Paetyn’s POV
I blink at him, unable to form a single thought, let alone a sentence to respond to his comment. The masked man blurs in my vision as I process his insane suggestion.
Thinking about him? Has he lost his damn mind? In what world would I be thinking sexually about the man who kidnapped me, has had me chained to a dingy bed for days, and refuses to speak to me? The thought is insane, that’s what it is.
And yet, I feel the dampness between my thighs from my fantasy from moments ago when I thought about him touching me, his large hands caressing my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I shiver at the thought.
Yeah, I’m a f*****g liar because I am thinking about him, and that’s the problem.
But I won’t admit that to him, no matter how long he sits there and stares at me w
