With Marcos dead, I didn’t understand why he seemed so worried, but it was clear he didn’t think the entire threat had been neutralized. Had Marcos merely been one of several? Did other sick and powerful men know about me? I’d learned I was supposed to have been Derek’s revenge but was there more to it?—others who wanted to see my father pay for his sins? The thought sent a shiver down my spine and made my hands fly faster across my skin. I was suddenly anxious to be on our way, too, putting as much distance between me and whatever men still might be hoping to use me in their vengeful plans.

As soon as I was done, I shut off the water and toweled off as quickly as I could. My clothes were in the other room though. I thought about wrapping the towel around me, but it almost seemed silly to cover up in front of Derek. He’d seen every part of me—what did I have left to hide?

Leaving the towel, I walked out intending to retrieve my clothes from the bag he’d stored them in, but the bag was gone. The room was spotless, and Derek was nowhere to be seen. No note on the table. He was just gone. Had he let me after all?

A pain shot through my heart at the thought, and I stood there, staring at the table as if I could make a note materialize out of sheer will. A note to say he’d gone on a coffee run or went to get gas for the car, or snacks for the road. Anything.

No note appeared on the table. The pain in my chest increased as if someone was squeezing my heart.

I wasn’t prepared for it when the door swung open. Derek walked in, and the sob I’d been holding back came out like a strangled cry. I wanted to drop to my knees, rush into his arms and collapse in a big ball of crazy, all at the same time. I settled for standing there as he approached while my bottom lip trembled like a child.

“What’s wrong, Pet?” he asked, running his hands over me, not seductively, but like he was searching for some physical injury to explain what was going on.

“Nothing’s wrong. I came out and you weren’t here, and there was no note, so I thought you’d left.” I rushed, and then finished with a ridiculous sniffle. Great. I sounded like an overgrown child with some serious separation issues.

He smiled, though his eyes looked sad, and he pulled me against him and rubbed my upper back soothingly. The wounds across my lower back had already begun to heal, but still, he seemed careful of them.

“I just went to put our things in the car. I would never…” He let his words trail off because we both knew they weren’t true. In reality, if he knew without a doubt I’d be safe, I think he would have left. Not because he didn’t care about me—I had to believe he did—but because he believed what I felt for him was all a result of my time in captivity.

That’s why I looked for a note any time he went out, and that was why I was quick to assume he’d left when there was none. I had a feeling if I didn’t change his mind about the source of my feelings for him, one of these days when I no longer needed to be protected, he would be gone.

I clung to him now, as if by doing so I could keep him here forever, but reason returned quickly. I knew we couldn’t linger any longer. I had delayed him by hours already. I could only hope he was wrong about the need to keep running.

“I’m all right,” I said in the most ‘all right’ voice I could muster.

“Good,” he replied as he dropped his arms to his sides. “Because if you don’t get dressed right now, we’re going to have another delay we can’t afford.”

I glanced down automatically to discover he wasn’t joking. His growing erection was already visible against his pants. Man, the Energizer Bunny had nothing on him. And as much as I wanted to pursue that line of thought, I couldn’t. We needed to leave.

I stepped back and saw the clothes he’d brought back with him from the car. He’d dropped them on the floor when he saw me standing there, sobbing like a fool.

I retrieved them from the floor and held them awkwardly for a moment before I slipped them on. It was still strange—maybe it always would be—but I felt the compulsion to drop to my knees more than usual as if I had to atone for covering myself up.

That was ridiculous, of course. Derek was the one who wanted me to put the clothes on, needed me to, in fact, so we could get the hell out of here.

I stood there waiting while he did a quick sweep of the room. Satisfied we were leaving no traces of our stay behind, he took my hand in his and led me out the door and into the car he’d pulled up to the curb of the motel room’s front walk. He was tense. Even if I hadn’t been able to see the way he was scanning our surroundings, I’d know it by the way it radiated from his body.

