Catalyst (12 page)

I bite his finger as hard as I can. “Dumb bitch!” He shakes his hand, but his smile returns. “Biting can be quite the turn on, but now isn’t the time.”

“Let me go, you sick fuck!”

“I don’t think so. You see … I tried doing it the easy way. Letting you have your friends, warm up to me gradually, and let you set the pace for our future. All was okay until yesterday. Yesterday, you changed the course, and now, it’s going to be done my way.” I can feel his breath on my neck and his erection on my outer thigh.

“What are you talking about? Our future? We’ve only dated a few months.” His hand moves over my bandage, and I wince from the sensitivity of it.

“You’re mine. We’re destined to be together. You’ll see, eventually. Would you like some breakfast?” He moves to get up, and his nonchalance of the situation flabbergasts me. After my non-answer, he answers for me and gets up from the bed. “You need to stay healthy. I’ll be back with some eggs, bacon, and toast.”

What in the ever-loving fuck is going on?

It’s still dark out when I look outside the windows. Having no clue what time it is, I wonder why he’s fixing me eggs and toast right now. I relax a bit now that I’m alone and brainstorm what in the hell I’m going to do to get out of this mess.

I need Noah. Is he part of the problem? Was our interaction yesterday the catalyst to Maguire falling over the edge into crazy?

Noah would realize soon enough that I was gone and that something was wrong. I had to hold on to the hope he would be my savior. Until then, I needed to figure out how to handle Maguire.

Do I go along with his tactics so he’ll go easy on me, or do I fight like no other? It scared me to think about what he’d do if I pissed him off enough.

I feel like I’m giving up if I don’t fight him. Something about him tells me that he won’t hurt me unless he has to. For whatever sick and twisted reason, he cherishes me and wants me. Looking around the room, I concentrate on happier times in this home with Liam.

“Honey, is it ready yet?” Liam strolls into the kitchen as I shake the sealed bag with his favorite treat. He rests his chin on my shoulder and sighs, mesmerized by what’s in front of him. All it is is Chex cereal with chocolate, peanut butter, and powdered sugar covering it.

“It needs to harden first. Otherwise, you’ll get all messy,” I tell him as I open the bag and evenly distribute the mixture onto a cookie sheet. “Give them a half hour in the fridge and they’ll be perfect for you. Can you be patient?” I turn and head over to the fridge, licking my fingers as I close the door and face him.

“What ever will we do while we wait?” His grin is devious. He watches me lick my fingers so I slow it down into more deliberate motions. “Not fair, baby.” Liam takes a quick step toward me and I dart away from him, giggling as I run through the family room and up the stairs. Heavy steps are right behind me as I hear him laughing as well. I slide a little as I turn into our bedroom, cursing the fact that I’m wearing socks.

I hop in bed and cover myself up with the covers. I wait a few seconds until I feel him press a hand on the bed, followed by a knee. Hovering over me, I can feel his heated breath above me and he grinds against me slightly. The moan that comes out of my mouth is involuntary, and he groans in response. “Twenty-seven minutes. Time’s a-ticking,” he muses.

Pulling the blanket down, I give in and wrap my legs around him. Biting my lip, I nod my head as he lowers to kiss my neck. “Twenty-six,” I respond as his lips move down to my chest, nibbling over my shirt.

“Sounds like a challenge. Twenty-six orgasms? That’s a little greedy, love. How about we settle on three to four?” He lifts my shirt up and exposes my breasts and begins kissing me again. I can feel him smile against my tender skin.

“Quitter.”

“Never. Challenge accepted, but you can’t blame me when you can’t walk tomorrow,” Liam tells me with my nipple in his mouth. Sliding his hand below my shorts, I’m lost to his touch.

By nightfall, we’re a sweaty mingle of limbs with a bowl of the dessert on the nightstand. Looking up at the man I love, I have no doubt he’s the man of my dreams, powdered sugar lips and all.

