Eight
Kyle
Light had been seeping in through the top of the window for hours, but I barely had the strength to lift my arms. Whatever they had drugged me with had to still be in my system. I had never been this exhausted from doing nothing.
At some point during the morning, Beard had delivered more food. This tray had a heaping pile of meat in a red sauce that was extra plastic-tasting, overcooked carrots, and a roll. Still no silverware. No napkin. Nothing to drink besides water from the sink. I’d been drinking the rusty liquid though. Garin said I had to. I needed to stay hydrated, or I’d get extremely sick. Sicker than I’d been the night before when I threw up my entire dinner.
When Beard dropped off the trays, he’d also given us a blanket. No pillows or cot or even a blow-up mattress. All we had for comfort was the cold concrete floor and a single gray wool blanket that stared at me from the corner of the room.
I was surprised Beard had been so giving after the confrontation he’d had with Garin. In his profession, maybe he was considered a forgiving man, or maybe he just wanted to give us one last luxury before he pulled the trigger.
Whatever the case was, we needed to get out of here.
And I told Garin that at least once an hour.
“I would kill for a popsicle and a fluffy pillow right now,” I said.
“That’s an odd craving.”
“My throat is on fire.”
It didn’t just hurt when I swallowed; it hurt constantly. I was sure it was from throwing up. I had retched so hard that I was surprised my chest wasn’t sore, and my eyes weren’t bloodshot. The reflection in the sink showed me they weren’t. But it had shown that I looked like a mess, which I’d done nothing to fix.
I was too tired.
“I can’t give you either, so how about you use my shoulder?”
I grinned. “I would love that.”
He grabbed the blanket and returned to my side of the room as I went over to the sink. I’d been sitting in these clothes since I arrived, and I hadn’t done more than swish a bunch of toothpaste around my mouth. I squirted some on the pad of my finger and took my time brushing it over the front and back of each tooth. Then, I used my nails to scrape in between them. When I was done, I soaped up my hands and rubbed them over my face, across my chest, and down each arm. It wasn’t nearly as good as taking a shower, but I was surprised at how much better I felt once I rinsed all the suds off.
Now facing Garin, I saw that he had opened up the blanket and spread it out over the floor, folding the top several times to make it thicker where our heads would lay. I hadn’t felt his eyes while I was washing up, but it was all I felt now.
“My turn.”
His hand grazed my waist as he passed me. It was brief. Gentle. Unneeded because there was enough room for him to walk by. I stopped breathing when I felt it. There wasn’t any panic this time, just a warm tingle that dipped between my thighs.
I hurried to the blanket and sat in the middle, unsure of which side he would want. I crossed my legs and tried to focus on my hands. He’d given me minutes of privacy whenever I’d asked for it by looking the other way. It was the least I could do for him. But when I heard the water turn on and his hands rub together, as though he were lathering the soap between them, I wanted to peek.
I put every bit of effort into keeping my face pointed down…but still, I glanced up.
His shirt was draped over the corner of the sink and his sudsy long, strong fingers were washing his neck. My eyes traveled to his forearms. They were covered in a dusting of dark hair, the grooves in his biceps and triceps so well defined. His shoulders were wide, squaring off the top of his back, and the muscles narrowed at his waist. From this angle, with his pants sitting low on his hips, I could only see the side of his abs. They were lightly covered in hair, and there was more across his chest.
“You’ve seen it all before.”
Now that he was looking at me dead-on, I saw the true sculpture of his muscles. They were tighter. Stronger. So much more powerful than I had thought.
How could something look so beautiful inside this cell?
I shook my head. “I haven’t seen that.”
“It’s just me, Kyle.”
“No.” I looked him over again. “It’s not just you. It’s a very different, very built, very manly version of you.”
He left his shirt on the sink and walked over to me, grabbing my hands and lifting me to my feet. He grasped my neck to hold my face steady, squeezing like he had outside the restroom at the bar.
“You’re a much different version of you, too, Kyle. You fought to get that business. You’re fiercely independent. You’re healthy. You take care of yourself. You can afford to, and you want to.”
Clearly, he didn’t know anything about me. I hadn’t fought, nor was I independent. But I couldn’t tell him any of that.
Discussing our weight was a much simpler and safer topic. “I was so skinny back then. We both were.”
“You were gorgeous back then. You’re even more gorgeous now. And this body”—his eyes dipped to my mouth—“is fucking perfect.” His hands moved down my sides, stopping at my waist, squeezing my hips. “You’ve filled out in all my favorite spots.” His body seemed to move closer, my chest pressing into him. “The ones I like to touch”—he leaned his face down, his lips kissing the outside of my neck—“and lick.”
A shiver ran through me when I exhaled. I didn’t know how I wasn’t naked already, stripped of everything, including my ability to make a decision. But, in my mind, there was no decision to be made. There was no guilt. No fear. Whatever Garin wanted to do to me, wherever he wanted to touch me, I wouldn’t deny him. I couldn’t. We’d gone through too much. We had survived The Heart. I had been pulled away from him, and we’d been brought back together and put in this cell. That all had to mean something.
“Let’s get some sleep,” he said.
He didn’t wait for me to answer before he slipped his body away from mine and sat me on the blanket. Then, he moved in behind me, his head resting on the makeshift pillow. “Come here.”
I kept my back to him and cuddled into his chest. He was so warm, his grip so strong in the way he held me. The scent of the soap was different on him than it was on my hands. It turned so masculine on his skin, tasty and almost erotic.
He slid me further back, our bodies now pressed together. He didn’t ask if I wanted to be moved. He just read me and gave me what I needed.
But he hadn’t given me everything.
Everything would have been his mouth on mine.
Maybe it wasn’t time for that just yet. Maybe this wasn’t the right place for it. Maybe I was losing focus and should have been concentrating on how we were going to get out of here instead of how good Garin’s arms felt. But he had said he was going to work on an escape plan, and he promised he was going to get us out of here.
And, in the meantime, his embrace and his presence were the only two things that made this feel good. Without one, there was no other.
“I think they’re going to give us some answers soon.”
His voice startled me.
“How do you know?”
“I know the game.”
The whiskers from his chin brushed across the back of my neck. It reminded me of the nights I had stayed in his bedroom, how the sound of his breathing was enough to put me to sleep.
“I just wanted to warn you. You’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
You’ll be fine.
I closed my eyes as the light above us hummed and flickered. I blocked it out and focused on sleep.
Focused on his breathing.
Focused on the way he rubbed my hand.
Sleep well, Kyle.