I didn’t want to know what threats were still out there, but maybe it was time to stop being such a coward and find out. If I knew what—or who—he was looking for, maybe I could even help. Something to focus on other than the batshit craziness that swirled around in my head constantly—oh, what sweet relief.

He slipped into the driver’s seat and pulled out of the parking lot. I took a deep breath and tried to steel myself against the desire to scrunch down in the seat and pretend nothing was out there. Nothing was hunting us. Nothing was waiting around the corner to take me away from him, or to take him away from me. It was foolish to think we were safe. Just days ago, he’d killed a man—for me. A man who was obviously very powerful. How many loyal followers did Marcos have who would seek to avenge his death?

“Derek…” I flinched at using his name. Would he be angry? Pleased? Oh hell, the craziness was tiring! Time to pull it together and keep talking. “Who’s following us?”

“Hopefully no one,” he said as he reached for my hand without taking his eyes off the road.

“But if we weren’t being so hopeful…Who?”

He heaved a heavy sigh but didn’t respond. He was silent for so long I figured he wasn’t going to, but then he did.

“A lot of people worked for Marcos, some of them very devoted. It’s unlikely they’d connect his death with me, but it will be suspicious that I’ve disappeared. And the transaction…he’d already finished negotiating the agreement. The buyer was…quite eager.”

“…to buy me,” I finished the thought he’d likely had no intention of finishing.

It was true though. There was a man out there somewhere who’d seen pictures of me—or videos, or however it worked—and purchased me like a piece of furniture. I might still have been angry at Derek, but I was also well aware that he could have just as easily let it happen. He could have let that man come and take me away. Hell, he could have gift wrapped me with a giant fucking bow on my head. If he had, he wouldn’t have to be on the run now, keeping watch for men who might very well be hunting him down to kill him.

Should I demand he takes me back? Demand he tells Marcos’ loyal followers that he caught me trying to escape after killing the man? It was possible that might eliminate the threat to his life, but it wasn’t possible I could make him do it. I knew he wouldn’t. Whatever it was that had changed him, there was no going back.

How long would we be on the run though? Once we reached a certain distance, would we be safe then? Or would they stop looking for us after so much time had passed? The dark scowl on Derek’s face made me think I didn’t want to pry for more answers right now. We were together. That’s all that mattered.

I turned to stare out the window, watching the landscape on the side of the highway zip by in a blur. Just a few, short days ago, I’d thought I might never see outside again. Now, I’d be quite content to find a tiny place somewhere that would swallow us up and keep us hidden from any threat out there.

I started to watch every car behind us in the side mirror, looking for telltale signs that we were being followed, but I had no idea what I was looking for. Black cars?—the bad guy always drove sleek, black cars in the movies, didn’t they? Or what about cars that stayed too close, tailing us? Was that a sign of imminent danger? Because I counted three black cars at various distances behind us, and the old lady in the car behind us seemed dangerously close to riding on our bumper. Somehow I couldn’t envision her as one of Marcos’ loyal disciples, but could she be?

I stopped looking out the window.

I needed some kind of distraction. I glanced at the radio console in front of me, but I couldn’t quite bring my hand to turn it on without permission.

“Did you want some music?”

“Yes, please.” How did he do that? Was it some sort of extra-sensory, mind-reading ability? What else could explain the way he seemed to know everything I was thinking?

Instead of turning on the radio though, he waved his hand in front of the console, motioning for me to put something on. My anxiety level soared through the roof. I had no idea what kind of music he liked now. I’d grown accustomed to having no choices, to having every decision made for me. Picking a radio station felt like a monumental task. Would he punish me if chose wrong?

Stop it, I chastised myself. He wasn’t going to punish me. In the motel room, he’d made it quite clear he was never going to do anything like that again. The same disappointment I’d felt then washed over me again, and chaos reigned supreme. I was terrified of his punishments one second, and longing for them the next. Perfect. I really was going batshit crazy. Someday soon, I was going to need a whole lot of therapy.

