Deceiving Lies
Page 38
Minutes passed before his voice caused me to jolt back. “I know you’re awake, Rachel.”
“Uh—”
“Do you need anything, or are you just bored?”
“I can’t sleep.” And I wished I had stayed facing the other way. Getting caught staring at him while he worked out was still beyond embarrassing. But he spent days on end staring at me, it was only natural for me to do the same when he finally did something.
He let the bar go all the way to the top before releasing it and turning his body so he could look at me better. “I’ll go shower.”
“Wait, what?”
“That’s too loud, I’m keeping you awake.”
“You’re not, you don’t need to stop . . . I just can’t sleep.”
“I’ll be back soon,” he said when he stood, but he paused when he turned toward the bathroom. “Anything happens, Rachel, you scream. Understand?”
There wasn’t a point in arguing with him about working out; he was always trying to make me as comfortable as possible. If he thought he was keeping me up, then there was no changing his mind. “Yeah.”
“Don’t go to sleep.”
“I know, Taylor.”
He turned back and shot me a smile, but it quickly faltered. “It feels so wrong to leave you in here.”
It felt wrong to be left alone, but I didn’t want to voice that. “I’m fine, go shower.”
“Scream,” he whispered.
The water turned on a minute later and I got out of the bed and walked around his large room as I waited for him to come back out. I wished I could spend time walking around here with the lights on, so I could see if there was anything personal laid out. I wanted to know what kind of guy Taylor really was, other than a confusingly protective and sweet kidnapper.
I picked up one of his free weights and about died under the heaviness of it. I had spent over a month sitting on a mattress, not moving. Although he kept me well fed and I’d had no form of exercise, I still felt like I was thinner than when I’d been brought here. And not that I’d had much muscle before, but I was positive there was nothing there anymore.
Just as I was putting the weight back in the designated slot, the door to the hallway rattled, and I turned to watch the handle twist back and forth as someone continued to put pressure against the door. Another couple attempts to open the door, and my body finally unfroze and I hurried into the bathroom, thankful that Taylor had left the door unlocked.
“Rachel,” Taylor said softly. Just as I was about to explain why I’d rushed in, I heard his voice again—and this time the husky tone of it had every inch of my body covered in goose bumps. “Fuck, Rachel.”
My eyes widened and I turned to face the mirror. It was starting to get steamy in the bathroom, but not enough that I couldn’t see the reflection of Taylor through the glass door of the shower. What I saw had my jaw dropping, and my next inhale becoming audible.
Taylor’s left arm was out in front of him, his hand keeping him leaning toward the wall. His arm closest to the glass door was moving back and forth in a controlled motion. I tried to turn around, but my eyes flashed down and I couldn’t seem to take them off his hand going up and down his long length.
There’s no way I’m seeing this, this isn’t happening. He’s not doing this, and he’s definitely not doing this while thinking about me! Look away, Rachel, for the love of God look away.
“God—yes.”
I stared, transfixed, as his hand gradually moved faster and faster. Something inside me heated, something in me wanted to watch him finish. My fingers twitched watching him, and it was his next “Rachel” that had me snapping out of it and realizing what I was doing, what I was feeling, what I was thinking, and what I was craving . . . from him.
I felt sick. My eyes burned as tears pricked them, and I turned and rushed into the bedroom, not even remembering about the others trying to get in until I was already in his bed and covering my shaking body with the comforter. I wasn’t okay with what I’d just seen, I wasn’t okay with my reaction to watching him, and I wasn’t okay with the images that were still racing through my head at what I wanted him to come in here and do to me.
Biting down on my fist in an attempt to quiet my ragged breathing, I tried not to burst into tears. I’d just gotten my body to stop shaking when I heard the water turn off and the glass door open. I kept the comforter up, covering most of my face, and a couple minutes later when Taylor walked into the room, I didn’t move.
“Rachel . . . ? Goddamn it, you weren’t supposed to go to sleep!” he whispered harshly, and I heard him walking quickly around the room as he checked the door, under the bed, and the closet.
I should have tried to answer him to tell him no one else was in there. I should have told him that someone had been trying to get in the room while he was in the shower. I should have assured him that I hadn’t fallen asleep so he wouldn’t have to worry himself more the next time he had to leave me. But I couldn’t. All I could do was lie there and want for things to be different.
Up until about ten minutes before, I’d never thought of anything romantic or sexual with Taylor—and I knew the only reason I was now was because of what I had seen. I wanted those thoughts gone. I wanted to go back in time and decide to stay in the room when the others had tried to get in, and just be prepared to scream if they had succeeded.
And most of all, I wanted my Kash. I wanted to be wrapped in his arms in our bed. I wanted to go back to the night of the whipped cream war, and beg him to stay home with me so none of this would have happened. I wanted a way to tell him I was okay. I wanted to know that I was going to see him again. And I wanted to know if he was trying to find me.