My time alone is gone too soon, and Maguire walks back in with a glass of orange juice and two plates of breakfast. Setting both plates in front of him, he stabs a piece of egg with his fork and tries to feed it to me.

“You really expect me to eat lying down and not choke?” I scoff.

He looks at me for a moment before moving the plates to the nightstand. He bends down under the bed and slides my feet chains toward the middle of the bed, allowing me to bend my knees. His hands go under my armpits to pull me into a sitting position.

I feel like a fucking doll.

“Better?” he asks as he situates himself again.

What I wouldn’t do to get into his head.

“Thank you.” I try to sound as sincere as possible. He’s going to need to trust me if I have any chance of getting out of here unscathed.

Lifting a bite up to my mouth, I open wide for him, and as soon as the food hits my tongue, the thought hits me that he could have tainted it with poison.

But then I realize he has me where he wants me. How he got me here is another question.

“How’d I get here?” I ask after swallowing another bite.

“I brought you,” he says as if that’s enough of an answer.

“How?” I continue to chew but desperately need a drink. “Can I have some of the orange juice?” I’m not sure who it’s for seeing as there’s only one large glass of it. He places the glass on my lower lip and lets me have a sip.

I let out a sigh of satisfaction. Soothing my dry throat, I thank him with my eyes. He doesn’t deserve the words.

“A sedative,” he answers my question about how he got me here so easily.

What is this man capable of? He got into my apartment without anyone seeing or me waking up. He drugged me and brought me back to his home. Liam’s home.

I nod, not knowing how to respond to that.

Looks like I won’t be heading to the bar today. Or tomorrow. Or however long it takes me to get the hell out of here.

After breakfast, he lays me back down and secures my feet at the end of the bed again.

“Did you?” I look down at my body. “I mean how did I get naked?”

He shakes his head solemnly. “I haven’t. You vomited as I was getting you out of the car. Probably from the medicine. I brought you in and cleaned you up before putting you to bed.” His answer seems like he’s seeking my approval.

This man in front of me is confusing as hell, but I can fight this battle later. Sleep pulls me under, and I pray when I wake up, I’ll be out of this hell.

Noah’s my only chance. His love for me will be tested.

Maguire

SHE’S NOT AS
pissed as I thought she’d be. She’s smart. I can see her strategizing and asking questions. It’ll all become clear to her in time. Why I did this, how we’re meant to be together.

Tinsley thinks I fucked her while she was unconscious. The idea revolts me. I could never take her unwillingly. She will see soon, though, and she’ll surrender to me.

For now, time is what we need.

Time for the medicine to wear off; time for her to realize no one is coming for her; and time to realize I’m not the enemy here.

I’m her lifeline now, and her world is hanging by a thread.

Tinsley

I HAVE TO PEE
like a racehorse. My nose itches, and I can’t scratch. Oh, and I’m still butt ass naked in the room I used to live in with Liam. Only now, I’m chained to a bed with a crazy man sitting in the corner.

Maguire’s been on his laptop most of the time. I think he stayed in the room the entire time I slept.

Clearing my throat, I ask, “Can I use the restroom?” Getting these chains off sounds amazing. A shower would be nice too, but I know it’d be pushing it.

He looks over, looking at the chains before standing and moving over to the closet. He pulls out a pair of handcuffs without a word and comes over to start releasing me.

His hands are delicate as he unlocks and slides the chains off my ankles. When he gets to my arms, I feel the handcuff secured to my wrist and that’s when I realize he’s handcuffing me to him. After he’s joined us together, he ever so carefully slides my other wrist out of the entrapment.

Holding his non-cuffed hand out, he helps me out of bed and walks with me to the bathroom. This is going to get super weird when I have to take care of messier things than peeing.

I feel like his pet, but I have to pee so bad that I don’t really care.

He leans against the wall as I take care of business and awkwardly wipe with my non-dominant hand.