When I made no move to turn on the radio, he did it for me and then flipped through the stations.

“Wait,” I blurted out when he pressed the button to skip past a song I remembered him listening to often in his room a long time ago. I covered my mouth, but instead of getting angry, he pressed the button to go back to the previous station. The notes of ‘In the End’ filled the car. I couldn’t help but smile sadly, remembering him sprawled out on the floor in his room, homework in front of him and singing along with Lincoln Park.

“You remember this?” he asked, a new kind of tension in his voice, though I had no idea what had sparked it. Anger? Memories?

“Yes,” I whispered, trying to make myself as unobtrusive as possible. He said nothing else. He cranked up the volume and turned his attention back to the road. He didn’t change the station when the next song came on or the next. We listened to the music in what passed for contented silence.

Three hours passed that way, and by the time he pulled off the highway and into a gas station, it was taking all my concentration not to fidget in the seat. My bladder was ready to explode.

Instead of pulling up to the gas bar though, he passed it and parked in front of the small store where the attendant was.

“Wait here,” he said and left before I could respond.

Oh god, I should have told him I needed to use the bathroom because there might just be a puddle on my seat by the time he returned.

Fortunately, I was still hanging on when he came back a moment later and opened my door. He reached for my hand expectantly and I went with him when he pulled me out.

“Sorry, I should have stopped sooner,” he said with an apologetic grin while he guided me to the door marked “Ladies” behind the store.

One of these days, I was going to find a way to keep something from him, but right then I was grateful for his intuition. He unlocked the door but stepped ahead of me when I went to walk in. I followed behind him, more than accustomed to this lack of privacy.

As I moved to the toilet though, he slipped back toward the door and opened it. A new punishment? A new humiliation? I tried to swallow back a sob while my fingers lingered in the waist of my pants.

“I just wanted to make sure it was safe. I’m going to get some gas and I’ll be right outside when you’re finished.” He kissed the top of my head and left, closing the door behind him.

I followed him out a couple minutes later after taking an extra minute to splash some water on my face. True to his word, the car was right outside the bathroom and he was leaning against the passenger side door. God, he looked sexy as hell.

It didn’t escape my notice that I wasn’t the only one thinking that. I caught a young woman gawking at him from inside the store out the corner of my eye, and another one was standing at her car, gas pump in hand, just staring at him.

A tiny thrill shivered down my spine knowing he was mine—this man who no doubt drew appreciative glances from women everywhere he went.

How long would I be able to keep his attention though? Was I just a toy he would one day grow tired of and move on? Even if I was more than that to him, I had no illusions that Derek had a wealth of sexual experience. He hadn’t gotten that from a monogamous relationship.

And then he crossed the distance between us and kissed me so deeply, so thoroughly, I felt it all the way to the tips of my toes. By the time he let me up for air, the looks on the women’s faces had turned to jealous glares. I couldn’t help but smile smugly.

“Satisfied?” he asked with a cocked brow and a smirk.

Damn him! He knew exactly what I’d been thinking. I was tempted to glare at him, but I smiled sweetly instead while he opened the door for me. I turned to slide in and felt the stinging slap of his hand against my backside a second later. I let out a squeak—yes, I admit I sounded just like a mouse—while ripples of desire surged between my thighs. God, I didn’t want to like it when he spanked me, but I really fucking did.

“What was that for?” I asked breathlessly.

“For thinking, you had any reason to worry about those women or any others,” he whispered against my ear, presumably to keep ‘those women’ from overhearing him.

A delicious shiver raced down my spine in response to his nearness and his breath against my heated skin.

“Now, get your hot little ass in the car and take your pants off,” he demanded in the same whisper.

Right here? In the parking lot with people all around?