“Uh—”
“Do you need anything, or are you just bored?”
“I can’t sleep.” And I wished I had stayed facing the other way. Getting caught staring at him while he worked out was still beyond embarrassing. But he spent days on end staring at me, it was only natural for me to do the same when he finally did something.
He let the bar go all the way to the top before releasing it and turning his body so he could look at me better. “I’ll go shower.”
“Wait, what?”
“That’s too loud, I’m keeping you awake.”
“You’re not, you don’t need to stop . . . I just can’t sleep.”
“I’ll be back soon,” he said when he stood, but he paused when he turned toward the bathroom. “Anything happens, Rachel, you scream. Understand?”
There wasn’t a point in arguing with him about working out; he was always trying to make me as comfortable as possible. If he thought he was keeping me up, then there was no changing his mind. “Yeah.”
“Don’t go to sleep.”
“I know, Taylor.”
He turned back and shot me a smile, but it quickly faltered. “It feels so wrong to leave you in here.”
It felt wrong to be left alone, but I didn’t want to voice that. “I’m fine, go shower.”
“Scream,” he whispered.
The water turned on a minute later and I got out of the bed and walked around his large room as I waited for him to come back out. I wished I could spend time walking around here with the lights on, so I could see if there was anything personal laid out. I wanted to know what kind of guy Taylor really was, other than a confusingly protective and sweet kidnapper.
I picked up one of his free weights and about died under the heaviness of it. I had spent over a month sitting on a mattress, not moving. Although he kept me well fed and I’d had no form of exercise, I still felt like I was thinner than when I’d been brought here. And not that I’d had much muscle before, but I was positive there was nothing there anymore.
Just as I was putting the weight back in the designated slot, the door to the hallway rattled, and I turned to watch the handle twist back and forth as someone continued to put pressure against the door. Another couple attempts to open the door, and my body finally unfroze and I hurried into the bathroom, thankful that Taylor had left the door unlocked.
“Rachel,” Taylor said softly. Just as I was about to explain why I’d rushed in, I heard his voice again—and this time the husky tone of it had every inch of my body covered in goose bumps. “Fuck, Rachel.”
My eyes widened and I turned to face the mirror. It was starting to get steamy in the bathroom, but not enough that I couldn’t see the reflection of Taylor through the glass door of the shower. What I saw had my jaw dropping, and my next inhale becoming audible.
Taylor’s left arm was out in front of him, his hand keeping him leaning toward the wall. His arm closest to the glass door was moving back and forth in a controlled motion. I tried to turn around, but my eyes flashed down and I couldn’t seem to take them off his hand going up and down his long length.
There’s no way I’m seeing this, this isn’t happening. He’s not doing this, and he’s definitely not doing this while thinking about me! Look away, Rachel, for the love of God look away.
“God—yes.”
I stared, transfixed, as his hand gradually moved faster and faster. Something inside me heated, something in me wanted to watch him finish. My fingers twitched watching him, and it was his next “Rachel” that had me snapping out of it and realizing what I was doing, what I was feeling, what I was thinking, and what I was craving . . . from him.
I felt sick. My eyes burned as tears pricked them, and I turned and rushed into the bedroom, not even remembering about the others trying to get in until I was already in his bed and covering my shaking body with the comforter. I wasn’t okay with what I’d just seen, I wasn’t okay with my reaction to watching him, and I wasn’t okay with the images that were still racing through my head at what I wanted him to come in here and do to me.
Biting down on my fist in an attempt to quiet my ragged breathing, I tried not to burst into tears. I’d just gotten my body to stop shaking when I heard the water turn off and the glass door open. I kept the comforter up, covering most of my face, and a couple minutes later when Taylor walked into the room, I didn’t move.
“Rachel . . . ? Goddamn it, you weren’t supposed to go to sleep!” he whispered harshly, and I heard him walking quickly around the room as he checked the door, under the bed, and the closet.
I should have tried to answer him to tell him no one else was in there. I should have told him that someone had been trying to get in the room while he was in the shower. I should have assured him that I hadn’t fallen asleep so he wouldn’t have to worry himself more the next time he had to leave me. But I couldn’t. All I could do was lie there and want for things to be different.
Up until about ten minutes before, I’d never thought of anything romantic or sexual with Taylor—and I knew the only reason I was now was because of what I had seen. I wanted those thoughts gone. I wanted to go back in time and decide to stay in the room when the others had tried to get in, and just be prepared to scream if they had succeeded.
And most of all, I wanted my Kash. I wanted to be wrapped in his arms in our bed. I wanted to go back to the night of the whipped cream war, and beg him to stay home with me so none of this would have happened. I wanted a way to tell him I was okay. I wanted to know that I was going to see him again. And I wanted to know if he was trying to find me.
