At the time, I wouldn't have cared. But now, I did. Go figure.
When my shoes hit the basement floor, I turned to look. Chloe had stopped on the final step – not quite at the bottom, but a long way from upstairs. She looked around, as if taking in the scenery, scarce as it was.
The place was gray and spotless with a painted floor and matching concrete walls. There wasn't much down here – just a few boxes, some open, some shut, along with my weight bench and a few other odds and ends. The only furniture in sight was a big oak table, surrounded by four sturdy chairs.
I motioned to the table. "Have a seat."
"Why?" She rubbed her arms and gave a small shiver. "What's down here, anyway?"
I walked to the table and pulled out a chair. See? A perfect gentleman. "Sit," I said. "You'll see in a minute."
She hesitated. Her gaze darted from wall to wall, before landing back on me. Her eyes grew uncertain, and she gave another shiver. From nerves? Or the cold? Did it matter? Either way, she'd be smart to run.
I was still gripping the back of the chair. I waited, wondering if she'd bolt.
She didn't.
Instead, she stepped down and moved toward me, treading carefully along the cold, hard floor. When she reached the chair, she sat, resting her hands on her almost-naked lap, as waiting for some sort of explanation.
If that was the case, she'd be waiting a while, because let's face it, she had a lot more explaining to do than I did.
Standing behind her, I watched and waited. She was still looking around, as if trying to figure out what, exactly, I was planning to show her.
Wouldn’t she like to know?
Silently, I reached into a nearby box. I found the handcuffs exactly where I'd left them. I crouched behind her, and then I did it. I grabbed her hands and yanked them from her lap. I pulled her arms behind her and slapped on the cuffs.
It was over so fast, she didn't stand a chance. I heard her breaths, coming short and shallow. She gave a tentative tug, and then another. "What—"
"Alright," I said. "You wanted to see something? Well, you got your wish."
She gave another yank. "Lawton!"
She could yank all she wanted. She wasn't going anywhere. I'd looped the chain through part of the chair. The wood was thick. Solid oak. Someone her size? In a hundred years, she'd never break free.
But she was still pulling, making the handcuffs rattle against the wood. Her voice grew strained. "This isn't funny."
Standing behind her, I crossed my arms. "It's not meant to be."
She turned her head as far as it could go. When our eyes met, she gave another little shiver. From the look in her eyes, this one, at least, wasn't from the cold.
Slowly, she turned her head away. She stopped yanking, and sat motionless for a long, quiet minute. And then, she took a deep, steady breath and then another. A moment later, she spoke in a low, surprisingly calm voice. "Lawton, I mean it. Let me go. Right now."
"No. I don't think so."
"Son-of-a-bitch!" She gave another yank. "I'm serious."
"So am I."
Standing behind the chair, I placed my hands on her shoulders. "Now listen up. I don't wanna hurt you. But I've gotta check for something."
Under my hands, her shoulders tensed. "What?"
"Electronics." Upstairs, I'd checked the clothes that she'd taken off. It was time to check the rest of them, as flimsy as they were.
Slowly, I ran a finger under her bra straps, and then over the bra itself. Under my touch, her nipples hardened, and I felt that familiar surge of heat and desire.
Part of me still wanted her. It's only lust, I reminded myself. Nothing more. A physical reaction to a beautiful girl – well, beautiful on the outside at least.