I slipped into my seat obediently, taking this one step at a time. He looked at me, cocking an eyebrow expectantly. My breathing was coming faster, but I could tell it wasn’t entirely a result of fear or embarrassment. The idea of him taking me right here, with those women watching and seeing how thoroughly he belonged to me…

With conflicting emotions, I slipped my fingers into the waist of my pants and arched my body up to slide them down.

He closed the door and it was only then I remembered the windows were tinted. The only one that wasn’t was the windshield and the position of the people around meant they would have a very limited view. Once again, relief and disappointment surged through me in equal measures. Would anything ever be simple again?

I kicked off my shoes and slid off the pants, leaving them bunched on the floor. He opened the driver’s side door and got in so fast he had the door closed before anyone could have seen my state of semi-undress.

Instead of touching me though, he revved the engine and shot out of the parking lot. We were back on the highway two minutes later, and I was just as confused as ever.

“Touch your pussy, Pet,” he said.

My mouth gaped open even as my obedient fingers moved to comply.

“I really want to touch you and taste you right now, but I have to drive, so I want you to finger yourself until you come and then give me your wet fingers.”

I should have been flaming with embarrassment, not sliding my fingers between my lips and delving into my center. But that was precisely what I was doing, and I was already wet with arousal. I slid a finger into my sex over and over again slowly while I watched him. His eyes moved back and forth between the road and the apex of my thighs.

“Open your legs wider and put your feet on the console,” he said, his voice already huskier.

I complied and the exposed position granted me better access. I picked up my pace, pressing the ball of my hand against my clit with every thrust. We went over a bump that slammed my hand hard against my clit, and a loud moan filled the car.

It wasn’t long before my pace was frantic, slamming instead of plunging inside me. Sweat trickled down the back of my neck. I was gripping the seat with my free hand while my feet tried to dig grooves into the console. It shook me hard and fast when my orgasm tore through my body and blazed a trail from my core to the top of my head and the tips of my toes.

I was just leaving the tight sheath of my sex when his hand shot out and grabbed mine. He pulled it to his lips and sucked my finger into his mouth, lapping with his tongue to clean off every drop of me there.

I started to lower my legs back to the floor of the car, but he stopped me with a shake of his head. I didn’t understand why until one of his hands left the wheel and replaced where my finger had been. He groaned with the first stroke inside me, and then slid out until only his fingertip remained inside. Back in, and then out, while the aftershocks of my orgasm continued to grip him rhythmically.

“Do you have any idea how sexy you look when you come?”

“Yes, Master.” I couldn’t deny that the girl in the headboard mirror earlier had been a sight to behold.

His finger stilled inside me and he closed his eyes before I realized my mistake. Of course, his expression was impossible to read, though it didn’t look like his arousal had diminished any. Feeling bolder and not wanting him to stop I wriggled further down to impale myself on his finger.

He groaned, but his finger withdrew from me. He placed his hand on his thigh and kept his attention on the road. I wished I could disappear into the seat, but I remained there, unmoving. I wanted to at least close my thighs and put my legs down, but he hadn’t said I could. So, could I? Was this a punishment for slipping up and calling him ‘master’? Had he simply forgotten the position he’d had me assume? Or was he expecting that I’d figure out on my own I could put my legs down? If that was it, obviously he’d never been on the receiving end of his belt before.

So, I sat there in the obscene position, staring out unseeing at the scenery that whizzed by. My eyes were blurry with tears, but I held them there.

“You can put your legs down, Scar. You don’t need my permission,” he said gently. He didn’t sound angry with me—that was good.

I did as he said, realizing it was exactly that—I was doing what he said to do, not making the decision for myself. But since what he was telling me to do aligned with my own wishes at the moment, I wasn’t going to quibble over the details.

I went back to staring out the window, still glancing occasionally in the side mirror for signs of followers. I figured though until I saw a guy leaning out his car window with a gun aimed at us, I probably wasn’t going to be of much use as a lookout.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Scar, put your pants back on before I drag you over here and fuck you senseless,” his voice boomed in the otherwise silent vehicle and I jolted in my seat. Thank god we’d stopped for a bathroom break already.