“Can I take a shower?” I ask as I stand and flush the toilet. We’re close now, too close for comfort, but I know that this is how I have to play the game. I look up into his eyes. I try to convey that I know he is the one in control and I’m willing to make this work.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and nods. We walk together and he turns the water on. Placing my hand on his chest, I look up and bite my lip just a smidge.

“What are you doing, Tinsley?” His voice is rough. My hand slides down the front of his pants, and it’s evident that he wants me.

“Remembering how good you’ve been to me. Remembering how good your touch felt.” Squeezing his bulge, he lets out a guttural groan, and I know I’m getting to him.

He quickly takes over. He unfastens his pants with one hand and slides down his boxer briefs. When it comes to his shirt, he’s stuck.

A problem for him, a solution for me.

He contemplates what to do for a moment, and I know I have to tip the advantage my way. I bring my cuffed hand down to my core so that his hand is achingly close to touching me, but I give myself that pleasure and slide two fingers down my slit.

In a way, having been with him before has helped this situation. I know what turns him on and truly did enjoy being with him, except now I’ll have to use that to my advantage.

I can feel his hand reaching and trying to take over. I slide my fingers deeper and let out a soft moan. Just enough to drive him wild.

“Jesus.” I have him right where I want him. I know this house better than he does, and if given the chance, I hope like hell that I’m quicker too.

Pulling our hands away, I wait for his decision. If his goal were to have me to himself, this should be a small victory for him.

After a moment, he turns toward the water and steps in with his shirt on.

Fuck! He was supposed to take it off before the shower, and in turn, take the handcuffs off momentarily.

Stepping into the shower after him, he carefully washes me. Avoiding my wrists, ankles, and fresh tattoo, he takes his time, rubbing the soap all over my body before washing my hair. I lean my head back and enjoy this for a moment. His cock keeps touching my back, and I wonder how he got so far off track that I didn’t see this coming.

He seemed so normal, so sweet.

He doesn’t touch me anywhere inappropriately or try anything, which makes me wonder. After turning the water off, he takes a lengthy amount of time drying me off, kneeling down to dry each leg before working his way up. He does just a quick once over for himself, droplets of water still glistening on his skin. His shirt is soaked. Grabbing a jar from the counter, we walk back into the bedroom and he motions me back down on the bed and I lie down without protest.

I wait for the dreaded chains, but he surprises me with a soft touch and some ointment being rubbed over my raw skin. The gentle touch sends goosebumps up my body, but he tenderly applies the medicine over both ankles and wrist before redressing my tattoo.

“What is it of?” I ask as he places a new bandage over the inked skin. I haven’t had a chance to see it yet.

“A skeleton key,” he says softly. There’s this weird chemistry that still lingers. My head knows I’m not supposed to be with him, but my body hasn’t been made privy to that knowledge.

After a moment, he sets the jar on the nightstand and come to lay beside me. We’re still handcuffed to each other, but this time I’m not chained. He seems so calm about this whole situation. I can’t help but wonder what his end game is.

“Why?” The question with so many answers. I’ll take what he can give me for now.

“A skeleton key is altered to fit multiple doors. Opening your heart, body, and soul to me is something I cherish. We’re the key to each other’s happiness. We’re soul mates, Tinsley. It’s fate that we met in college and again a few months ago.” His voice is so direct. There’s confidence in his words.

“Why’d you lock me up? Why couldn’t this have been a conversation about how serious you were about us? It takes two in a relationship. When did you decide all of this?” The questions come out of my mouth without thought.

He senses my apprehension. I fucked up. I said too much, and now, we’ve taken two steps back.

“Don’t you see? I tried so desperately to allow you your freedom. You were so close to having it all, but then you fucked it up. Noah isn’t right for you. I hope you know this.” Anger fills the air. He stands abruptly, yanking me across the bed as he does so. No remorse, no sympathy. I scramble to my knees.