He spins me around, using my wrists, and he tugs me toward the bed. I’m still catching my breath after his close proximity. He throws me onto the bed and climbs on beside me. He throws the covers back, slides us in and then snaps the cuffs on my wrist. Just as I think he’s about to cuff me back to the bed, he reaches his hand over and cuffs the other one on his wrist.
“Seriously?” I gape.
“Your hand isn’t above your head, but I’m pleased.”
I can feel the heat of his hand against mine and I’m not sure I can make it through an entire night basically holding his hand.
“I said I’d sleep on the floor.”
He nods his head toward the ground. “Off you go, then. I won’t be uncuffing you, though, so your hand will be in the air. You decide which you want most—a comfy bed or your pride.”
The bed is comfortable, but the pillows aren’t. If I sleep on the hard floor, with hard pillows, the chances of me sleeping are slim. I grind my jaw and settle in beside him.
“If you touch me, I’ll hurt you.”
He snorts. “Don’t flatter yourself. I have myself a fine woman in the other room.”
I feel insignificant now.
“It wouldn’t be so bad if you let me brush my hair.”
He turns his head and stares at me. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I’m not up to standards, because my hair is awful. If I brushed it, I wouldn’t look so . . . insignificant.”
He narrows his eyes.
“Need more than a brush.”
Ouch.
I hate him. Truly.
“You’re below the scum of the earth, Dimitri.”
“And you’re sleeping with me. Those who lie with dogs are sure to get fleas.”
“Asshole.”
He reaches across and flicks the lights off.
This is going to be a long night.
CHAPTER TEN
Jess
I can feel his hands on my body, the way they slide down. I can’t escape him, it doesn’t matter what I do. He’s always there, always taking away what I don’t want to give. I cry out, trying to struggle, trying to just make it stop. His breath is on my cheek, horrible and so dirty. A hand slides up my thigh, dipping under my skirt.
No.
Please, for the love of God no.
I wake up with a scream, my body thrashing from side to side. Big hands are grabbing at me, trying to keep me still. Panic rises and I kick out, wanting to make it hurt. You can’t get to me now, Roger. I’m bigger, stronger, better. I’ll kill you.
“Jess!”
I shake my head. The voice, husky from sleep, is not Roger’s.
“D-Dimitri?” I breathe.
“Shit, are you okay?”
Okay?
I blink a few times, realizing what’s happened. My body is drenched with sweat, my hands are shaking, and my emotions are shot. I had a nightmare. It happens a lot. I sit up slowly, realizing my arm is uncuffed. When did that happen? I tremble as I focus on Dimitri, sitting beside me. The light is illuminating his concerned face.
“Shit, you’re shaking.”
I can’t answer, I’m in some sort of shock. He reaches out, putting his hands on my shoulders, causing me to jerk away with a cry.
“Shit, sorry,” he says, pulling back.
I blink some more. “I . . . it was just a dream.”
“Some fuckin’ dream.”
I nod, looking away. He gets out of the bed and walks into the bathroom, returning a moment later with a glass and washcloth. He hands the glass to me and I take it gratefully, sipping the cool water inside. He shoves the washcloth in my direction. “You’re sweating real bad.”
“Oh,” I say, taking it. “I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t be, it ain’t your fault you dream.”
I wipe my face, closing my eyes as the calming cool fills my body. That’s better. So much better.
“I can sleep on the floor, I know it probably bothers you,” I say, daring to look up at him.
“We all dream. I know what it’s like.”
A strong silence falls between us and our eyes remain locked. I turn away quickly, swallowing. “It sucks.”
He snorts. “Yeah, it does.”
“It’ll probably happen again, Dimitri. I dream a lot.”
“Join the club,” he says, taking the washcloth from my hands. Our fingers graze and I shiver, feeling so vulnerable in this moment.
“Milk,” he says, his voice low. “It helps. You want some?”
I nod and he gets out of the bed, disappearing from the room. That was strange. I sit, tucked up in a little ball, until he returns with a mug of milk. He hands it to me, his eyes watching mine as I take it and sip it. The warm milk eases my throat and stops the aching in my body.
“Thanks.”
He nods, turning away. “Try and sleep, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I watch him go to his desk, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say Dimitri just showed me kindness.
An entire week passes, and with each day that goes by, I feel myself slipping. My witty cover-up is becoming weaker and weaker. I’m scared. I can’t stop thinking about Hendrix and Indi. If something happens to them, I’ll never forgive myself. It’s on me to make sure it doesn’t, but Dimitri isn’t budging. He makes me walk with him all day every day, not uncuffing me except to let me shower and eat. It doesn’t matter that we’ve had small moments between us.