A ripple of arousal coursed through me at his words, but I did as he said because I didn’t imagine it would be terribly safe to drive and fuck at the same time.

I fidgeted in the seat once dressed, still finding clothes uncomfortable. I couldn’t wait for the next time we stopped for the night and I could take them off again.

“Tell me about you,” he said in a tone that was moderately more controlled than it had been a moment before.

“What is it you want to know?” I asked, not certain how to respond. There really wasn’t much to tell.

“Fuck, I don’t know. What’s your favorite movie?”

My favorite movie? It was such a normal question it caught me off-guard. “Lord of the Rings,” I blurted out without having to think about it. The movie was good, but it was the characters that made the film. Each one of them, no matter how small their role, could warrant a featurette of their own.

Then I ventured to return the question. “What about you? What’s yours?”

“I haven’t watched a movie since I was barely thirteen years old. I do recall my favorite at the time was any movie with breasts.” He grinned devilishly.

I giggled—yes, just like a schoolgirl. But what he said brought my thoughts back to that time, to the reason he’d stopped being a normal kid who watched movies on Friday nights. He was an adult now though, not subservient to anyone. And yet, he hadn’t watched a single movie?

Right. The reason hit me hard. He’d had far more entertaining pastimes to bother with mundane things like movies—such as turning girls like me into pleasure slaves. I couldn’t help but imagine him with them—hurting them, kissing them, touching…fucking them.

My head filled with doubts, not only because I couldn’t possibly keep his attention for long, but because of what it was that might draw it elsewhere. What if that life had been a part of him for so long that he couldn’t just walk away from it?

“Help keep me focused here, Pet,” his voice broke through the panic, but the words were fuzzy.

“What?”

He chuckled. “Favorite book?”

OK. Books. Oh, but how could I possibly answer that? “I don’t have a favorite, or, they’re all my favorites, I suppose.”

“You really like to read.” His eyes were slightly unfocused as if he was remembering back to something, but I had no idea what.

“Yes,” I admitted, feeling like I was opening up some part of me to him. I hadn’t realized there was anything about me left to open up. He’d controlled everything, even making my body respond when I hadn’t wanted it to. It felt like he’d taken every part of me, but it turned out I’d been wrong. There were still pieces of me he’d never seen, most of them small and meaningless on their own, but significant when all put together.

Did I want to show those things?—hand over the private parts of me, he’d never accessed? “They were like best friends.” I felt my mouth form the words and heard my voice speak them before I’d made a conscious decision. No point in holding back now. “They would tell me their stories, and I’d live every high and low with them.” I shrugged, trying to downplay the significance of those—my only—friends.

“I read your journal,” he blurted out as if the words had escaped unbidden just like mine had. “I shouldn’t have done it, and I’m sorry. And I know it’s completely fucked up to be apologizing for that after everything else I’ve done to you…”

My cheeks flamed, remembering all too clearly the things I’d written in that book. Still, nothing had forced him to tell me. Nothing could force Derek to do anything he didn’t want to do. “Thank you.”

“What?” It was his turn to look dumbfounded for a change, though he had it covered up in three seconds flat. Still, it was a victory. More than worth the cost of the privacy he’d invaded. And a victory I was damn well going to savor. I didn’t even try to fight the Cheshire cat grin.

“You didn’t have to tell me, but you did. It mattered to you that you felt you’d invaded my privacy.”

“It was all true, wasn’t it?” he asked, his voice quiet again, almost as if he hoped I wouldn’t hear him.

My smile faded. Of course, it was all true, but I figured I knew what he was really asking. I’d only written about Derek’s father once in that stupid journal, but if he hadn’t known about the things the man had done, it must have come as a shock, possibly one he wished he could disprove. I could do that, couldn’t I?—tell him it had been a lie? It was tempting. I didn’t want to shatter the image of the only family he’d ever known. After the hell he’d been through, didn’t he deserve that image?

