Kidnapped

Chapter Five - Bound and Gagged.

When I wake, I'm surprised to find myself on my side, one hand still pinned above my head in the cuff, but my other arm draped across his chest, my hand resting gently against his face. His body is pressed up against mine, and I wonder if I found him in the night-or if he had pulled closer to me.

I curl my fingers, tracing his cheek with the tips of my fingers, and his eyes slowly flutter open. He tilts his head slightly, catching my gaze through sleepy eyes. I don't smile, but he does, a soft curve of his lips.

"Good morning," he murmurs, stretching lazily.

I study his face in silence for a moment before withdrawing my hand, folding it against my chest. His brow quirks up.

"No 'good morning' for me?" he asks, a hint of teasing in his voice.

"I want to call my mom," I say, my voice quieter than I intended.

His smile fades slightly as he pushes himself up on one elbow, rubbing his face. "Your mom, huh?" He sounds surprised, almost disbelieving. I nod. "Not your dad-just your mom?"

I shake my head, firm. "Not Frank. Just my mom."

He shifts to face me more fully, his eyes sharper now. "Frank, huh? Not your dad, then?"

"No." I feel my body tense, my hand tightening around the fabric of my shirt.

"Mom's lover, then? You don't like him?" His voice dips, reading the tension in mine.

"No," I mutter.

"Did he hurt you or something?" he asks, his tone quieter, but I can't quite tell if he cares or if he's prying. My eyes fall to the bed between us.

There's a beat of silence before he speaks again, this time casually, "Want me to kill him?"

My heart skips, and I stare at him, unsure if he's joking. "Would you really do that?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. "If I asked you to, would you actually kill him?"

He laughs softly, leaning closer, his thumb tracing along my bottom lip. The touch is slow, deliberate. "Of course I would," he murmurs, pressing just hard enough that my lips instinctively part. His eyes flick down to my mouth, and without thinking, my tongue grazes his thumb.

His gaze snaps back to mine, and he applies a little more pressure, making me suck on his finger for a second longer than I mean to.

"Is that what you want?" His voice is lower now, curious.

I don't know what to say. My heart is racing. Of course I don't want him to kill Frank-but is he really so casual about it, like snuffing someone out is nothing to him?

He makes a soft sound of approval as I suck on his thumb before gently pulling his hand away.

"No," I finally say, suddenly aware of how vulnerable I feel, my chest tightening with insecurity.

"Well then," he says, effortlessly glossing over my request to call my mom. I don't push it, not wanting to stir the tension that's already thick between us. Instead, I shift uncomfortably, wiggling my wrist in the cuff. "Can you take this off? My arm is numb," I ask quietly, almost hesitantly.

Without a word, he leans over, the silence heavy, and retrieves a small key from the bedside table. The soft click of the lock sounds louder than it should in the quiet room. As the cuff loosens, I pull my hand down slowly, rubbing my wrist where the metal had left faint marks. I can feel his eyes on me-burning, intense-but I avoid them, focusing on the sensation of my fingers moving again.

"We'll need to get you some clothes," he says, his voice carrying a casualness that makes the weight of his words sink into me like lead. My heart drops, the implication clear-he doesn't plan on letting me go home. A wave of emotion rises in my chest, tears pricking my eyes, but I swallow them down before they can fall.