Beneath The Surface by Abbi Cook

Author:Abbi Cook [Cook, Abbi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dark Vine Media LLC
Published: 2020-04-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Lily

Next to me, Cason makes a low noise and then moves to roll over onto his side. It sounds like a small growl from a contented animal, but I can’t let myself get lulled into a false sense of security. He is still very much the man who’s repeatedly threatened to kill me, no matter what he promised last night.

I have no reason to believe he isn’t the same killer he proudly claims to be, no matter what he said after we slept together. He is that man, and I’m still in as much danger as I was when he tied me up in that chair in his apartment.

So I have to find a way to escape.

His chest expands and contracts as I watch to see if he’s truly sleeping. Every inch of my body is on edge as I slowly back away from him. Instantly, I miss his warmth.

I can’t think like that. A moment’s comfort can easily turn into an hour’s pain. I just have to get away from this place and then everything will be okay. Of course, that’s assuming the fence isn’t electrified.

No. I can’t think about that either. The fear of being fried like a mosquito on a bug zapper can’t be the reason I stay here. Somehow, I’ll get around the fence. It might not even be electrified. Maybe Cason only said that to scare me into not even trying to get away. That would make sense.

He stops breathing for a moment, and I hold my breath while I wait for him to say something. Is he awake? I watch for a second and then another and then finally he exhales as relief washes over me.

I can’t wait forever. I have to take a chance. The worst that happens if he wakes up is he thinks I’m going to the bathroom and I have to wait for a little while longer.

But no matter what, I have to try to get away tonight.

Cason rolls over onto his back, so I quickly drop my head onto the pillow and shut my eyes. I hear him breathing, in and out and in and out, and gradually I open my right eye to check if he’s asleep.

He looks like he’s out. Slowly, I sit up next to him, letting my gaze roam over his naked torso down to where the white bedsheet drapes across his hips. While his chest expands, the muscles in his abdomen gently ripple under his skin, and then the whole thing repeats when he lets out the air from his lungs.

Asleep, he looks like a warrior lying there covered in tattoos, his body tight and toned. I imagine more than one woman has watched him sleep like this and thought how lucky they were to get to be with him.

But he’s no warrior. There’s no nobility in him. He’s just a killer, and I can’t forget that. Even though I can’t forget how he’s made my body come alive.

That doesn’t matter. It can’t. Bodies lie, or at least mine does.

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