He nodded before I’d said a word. “That’s what I thought.”

Damn. Damn. Damn. If the man wasn’t so god damned perceptive, I could have given him that image.

The conversation died away after that. I was caught up in memories of that damn book, all the things I’d written in it, and the day my father had found it. I’d been late coming home from school in my senior year. I’d stayed afterward at the teacher’s request to discuss college applications because he’d noticed I hadn’t applied anywhere.

By the time I got home, my dad had ransacked my room looking for an explanation of my whereabouts. It would have taken one-hundredth of the effort to pick up the phone and call the school, but there’d been no point in making mention of that. He’d tossed the one lipstick I’d worked up the nerve to buy into the trash can and he stood in the doorway to my room, holding my journal open in one hand.

He’d made me stand there and listen while he read aloud every line, and then he hadn’t said another word to me for weeks. He wore the same disgusted expression every time he looked at me though.

Lulled by the gentle vibrations of the car engine, I must have fallen asleep at some point because when I opened my eyes next, we were at another fast food stop and Derek was opening the passenger door. I’d been dreaming, and it took a moment to separate myself from the images in my head. I hadn’t been dreaming about James. I’d been dreaming about Derek. He had me shackled to the bedpost, whipping me before he dropped the whip on the ground and shoved his cock into my sopping wet sex. He was my captor again, but I never wanted to escape.

He reached into the car to take my hand, but as I shifted my thighs to slide out, it was clear that my body’s response hadn’t been confined to the dream. I could feel the slippery proof of my arousal on my inner thighs as I stood up.

He led us to the washrooms in the store first, and he insisted on checking the stalls, but then he left me to use the men’s room next door. Afterward, he ordered our food to go like before, but we didn’t drive far again before pulling off the road into some secluded area. I looked up at him, perplexed, but it seemed as if he was deliberately not acknowledging me there. His jaw was clamped tight but there were no other outward signs anything was wrong.

I almost said it again—especially after the recent dream, ‘master’ was on the tip of my tongue. But I swallowed it back. “Derek?”

He parked the car and got out without responding, but he was at my door two seconds later. He reached for the bag of food with one hand and my wrist with the other and yanked me out. I couldn’t stop the tremor that rippled through my body. No warning signals were sounding in my head, but something was definitely wrong. Had we been spotted? Did we have to abandon the car? But he brought me with him to the trunk of the car and then stopped.

“Eat,” he demanded, thrusting the bag at me.

What had I done? And whatever it was, food seemed like an odd punishment.

“I’m not punishing you, Pet.”

Of course, he knew what I was thinking.

“I’m going to fuck you, and you haven’t eaten since this morning. But Christ, do you have any idea the sexy sounds you make when you’re sleeping?”

The tremors transformed into tendrils of heat. I’d seen him aroused through plenty of my punishments. So it had been no surprise to see it there now. Food didn’t hold much appeal in comparison to what he had planned, but I opened the bag and peered inside, pulling out a package of fries obediently.

I still didn’t like this part. It felt strange to eat in front of him. I wanted to feel his fingers brushing my lips when he placed the food in my mouth. This is what he wanted though, so I did it, spurred on by what I knew was coming next. I must have been making progress because I could feel his eyes on me, and yet I kept eating.

Halfway through the fries, he yanked them away, stuffed them in the bag. “Face the car and put your hands on the trunk.”

I obeyed while my sex throbbed in anticipation of what was to come. I inhaled and exhaled slowly, waiting.

Waiting.

Why wasn’t he shoving my pants down and fucking me?

Waiting.

I was strung taut, vibrating with sexual energy. Waiting. He was near. I could feel the heat of his body.

His fingers brushed over my nipple and my whole body jerked at the unexpected contact. A startled moan escaped my lips, but then his fingers disappeared again.

“What’s the matter, Pet?” he crooned against my ear.

