I sigh and close my eyes, rubbing my painfully throbbing throat. I look over at the tray of food. It was lasagna and a side salad with a bottle of orange juice on the side. I pick up the fork and force myself to eat at least some of it before the psycho decides to come back up and kill me for disobeying him again.
I managed to force down half the lasagna and orange juice before my stomach protests, and I drop my fork, not wanting to throw up.
* * *
Two days goby terribly slowly. I tried my best to avoid him and stayed out of his way. Damien would bring me food and leave without a word or so much as a glance. I hadn’t seen him today, and I was going stir crazy being cooped up inside. I needed air. It was almost dusk; the sun had begun its descent. I make my way downstairs and look around—no sign of Damien.
I walk through the kitchen and slide the door to the back open and step outside. I hear music the moment I step out—rock music, no surprise there. I look around, and for a fleeting moment, I wanted to run as fast as my legs would take me but, something inside me told me not to, that he would find me and kill me before I could get too far.
I follow the sound of the music which was coming from the other side of the house. Walking around, I stop when I see Damien was working out in his gym. I suppose a body like his doesn’t happen overnight and would require hard work and discipline to upkeep. Just watching him made me realize how badly I missed running and working out myself.
Sighing, I lean against the doorframe and watch him lifting weights, sweat dripping from his forehead, his arms and torso glistening under the late afternoon sunlight. Why did he have to be such a cold-hearted bastard? Furthermore, why did he have to look like he did? Like he’s been sculpted by Greek Gods— tall, robust, and muscular. So sinfully handsome. Dark and brooding. It would have been a lot easier to resist him if he didn’t look so damn good all the time. I have this uncontrollable attraction to this man.
I wish I hadn’t been blindfolded that day so that I could have watched him. I close my eyes and picture him with his head between my legs, those gray eyes staring up at me as he pleasures me till I’m climaxing all over his tongue.
I open my eyes and gasp when I see him towering over me. I lift my eyes to his and gulp. Damien was standing so close to me I could feel the heat radiating off his body, smell the sweat on his skin. “Jesus.” I breathe instinctively, trying to back up but curse when my back hits the door. Damien smirks and decides to cage me in by lifting his arms and place them on either side of my head.
“What are you doing out here?” He questions, lowering his head so he could look me dead in the eyes. He loves doing that—eye contact was something he was big on, it seems.
“I, um…” I search my brain for an excuse, but I couldn’t think straight with him this close and looking at me like that. “I needed some air. I’ve been confined up in that room for days. I heard music and followed it here.”
“Enjoy watching me work out?” I had the urge to roll my eyes but caught myself just in time. I wasn’t looking to get choked again and have him make good on his threat, which I’m sure he would without hesitation or remorse.
I let my eyes roam over him before I look up at him again. “I’ve seen better,” Damien smirks, and his eyes darken, straightening; he takes hold of my face in his right hand and lifts my head, so I was compelled to look up at him.
“Is that right?”
I nod.
Damien wets his lips, his eyes never leaving mine. “Your eyes tell me different, pretty girl.” I force myself to hold his gaze, and he leans closer, his nose almost pressed against mine.
The scent of him made my head whirl, a mixture of his cologne, sweat, and laundry detergent. I had the urge to inhale deeply so I could soak up the intoxicating manly scent of him and use it later when he invades my mind—which he does ninety-five percent of the day.
“And exactly what do my eyes tell you?” I need to learn to shut my mouth around this man and stop defying him, but something tells me he secretly enjoys the push back.
“That you want more.” He utters arrogantly, biting down on his bottom lip as his eyes slowly drift down to my lips. “Deep in that fire you’ve got burning in those gorgeous blue eyes of yours, you’re curious, thirsty, and you’ve now got an insatiable hunger for hot, dirty, kinky fuckery…with me.” I resist the urge to quiver when I feel his hot breath on my lips.
“I wouldn’t read too much into it.”
“And what were you fantasizing about before?” Shit. How the hell did he know. I must be transparent as hell for him to know I was fantasizing about him.
“What? I don’t—I wasn’t.” I try to object, but the knee-weakening glare he was currently donning told me to stop wasting my breath because he didn’t believe me.
“Don’t lie to me.” He licks those sinful lips, and my eyes drift down to them at the gesture and back up to his eyes again. What the hell is wrong with me? “Tell me.” He demands, leaning in closer.
“There’s nothing to tell.” I lie, but he doesn’t bite and continues to stare at me expectantly.
“Ezra.” I groan inwardly at the threatening tone in his voice. I feel paralyzed. Every time this man comes near me, I freeze, and all the air gets forced out of my lungs, leaving me breathless.
“Why would you assume I was fantasizing?” I question and wince when his fingers tighten around my jaw. His lips are so close I can feel his breath on mine, and my stomach constricts with anticipation.
“Because your cheeks were flushed, your lips slightly parted, and your breathing was shallow. Just like it is now.” He explains his voice deep and quiet, an octave over a whisper, and it made my head go hazy. “Let me ask you one more time and think twice before you lie to me again. What were you fantasizing about?”
“You.”
“That, I already know,” He hisses. Smug bastard. “More.”
“I was picturing your head between my legs. H-how it would feel to watch you while you…um...”