Layover (Open Skies #1) - Becca Jameson Page 0,68
together above her head.
Libby twisted her head around to see the rope around her wrists and secured to the headboard. In a full panic, she jerked her gaze around the room. Nothing was familiar. She was in some sort of bedroom, but it had no windows. Just this queen-sized bed, a dresser, and a nightstand. Nothing else.
It was plain and dark. The walls and ceiling were painted black. The furniture was also black. Even the sheets were black. The only reason she could see was because there was a night light plugged into the outlet on the wall across from her. The glow was enough.
She tugged on her hands again, but all she managed to do was scrape her wrists. Already they were sore. She glanced at the rest of her body, wondering if she’d been injured or raped. Relief eased her nerves a tiny fraction when she found herself dressed in the tank top and boxer shorts she’d been wearing when the two giant men had abducted her. Her hair was still in the messy bun she’d slept in, whenever that had been.
She was barefoot, same as when she’d answered the door too, and she wondered how long she’d been here as she recalled the needle and then blackness. They’d fucking drugged her. But why? What was she doing here?
Suddenly the door opened, and someone filled the doorway. At first, all Libby could detect was a silhouette, and she was scared out of her mind. A second later, the man who entered made her nearly swallow her tongue.
“Eddie?”
He smiled as he approached, and then he sat next to her hip and set his hand on her torso.
“What the hell, Eddie? Who were those men, and why am I here?”
He patted her, making her cringe. “Shh. Calm down. You’re fine. No one hurt you. No one laid a hand on you while you were sleeping. I promise.”
“Untie me. Eddie, fucking untie me right now.” She was furious and probably not making the best decisions, but all be damned if she was going to lie here whimpering like a weakling.
His hand lifted from her stomach and then he cupped her face. “Take a breath. I’ll untie you as soon as you calm down. You’re not a prisoner here. I just wanted some time with you, and you weren’t answering my calls.”
Like hell I’m not a prisoner here. Does he not know the meaning of the word prisoner? I’m the very fucking definition of prisoner.
She took deep breaths, trying to calm down. Until he untied her, she wasn’t going to be able to do anything at all. She needed to gain his trust in order to figure out how to escape.
“That’s my girl.”
She flinched. “Don’t call me that.” Jesus. I’m not your fucking girl.
He winced. “Libby… I need you to see that we’re a perfect match. That’s all.”
“And you thought kidnapping me and holding me hostage would help me see reason?” She wished she could control her tongue, but there was no way.
He shook his head. “Don’t be so dramatic. Some women fantasize about having a dominant man take them against their will.” He chuckled.
Her eyes went wide. Was he fucking serious? And did he really think he was a Dominant? Because she had news for him. He was nothing but a fucking kidnapper. A bully. A piece of shit. He didn’t know the meaning of the word Dominant with a capital D.
She tried to calm her racing heart and slow her breathing. “I’m not that kind of woman,” she informed him.
He shrugged. “It was worth a try. I was hoping you might enjoy having things a bit rough.”
Oh, I do. Just not with you, asshole.
“I’ve heard a bit of bondage play really spices up a marriage.” He wiggled his brows, a ridiculous grin on his lips.
She bit into her lip, forcing herself not to respond.
“Can you be a good girl now so I can untie you?”
She nodded.
He slid his hands up her arms and worked on the knot at her wrists, freeing her a few minutes later.
She gritted her teeth the entire time his hands were on her, pursing her lips, too. She couldn’t stand the smell of him, like cheap cologne and fake jewelry. He was wearing three chain necklaces, and they kept swinging against her chin as he worked the knot.
Eddie looked like a gangster. The two times she’d seen him before, he’d been classy but not trashy. Today, he looked more like a drug lord, and she began