Captive by Trevion Burns

Author:Trevion Burns [Burns, Trevion]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-07-30T18:30:00+00:00

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He would never kiss her again. Of that much, Mia was sure. She couldn’t even blame him for it. If it had been her that had gotten a nail to the neck, seconds after giving him a blowjob, she would never bother kissing him again, either. If anything, she’d make a silent vow to hate him for the rest of her life. Add in the idea of him neglecting to return the sexual favor she’d just delivered—quite eagerly in fact—with her mouth, and she might just have to kill him! She looked across the small wooden dining table, where Linc sat in nothing but a towel. He leaned forward on the table with the phone they’d tussled over the night before in his hand, frowning at the screen.

She frowned at him.

Did he hate her guts?

Could she even blame him if he did?

Sure, they’d woken up that morning hand-in-hand in bed, but that didn’t mean anything. It was human nature to crave to touch of other humans, after all. The fact that their hands had found each other in the deepest depths of sleep when neither of them had any control over it, didn’t matter. What mattered were the choices he’d made once they were fully conscious. And, in his consciousness, Linc had yet to touch her. He’d barely even looked at her. Not after they’d both showered, leaving only white terry-cloth towels donning their bodies—Linc’s tied around his waist and hers at her breasts. Not even the thought of her naked underneath that towel seemed to erase the memory of the nail she’d put in his neck.

She wondered if anything would. If she’d ever know the feeling of that beard—still slightly damp from his shower—tickling her upper lip. Of his long mane, also still damp and stretching past his collarbones, tangled in her fingers. As her stomach raged with butterflies at the memory of his tongue, lashing with hers during their first kiss, she nearly cursed herself for screwing up so badly. So badly that not even the breakfast she’d cooked for him after waking up a few hours earlier had gotten her back on his good side. A breakfast that he’d destroyed, leaving both their plates empty on the table after he’d finished his plate and hers.

The flavor of the re-heatable sausage, biscuits and orange juice she’d found in the mostly-empty freezer still lingered on her tongue as her eyes ran him across the table, always amazed at his ripped body. His six-pack abs were just as taut as ever, showing no signs of the massive meal he’d just demolished. Neither did his washboard pecs, hulking biceps, and broad shoulders, all of which seemed to be flexing and relaxing, over and over, just to torture her. Just to remind her how royally she’d screwed up. Whatever godly sculptor had gone at him with a chisel and mallet on the day he’d been born was surely shaking his head at her from up above too. Deeming her completely unworthy of

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