Page 88 of Captive Souls
“Naked.” He trailed his finger along the hem of my tee, pulling at it to expose my collarbone. My breath hitched at the simple touch.
“Naturally,” I said, breathing heavily. “I’ll … go get ready.” I gestured to the bathroom, unaware as to why I was suddenly acting so chaste when this man had seen all of me.
So I did what any sane—debatable—woman would do. I went to the bathroom to get naked for her captor to paint her.
“Ready?” I asked him, grinning. Once I’d set up the easel, he’d taken over arranging everything else he needed.
I’d watched him with rapt attention, enchanted by him moving in this way. His deft fingers arranging paintbrushes, paints, precisely lining them up beside him. If I got a ruler out, I’d bet they were the exact same distance away from one another, down to the millimeter.
He looked up from his paints.
I saw it. The flicker of uncertainty. Of … fear? Unease? He was out of his comfort zone. And that satisfied me. That he was willing to go there with me.
He nodded once, curtly, instead of speaking. Once again retreating to that cold part of himself. But his mask didn’t hurt me. It didn’t fool me.
I dropped the robe I’d been covering myself with.
Knox let out a sharp hiss although he’d seen me naked many times in the short amount of time we’d been … whatever we were. He’d made it his business to learn every inch of my skin. To own it.
But he still reacted with visceral hunger that I felt in my synapses whenever he looked at me. I wondered how long that would last for. Surely, the shine would come off the diamond, so to speak. Then I thought about my need for him. It surely did not seem to have a bottom. I couldn’t even envision myself not reacting with feral desire for Knox.
“Where do you want me?”
His eyes flared with lust as he fingered a brush.
My core hummed, and my nerves tingled with salacity.
His very gaze told me where he wanted me. Riding his cock. Which was very much where I wanted to be too. I’d never felt more complete than when Knox was inside of me. Never felt more healed. And I was never sated either. Despite the amount of times we’d had sex, my insides aching from exertion.
I denied the hungry goddess inside of me, urging for more of him.
Again, Knox didn’t speak, he merely canted his head toward the bed, still rumpled and unmade from us. The scent of our coupling still lingered in the air.
I breathed it in as I sat on the bed.
“How should I sit?” I asked, unashamed of my nakedness. I’d always been confident, but the way in which Knox had shown reverence for every inch of my skin made it impossible to feel shy about any of it.
“Show her to me,” he commanded, voice as rough as a handful of rocks, grazing my bare skin in the most delightful way.
I knew what he was talking about. It was impossible not to. His possessive gaze was zeroed in on the space between my legs. The core that throbbed for him.
“Make yourself comfortable too,” he added. “Read.”
I smiled against the command that I might’ve bristled at a week ago. A lifetime ago. Now his commands made me feel warm, secure. Safe.
I reached over to where I’d placed the book on the wooden nightstand, never able to get more than a few paragraphs in.
“You think I’m going to be able to concentrate on this?” I waved the paperback at him as I settled, arranging the pillows behind me to sit against the headboard, exposing my naked core to him.
“If I’m going to concentrate on this,” he nodded to the easel, “I’m going to need to have you not look at me like you’re going to impale yourself on my cock.”
His voice was significantly less restrained than it had been moments ago.
My body quivered at his words as I struggled to hold my need back. I opened the book with shaking hands, smiling at him above the pages.
“I can’t make any promises,” I said seductively. “But I’ll try my best.”
Veins in his neck protruded as he held my gaze, not returning my smile. I’d never seen him smile, not once, just small twitches to his mouth.