“Movie?” he finally asked, and I sighed with relief, petrified of my own thoughts and the warmth in my abdomen. “No kidnapping plots.” He strolled past me into the living room and picked up the remote. “What if you realize you have Stockholm Syndrome? I’d never leave here.”
There was so much to unpack there. I hadn’t thought about him leaving, and at the same time…why? He had to leave at some point…right?
“I think you may be projecting.” I grabbed my jar of coconut oil and migrated to the couch, slumping down into the soft cushions. “I’m not the one cooking for you or paying for Netflix.”
And that’s when he sat down on the couch too, because of course, where else would he sit if we were watching TV?
Watching. TV. With the man who kidnapped me.
Tall and broad, he took up half the couch while I held the coconut oil jar like a shield. My insides were shaking at how reminiscent this was of family life.
I turned my attention to him, wanting to blurt it all out.What the hell are you doing here? Why are you so caring, so gentle, so protective? Why are you making me question my morals? Why is there a fire inside me every time I look into your eyes? Why the fuck do you smell so damn good?
Why can’t I stop thinking about you?
But instead, I swallowed the words and warmed the coconut oil in my palms, running it through my hair.
Alex watched.
His body was turned to me, and he followed my every move with his eyes, the TV playing a random local channel instead of any movie.
“If you take a picture, Alex, it’ll last longer.” I bit my lip to avoid bursting out in a shameless cackle, but he wasn’t fazed.
“I have lots of video footage, Jade.”
A chill ran through me. Of course he did. I waswellaware of the camera all this time. “Is that why you’re here? Got bored of staring at the screen?” My fingers tangled in my hair and I turned to him, the hungry look in his eyes tingling my toes.
“Not bored.” His voice wasdeep. “I just wanted the real thing.”
My mind stuttered. I felt it—the way my skin flooded with blood. I saw it—the way he slightly pulled back and focused his attention on the straps of my dress, like he had said a risky thing.
With shaking fingers, I reached into the coconut oil and then slathered it into my scalp.Quick, think of an answer fuckingquick!
But nowords came to me. No witty comeback, no remark that could get under his skin—nothing!
He watched me. Carefully observed all my actions. The way I existed beside him.
“Did you watch the digital version of me just as closely?” I asked quietly, anticipating only one specific answer.
He took a slow breath in and gave it to me. “I did.”
The TV flashed something, but neither one of us looked at the screen.
No.
Our eyes were locked.
“You like to watch?” I whispered, my oily fingers slipping in my hair.
Alex hesitated, averting his gaze for a second before—
“I like to watch you.”
I like to watch you.
My lungs scrambled to keep up with the beat of my frazzled heart. Jesus fucking Christ. I was in enemy territory. Before I could stop my wayward tongue, the words burst out of me.
“You want some?”