Page 53 of Captive

“I don’t think you’d be asking if the answer was a no.” Blunt, straight to the point, calling me out on my crap. Just what I expect from her.

“It might surprise you, but something like that is new to me. What if I… don’t know what to do?” She might not really be beating around the bush, but I certainly am. I can’t outright say that I like her, that I want her, that I want to lose myself in her every which way.

Abby smirks. “Trust me, when you’re in the thick of it, everyone knows what to do. Sharing is caring, after all.” Spoken so straightforwardly, considering we’re talking about sharing her.

Speaking of liking things, I can’t help but think she likes it, too. Being shared. I don’t think something like that would be for everybody, just as I don’t think sharing one girl would be for everyone.

“And if you’re serious about joining us sometime, then don’t you worry your pretty little head. I can walk you through it. Now, I should leave before we say anything else. If we keep going with this, I might just start stroking that ego of yours here and now—and I don’t know if you’re ready for that.”

She takes a step back from me, putting a good foot and a half between us. “When you are, though, you know where I live.” She smirks harder before she saunters to the door, though she stops when she reaches it and tosses a glance back at me. “I’m right across the hall. Right there.” She points over her shoulder. “Just twenty seconds away. Right. Over. There.”

With that, she leaves me to my own devices. The only problem is I don’t want to be left alone. I want her to come back. I want to keep talking to her. I want to touch more than her cheek. God, I want to touch everything.

I stare at the open door, at where she was seconds ago, willing her to come back. It’s probably too fast, especially with how this talk began, but at the same time, I’ve been fighting it for so long. Too long.

A minute passes, or maybe the seconds only feel like minutes because of the conflict in me. As crystal clear as things are, going after her would surely only lead to one thing.

But I want it. I want her.

Shit. What am I supposed to do?

Chapter Twenty-Two – Abby

That talk went better than I thought it would, and as a bonus, I think we danced on the line Ezra doesn’t want to cross. I wouldn’t say it makes me happy to flirt with him and see him so open to certain things…

No, wait, I would say that. It does make me happy. It makes me unreasonably happy.

Once again I’m riding cloud nine. I can’t help it. Besides still technically being a captive that can’t leave whenever I want, things in this house are going well. Beyond well. They’re fucking great, way better than I ever thought. It really does feel as if I’m a part of their group, like we’re a family.

A messed-up family of serial killers, but still a family.

I go to my room and shut the door, leaning my back on it and sighing as I turn my gaze toward the ceiling. Things are going so well, in fact, it’s like I’ve stepped into a dream without realizing it. Instead of the nightmare I have practically each night, I’m caught in what must be paradise. Three men who understand me, who get me down to my core. You couldn’t ask for anything more.

But, as I stand there with my back against the door, as my eyes fixate on the ceiling above my head, I think back to the conversation with Ezra. All this time he felt guilty because he was starting to like me. All this time I was so oblivious to it.

I’m no stranger to loss, and because of that, I know I could never replace who he lost, but I also know that things are indeed better when you don’t let the past totally consume. We’ve all begun to move on here, under this roof. Is it really so wrong to want Ezra to join us?

Is it wrong of me to want him the same way I want Royal and Hawthorne? Can someone like me have her cake and eat it, too?

Hmm. Maybe we took things a step too far at the end of that conversation. He didn’t seem to mind, but at the same time, I don’t want him to feel pressured or anything. We can move however fast or slow as he wants, and I’d be okay with it. Maybe I should go talk to him and tell him that.

I don’t know what makes me do it, but I decide to go back to him just to make things clear. Pushing off the wooden door, I whirl around and yank it open, ready to step out into the hall and turn to head toward his room.

But I don’t get that far. Why? Oh, because Ezra himself is standing there, in the hallway, less than a foot away from me.

The look on his face is one mirroring the expression he gave me in his room, when we were teasing each other, and yet there’s more to it. I can feel it. His blue gaze is intense, heavy, and he breathes through slightly parted lips, ragged, like he just sprinted up and down the stairs a few times.

“Ezra,” I say his name in a rush. “What is it?”

“I want—” He pauses, and before he says anything else, he takes a single step toward me, brings both his hands to my face, and leans his top half down. His mouth meets mine, and it takes a few seconds for me to realize what’s happening. My eyes are wide at first, but once the kiss deepens, they flutter shut as I kiss him back.

Ezra’s kiss is firm but tentative, like he’s afraid I’ll pull back or ask him to stop. Though his hands are on my face in an unyielding grip, they aren’t so firmly placed that I couldn’t withdraw from this embrace if I want to.

I don’t want to, obviously.

A minute passes, and only then does it become clear I’m not going to pull away from him. The kiss turns harder, more desperate. Through it, I can feel the self-restraint fading in us both. I wanted to give him as much space as he needed, but maybe all we needed to do was be honest with each other.

His mouth parts, and I instinctively snake my tongue between his lips. He moans when our tongues meet, and he angles his face to the side, locking our lips together as we each explore the other. His hands on my face fall to my back and waist, and he holds me against him as if he’s afraid he’ll lose me.