanks me down for another long, mind-blowing kiss, her hips working under mine, inviting me to fuck while her tongue tangles with mine, reminding me we’re not in a hurry. That we can just kiss like this…just like this—

A hard object smashes down on my head.

Jagged pieces splinter in all directions around me, bouncing off my arms and the mattress. A deafening roar rips from my throat as I lower myself to protect my beautiful Lainey. Protect her from whoever has enough of a death wish to enter my home while I’m kissing my girl. I’m momentarily confused when she’s no longer beneath me, her heat and soft skin gone.

I catch on soon enough when her racing footsteps register behind me. There’s a broken lamp dangling from her hand—the one that usually sits on my bedside table. Pain lances me through the ribs, forcing my breath from my lungs.

She doesn’t like kissing me. It was all a distraction.

None of it was real. And now she’s going to escape.

Denial crushes both sides of my skull as I lunge off the bed, my bellow splitting the night in half. Feeling as though my insides have been slashed to ribbons, I go after her.

Chapter Five

Lainey

Running naked through the forest is super not ideal.

Poison ivy and mosquitos and wolves notwithstanding, I have an eight-foot-tall, four-hundred-pound giant crashing through the trees behind me.

And he’s not happy.

A sob kindles in my throat when I hear him shout my name, sounding like a wounded animal. Well, what the hell was I supposed to do? Lie there and let him take my virginity with a ten-pound eggplant lookalike? Dude was already way too attached before we slept together. I can’t even imagine how he’d be afterward.

Probably caring and lovely and—

Oh my God. Do I hear myself?

This might sound crazy, but…I thought Carver was listening when I told him about my past. I saw the sympathy in his amazing—stop it, Lainey—green eyes and I knew he would understand that I’ve spent my life trapped. I can’t do it again. But that’s exactly what he wants to do to me. Keep me in his cabin, never let me leave, and growl at anyone who comes close. After spending the bulk of my childhood in foster care, I know too well what it’s like to have no options.

Once I’d been returned to my mother, I spent a year trapped in a tiny one-bedroom, sleeping on a pull-out couch, unable to leave in case my mother took one too many hits this time. She sold me into veritable servitude. Thank God I escaped before that became a reality, but I promised myself I would never live beneath someone else’s thumb.

I won’t live like that again. This freedom I’ve taken for myself is too fresh, and no one is going to take it away from me. Even if my body is still seriously buzzing from Carver’s touch. No denying that. My thighs are still sticky where they rub together with every sprinted step. My nipples are aching in miserable little points. Until he stopped listening and tried to rule me, I was loving every stroke of his tongue, the cherishing touch of his hands. The good parts are all my body seems to remember right now. And being painfully turned on is really adding to the surreal nature of running through the forest naked. I don’t recommend it.

A tree branch whips against my cheek, and I duck right, hoping to find a path. Any path. I was sort of upside down when Carver brought me to his cabin, so I have no idea if I’m going in the right direction.

“LAINEY!”

A whimper falls from my lips. He sounds agonized and angry at the same time. As much as I’m determined to get away, I can’t help but feel a serious pull back toward Carver. He’s not a monster. Not at all. He’s actually very sweet, when he’s not threatening to murder anyone who thinks about touching my pussy.

Even that was kind of sweet.

Jesus. Do I have Stockholm syndrome?

I quickly discard that notion. The syndrome takes a lot longer to kick in than an hour. Plus I wouldn’t be running away if—

My foot catches on something and I go sailing in the air. Light flashes in front of my eyes, pain slicing down behind my right eye. Ow. Ow. Oh my God. Dizziness blurs what little vision I have in the moonlight, and that is soon obscured by oozing, red moisture. Blood. Hearing impossibly heavy footfalls coming closer, I attempt to stand, but lose my balance and go down hard.