“Now,” she groaned.

Nick put his hands beneath the curve of her ass and lifted. Roslyn’s legs went around his waist. He turned so he could set her back against the smooth wooden pantry door. The feel of his hard c**k sliding against her pu**y had him seeing stars and discovering God or something. She felt divine.

Her breath hit his ear in warm little puffs and her arms wrapped tighter around him. Cut off his airflow a little, but who cared. He lifted her high enough to guide the head of his c**k to her and she took him. Sank down on him slowly, engulfing him in the tight clasp of her body.

A long, breathy moan left her and his legs shook.

Yes. Fuck yes.

He withdrew and thrust back into her. And again. And then they were off, with the hard and fast drive of his body into hers and the sound of flesh slapping. He couldn’t seem to slow, to go easy, when he knew he should. Knew without a doubt he should, but his hands were filled with her gorgeous rear and her body trembled against him. He f**ked her like a man possessed and she took it. Spurred him on by panting and moaning in his ear. Sweat slicked their skin and the scent of sex hung heavy in the air.

Nothing had ever felt this right. This necessary.

Fast, hard and perfect, with the cupboard door knocking out a protest every time he thrust into her and the chain jangling.

Her heels dug into his ass and her fingernails sunk into his skin. She said his name like it was a curse. He loved it. Her head lolled back against the cupboard door. She was close. She was whimpering and he couldn’t hold out much longer the way his balls were climbing up into his body. He shifted the angle slightly. Enough to ensure he was raking over her cl*t on each withdrawal. A strangled noise filled his ear and her pu**y clamped down on him. There we go. No chance of holding out. No control, but then there never had been.

Not with her. Not possible.

He came and came. Fingers clutching at her, half scared he’d drop her or something. He growled through gritted teeth and clung onto her like she was the only thing left.

Like she was everything.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Roslyn lay wide awake, staring into space and watching the flickering light of the candles on the wall.

She’d had sex with Nick.

Rough, raw, animal sex.

It had shaken her tiny world apart, blown it to smithereens.

Thank God she was still on birth control. Neither of them had stopped to think of donning a condom. She was never so careless. Never. But then, she’d never had sex like that. Mind-blowing sex. Fucking.

No excuse.

She’d come so hard. Her body still hummed, satiated and pumped full of happy hormones. They weren’t doing their job, though, not even a little. She was miserable. Her chest felt hot and hard, her eyes itchy, ready to explode into tears at a moment’s notice.

How could she?

She’d had sex with Nick and there was no excuse. There were no gray areas. You didn’t f**k the man who kept you captive. What kind of woman did that? Fell for her abductor. No, damn it, it was so wrong she couldn’t comprehend it. It filled her with disgust and covered her in self-loathing.

Sure as hell, it couldn’t happen again.

He was asleep against her back with an arm thrown over her waist. For a long time he’d toyed with her fingers, stroked her arm. Neither of them had said a word. Complete silence, apart from the occasional pop and sizzle of the wood in the pot-belly stove. Even the rain had stopped a while back.

It was mid-afternoon. Hard to tell exactly with the cabin all closed up. The scent of him seemed to be reaching out to her, trying to tantalize or comfort or something. The want to close her eyes and breathe him in deep horrified her. She hated herself for how she wanted him. For giving in to him. He’d never let her go now. She’d never be free to make her own choices ever again and it was all her own weak-willed fault. Somehow, he’d disarmed her, which meant her armor was made of flimsy stuff indeed.

She shifted and the chain clinked, reminding her of its presence. He’d said the key was in his back pocket. His jeans were on the kitchen floor. He’d stripped off fully after sex and undressed her as much as possible without taking off the chain. If only he’d taken it off her. Maybe then she’d have felt differently.

She sucked in a deep breath and held it as her mind reeled. The key. She could escape. She had to. To stay locked up like this was out of the question. She had to get out.

And if he woke she’d say she was going to the toilet or something.

Yeah. Great. All set. Bloody hell.

She could do this. First she eased a little way across the mattress and rolled gradually onto her back. No rush. Nice and easy. Now she could see him. Eyes closed, and his breathing deep and even. Some strange frisson went through her at the sight of him: fine, firm lips and straight nose, the hollows in his cheeks. It hurt to look at him. This situation wasn’t tenable. Nobody could live like this.

He looked different fast asleep. Unguarded. She’d never seen him like this before. Her anger evaporated. It had fortified her for so long that its absence left a gaping hole. He looked so alone in the bed without her. The sight of him hurt her heart. People always talked about sex making them feel closer to someone. In all honesty, she’d never felt that before today. The connection had never seemed especially profound, not until Nick. How f**king unfair.

But she couldn’t stay.

Roslyn shut her eyes and gathered her reserves. Slowly she extricated herself. Every rustle of the sheets and clank of the chain seemed magnified tenfold. He didn’t stir. First one foot touched the ground, then the second. Her body slid out from beneath his hand and she sat up, then stood.