Skin (Flesh 2)

“Is it?” Roslyn sat on the arm of the lounge and kicked the chain to and fro, noisily. It slithered across the floor, metal clinking. She added a little extra oomph to the movement just for fun. Nick looked less than impressed, his eyes all flashy and dangerous. Bad luck, buddy. Chalk up one small, pathetic victory to her team.

The trimmed beard covered a lot of territory, but his eyes said plenty. Mostly she’d avoided looking in them since he’d laid out brunch on the table. He’d sat down across from her and dug into the porridge and chopped apples laced with brown sugar. Of course he knew how to cook, as he’d demonstrated with dinner last night. How typical. She tried not to be impressed. Also, she tried not to relish the food. A hot breakfast, however, proved to be worlds away from a ration of stale crackers at the school. At least her captivity would be passed in relative comfort.

“Why don’t you read a book?” he suggested, gesturing to the shelf of dusty classics above the bed.

“I don’t have any reading glasses. My spares are back at the school in my handbag.” For fun she wrapped the chain around her foot and bounced and jiggled it on the floor. “Why don’t you take me back so I can fetch them?”

“I’m not really in the mood for a drive. Aren’t you tired of wearing the uniform?”

She barked out a laugh. “I think I’ll keep my dress on, thank you.”

“There are fresh clothes in the cupboard.” He carefully set down a piece of his pistol, steepled his fingers and rested his chin upon the point. “That’s all I meant. For now.”

“What sort of clothes?”

“So suspicious. Go see for yourself.” The look on his face would have made anyone think twice. A gleam had returned to his eyes. He sat perfectly still, watching and waiting. Vipers probably sat that still when sizing up their prey.

The chain jangled as she kicked it aside and stood. “Alright.”

She wandered over and threw open the double-door cupboard, embedded in the wall opposite the open-plan kitchen. It backed onto the bathroom, obvious due to the big white water heater sitting in one corner. But there was a wealth of things packed around it and a whole lot more filled the shelves. All selected with a woman in mind. There were sweaters and jackets, shoes and shirts, jeans and underwear. Lots of underwear, far more than one person could ever possibly require. A veritable bordelloful of the fluffy stuff lay before her.

She poked a finger at the clutter of lingerie. A colorful mess of ribbons and lace fell at her feet, busting free of the cupboard’s crowded confines.

“You’ve been busy,” she said, dryly. “Where did all this come from?”

“Town.”

She picked up the topmost item of filmy, ivory-colored silken nothingness. Took her a moment to figure out what it was. “Tie-on panties. Nice, Nick. Very practical.”

“There’s a matching bra for that one, I think,” he said, his voice directly behind her. So damn close his breath warmed the back of her neck.

“Shit!” Her spine almost shot straight out of her. “Don’t sneak up on me.”

“Sorry.” He smiled. It wasn’t the least bit sincere.

“Would you mind giving me some room?”

“Not at all.” He took one step back. Not even a very big one. God knew his legs were long enough.

“Better?” he asked.

She didn’t deign to reply.

Instead she rifled through the nearest stack of clothes, a selection of jeans. Beside sat some woolen vests and a couple of long-sleeve T-shirts. They looked like they’d fit. So did the shirts still wrapped in plastic packaging. And the neat stack of sensible boyleg knickers. Nice to know they weren’t all see-through. Cotton appeared here and there. She rather liked certain girly things. But there would be no parading that particular predilection in front of him.

Never, ever, ever.

Pretty much everything in the cupboard looked like it’d fit her. A weird twinge tickled her scalp. Like her skin was on back to front.

It wasn’t him. He hung back, for now. Leaning against the kitchen bench, face neutral and eyes beady, waiting on her reaction, no doubt.

A black pair of cargo pants in her size. A set of sturdy brown boots, a pair of sneakers, similar to his. Both were the right size. Even the bras were close, a C cup instead of her actual B. Huh, he’d been hoping.

“How did you know?” she asked. A stupid question. She already knew the answer.

“Hmm?”

“You’ve been watching me,” she said.

A creepy smile lit his face. He didn’t even bother to deny the accusation.

“God, Nick. That’s awful.”

He snorted and shook his head. “Did you really think I hadn’t watched you?”

“Stalking. Let’s call it what it is.”

He shrugged. “If you like.”

“You’re not even ashamed.” Her face felt brittle. Stupidly surprised that the man who’d chained her to his bed had been spying on her. Of all the small, insignificant indiscretions—except it wasn’t really. Her privacy had been shat upon and she’d never even suspected. When the hell would she learn that the old rules did not apply? Life had been stripped back to the basics of food, water, shelter and sex.

And this guy, the one lounging in front of her, was as primitive as they came.

“I think we should talk some more about our deal,” he said.

“We have no deal. I have a chain. But we have no deal.” She picked up the dropped scanties and shoved them back into their crowded space. He didn’t need any more improbable ideas floating around his deviant mind.

“Of course we have a deal. We’re negotiating it right now.” He pulled his hands out of his pockets and rubbed them together, all enthused. “There’s no reason we can’t behave like honest, mature adults about this.”

“You’re such a creep.” She shut the cupboard doors and set her back against them. “Congratulations, my skin is actually crawling. You make Neil look viable.”

“Who’s Neil?”

She mumbled a few choice expletives and headed back to the bed, chain trailing behind her. “I can’t believe you were spying on me.”

“Hang on, do you mean the bastard who cornered you in the Science labs the other day?”

“You saw that too, huh? Why am I not surprised?”

“Yeah. I saw.” Nick’s face twisted in anger, his lips a livid line within the frame of his beard. She’d have backed up if she hadn’t already been at the bed. “Do not compare me to him. I had him in my sights. I nearly shot the f**ker. The way he was looking at you.”