Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“But you can’t leave here until we find out what’s happening. I can’t let you take unnecessary risks.”
“I want to go down there and see. I need to call the sheriff’s office and the insurance company.”
“You can do all of that in the morning. We have plenty of spare rooms. You can stay here, and we’ll investigate when we wake up.”
I shake my head, completely devastated. Was it that man who came back to retaliate? Or just an accident? Did I leave the coffee machine running? Or was there an electrical fault? What the hell am I going to do?
“I need to go home.”
“It’s too risky,” Robert says. He lays a hand on my knee, and I look down at it, wondering if I can take it as genuine affection or not. Is this real, or is it just a ruse to keep me here overnight? I’d have to go into town to see for myself. I felt like I should trust him, but there’s still a flicker of doubt.
“I don’t want to overstay my welcome, and you don’t owe me anything.” I keep my voice even.
“You’re not overstaying, and it isn’t about owing, Goldie. It’s about doing the right thing. There’s no way I’ll let you go home right now. If anything happened to you, I’d feel responsible. It would be my fault. Please.”
It’s the ‘please’ that gets me. He doesn’t have to beg. Right now, he’s bigger and stronger, and I’m on his territory. If he wanted to make me stay, he wouldn’t have to try very hard. But even through the uncertainty and fear, my gut tells me it’s okay. I might regret it, but what choice do I really have?
“I don’t have a toothbrush.”
“I’ll get you one.”
“You cut my PJs in half.”
Robert snorts with quiet laughter. “I’ll give you one of my shirts.”
“Can I sleep in your room?”
His eyebrows shoot up. Spare room, indeed. We just fucked each other’s brains out, and now he’s suggesting we sleep chastely and separately. This isn’t the nineteen-forties.
“Errr—”
“I don’t snore, or steal covers. In fact, I’ve been told I’m the perfect sleeping partner. Excellent spooning technique.”
“Spooning?”
“You know, cuddling from behind?”
Robert laughs again. “If anyone’s going to be the big spoon it’ll be me. And what makes you think I like cuddling? Did the spanking give it away? The whipping? Or was it my wrist action with the cane?”
I shake my head. “None of the above. I just get the feeling. Despite the slightly grouchy, reserved exterior and your ability to exert just the right amount of pain to make me scream, you’re like a big cuddly bear.”
Robert makes a choking noise in the back of his throat. Does he disagree that much with my description?
“Are you worried about sleeping alone?”
“I’ll feel more comfortable with you. This is a strange place to me.”
“Okay.” Robert stands and reaches for my purse. I follow him out into the hallway with my eyes and ears on high alert. Where are Evan and Hunter in the house? This place is so old and rambling.
Robert’s room is up on the next floor, right at the end of the hallway. It looks exactly as I pictured, down to the filled bookshelves and the imposing ornate desk. His bed is neatly made with a dark gray comforter and four large pillows. It smells of his cologne, and I immediately feel safe.
He rummages in the closet, returning with a toothbrush in a packet and a t-shirt that will probably come down to my knees. “The bathroom is there.” He points to a door in the corner, and I’m grateful I won’t have to venture down the hallway to freshen up.
There’s something so intimate about washing in someone else’s space. Robert uses the same toothpaste as me, but everything else is more manly. I wash quickly, using a thick fluffy towel from the pile on the shelves in the corner. The plug is still in my ass, so I remove it and wash it in the sink, leaving it on the side. It’s cringy for Robert to find it after the intimacy is over, but what else am I supposed to do with it. I open the cupboard and find Robert’s deodorant. He even has some face moisturizer I can use. It would seem that even the most rugged men look after their skin.
When I’m done, I open the door slowly but find the room empty.
A note on the end of the bed reads, There’s something I need to do. I’ll be back soon. The doors are locked for your safety.
He’s gone out and left me locked in the house. Now I really feel like a captured princess. I go to the window, needing some fresh air to clear my head. It’s not hot in the room, but I feel stifled by the situation, stifled and nervous.