Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Curious, I ask, “Who made it?”
“Mateo.” He walks around to the other side of the bed. “He’s domesticated like that.”
For no reason, his words make me smile. If I ignore that he’s a jerk and my jailer, he’s easy to talk to. Except for Eden and Evie, he’s the person I’ve conversed the most with in my adult life. The guards and staff in Bell’s household weren’t allowed to talk to me, not that any of them wanted to after that day in the basement.
I shudder.
“Still cold?” Roman asks, pulling off his sweater. He’s wearing a white T-shirt underneath.
Pushing the dark memory away, I consider him. “Why are you being kind to me?”
He kicks off his shoes. “Are you always this distrustful of people’s good intentions?”
“What good intentions?” I ask with a bite in my words.
His buckle makes a clanking sound as he removes his belt. “We may be on opposite sides, but as long as you’re living in my house, you’re my responsibility.”
I’m battling to reconcile the man who hates me—Evie—with the one who’s feeding me soup. He’s being considerate, and it’s confusing. The messages he’s sending are contradictory. They’re jamming the signals in my brain, making me uncertain as to how I should behave toward him. Maybe I’m suffering from Stockholm syndrome.
My thoughts still when he grabs the hem of his T-shirt and pulls it over his head. Deep grooves define his muscles. A dusting of dark hair covers his chest. I noticed last night, but then it was a subconscious observation. Tonight feels different. I see him, really see him, maybe because he’s brought me soup. No one has ever taken care of me like this. My mom never did, not even when I was sick.
When he pulls down his zipper and removes his pants, a mental picture of last night jumps into my mind. I choke on a swallow of soup. Coughing, I hide my face behind my hand lest he sees my embarrassment. He’s not shy about his nakedness. I suppose there’s no point in being modest, seeing that he’s already decided he’s going to sleep with me.
“You’re not a prude, are you?” he asks, getting into bed wearing only his briefs. “You’ve seen a naked man before. You said so yourself.”
I haven’t. My lack of experience isn’t something I’m proud of. Being Evie’s double keeps me busy. No. That’s not the whole truth. I just couldn’t stomach it. Yet when his arm brushes against my breast as he reaches over me, heat spreads through my belly. Taking the empty bowl, he leaves it on the nightstand before switching off the lamp.
I should get up and brush my teeth, but I’m scared to move and shatter the fragile peace. Considering who we are, it won’t last. It can’t. Yet having someone next to me, even if that someone is my enemy, feels warm. Good. It feels safe here in the dark. It makes me want things I have no business of wanting—strong arms and a comforting hug. There can never be a man for someone like me. For as long as Evie lives, I’m doomed to be a shadow.
“Come here,” he says, opening his arms.
This is wrong on so many levels, but I’ve never taken anything for myself. Even that dress, the one the gardener had died for, was returned to Evie’s closet. We’re heading toward a terrible fate. The incident in Bell’s basement will be nothing compared to what will happen when this war comes to an end. My mom used to say war does strange things to people. It makes them behave differently. I blame war as I accept his invitation, stealing a moment for myself as I lay my head on his chest and let him wrap his arms around me.
“Warmer?” he asks, his voice husky against my ear.
I tremble with fear, not because of what will happen to me if Bell doesn’t save me but because I’m scared Roman is right. I’m terrified there will come a moment that I don’t want to say no. It has nothing to do with feelings. It’s just human nature. It’s an inborn need for the comfort of touch.
He drags his nose through my hair. “You smelled different when I brought you here.”
It was only last night, but it already feels like weeks ago. “I did?”
“Like vanilla.”
When I’m pretending to be Evie, I have to wear her perfume, but I’m not using her expensive brand of toiletries. At home, I use vanilla scented shampoo.
“Vanilla suits you better than jasmine,” he says.
I smile. “I’ll remember that.”
“Are you going to sleep tonight?”
“I’ll try,” I say honestly.
“Do you need something to help you sleep?”
“I don’t like to take medicine if it’s not necessary.”
“So tough,” he teases.
I’ve stolen my moment, but it’s best I don’t get used to moments I’ll never have. “I need to brush my teeth.”