“I want…” I had to clear my throat because it was suddenly so dry. “I want you to do what you said.”

“Why?”

Why? That wasn’t along the lines of his usual questions. “Because I want to feel you inside me.”

Both his hands were on me then, cupping my breasts through my shirt and rolling my nipples between his fingers. My head rolled back and I tried to angle toward his lips.

He turned away. “Eyes forward,” he whispered. “Now, tell me why?”

Again with ‘why’! He was punishing me for something because this felt like torture.

When I didn’t respond, he clamped down on my nipples. Pain shot through me, but it wasn’t pain, at least not by the time the sensation reached the apex of my thighs and made the sensitive bundle of nerves there throb harder.

“Why?” he demanded. “Is it because I’m master here, and you can’t refuse me?”

“No,” I replied honestly, and then I ventured further, hoping I wasn’t treading on quicksand. “You…you wouldn’t make me. I know that. I want this.”

One of his hands slid down inside my pants and pressed against my clit. The arousal made me bolder, freer with my thoughts. “I want you. When you’re inside me, I feel…complete. Whole.”

He whipped my pants down so fast, they must have left rug burn—not that I would have noticed. Because a split second later, he was ramming inside me, filling every empty inch of me. His thrusts were hard, frenzied, and he held onto my hips for leverage. I held onto the trunk as best I could, but I didn’t need to—he wouldn’t let me fall.

I was climbing fast. He slammed into me again and again. I could feel every thrust against my cervix. It should have hurt. Maybe it did, but it only drove me higher.

“Tell me why,” he ground out against my ear before nipping it firmly between his teeth.

Moments away from yet another earth-shattering orgasm, it took a minute to figure out what he meant.

One hand left my hip and I felt the sting of his slap against my backside. My hips jerked as the sensation fed my arousal.

“Why?” he reiterated and then sunk his teeth into my shoulder, not deep enough to draw blood but enough to bring me dangerously close to toppling headlong over the edge.

“I want this. I want you inside me. I want you touching me, fucking me…hurting me.” Confessions were easy when every brain cell was preoccupied with mind-numbing pleasure.

He groaned and his hand returned to my hip, gripping me hard enough to add fuel to the fire. God, it was just too much. My body exploded, and I cried out as I quivered and quaked through every shockwave of pleasure that coursed through me. A moment later, he groaned through his own intense release.

He remained there, wrapping an arm possessively around my waist and leaving a luxurious trail of kisses across the backs of my shoulders. I had no interest in moving—maybe ever.

It seemed a reluctant move when he withdrew, and then he straightened our clothing and pulled me back against his chest. He dug into the paper bag, helped himself to one of the burgers and nodded for me to take the other.

It was so calm and peaceful, wrapped in a one-armed embrace with my cheek against his solid chest. I wanted it to continue. I didn’t want to think about running and hiding from bad men, or how to fit myself back into the person I’d been. I wanted the calm I’d felt when I had knelt between his thighs and he stroked my face while he fed me. “Please,” I whispered, making no move to reach for the bag myself.

He looked even more reluctant now, but eventually, he nodded and led me around to the open passenger door. He sat in the seat with his legs on the ground outside the car, his thighs parted, waiting for me to fill the empty space.

I knelt down and nuzzled my cheek against his thigh and opened my mouth when he’d torn off a piece of his burger and held it to my lips. I sighed content, at peace, and knowing without a doubt now that I was one fucked up girl.

But I had time to put myself back together. I wasn’t for sale. I was his, and if I could convince him I wasn’t your run-of-the-mill Stockholm sufferer, he would be there to help me figure out how all the pieces fit. Asking him to feed me like this probably hadn’t been a good idea in hindsight, but this would be the last time. From here on out, I intended to start working on the jigsaw puzzle of pieces so I could stop worrying about him leaving the moment he believed I was safe.

I needed time to be angry and time to heal, but most of all, I needed to know Derek would still be here when I was done.