Page 20 of Fighting for Scarlett

Although, when Tate had pulled out that syringe for a second there, her mind had thrown her back into that dungeon torture chamber. Chained up, drugged, and afraid, the arousal that had coursed through her body was unlike anything she had ever experienced before.

Desire was normal, and being turned on was normal. She’d dated before, been engaged twice, and thought she was in love more times than that. There had been plenty of times in bed she had thought she would die if she wasn’t given an orgasm immediately, but it had been nothing close to what that drug had induced.

It was like being set on fire. The throbbing between her legs had been so strong it was painful. The need to orgasm was like a physical being low in her belly trying to claw its way out.

Only there had been nothing to quench the fire raging inside her.

No matter how much she begged and pleaded for release, no one had touched her. They’d just stood around and laughed at her torment, a few of them had gotten themselves off to the sounds of her breathy moans, the thrusting of her hips seeking relief that wasn’t there. A few had squirted the evidence of their own orgasms onto her naked body.

Hours.

Her torment had lasted for hours.

Scarlett had no idea how she hadn't blurted out the formula for the Reactivator for an orgasm that might bring her a little relief.

“Why are you still hyperventilating? It’s done,” Tate snapped.

Blinking, she looked down at her arm where a small, ragged row of black stitches closed the entry wound. Since Tate had a roll of bandages in his hand, she assumed he had likewise stitched the exit wound.

Trapped in her memories, Scarlett didn't remember a single thing about him stitching up the wound.

“You didn't flinch once. You were too lost in thought,” Tate accused like he had the ability to read her mind. “What were you thinking about hard enough that you didn't even notice your wounds being stitched?”

“Nothing,” she lied, praying he believed her. People knowing she had been tortured was one thing, but she didn't want them to know how she had begged Raul Castillo’s dirty, despicable men for orgasms her brain hadn't even wanted, only her body had craved them.

From the look on his face, he did not believe her.

Nothing she could do about that.

There was no way he could possibly know all the things Raul had done to her. As long as he believed she had just been physically tortured then neither he nor anyone else would have cause to think there had been more to it.

His eyes narrowed, and he looked angry all over again. How could he be so angry with her and yet touch her so gently? Maybe it wasn’t her he was angry with? Maybe just at the whole situation?

Too tired to attempt to figure it out, between being tortured and in pain and half-starved, she’d had little sleep since being kidnapped. A hot shower, a hot cup of tea, and a long sleep in a nice comfortable bed. That was what she craved right now.

“What time is the exfil?” she asked.

Something danced through Tate’s eyes that she couldn’t interpret. “Oh two hundred.”

“What location?” If the worst happened and they were split up, Scarlett wanted to make sure she knew the coordinates of the exfil, or at least the general direction, since she didn't have anything on her that would help her find it. Which reminded her she was still naked. Just because Tate had seen her naked the night they spent together, it didn't mean she was comfortable with him seeing her body now. They weren't together, he’d been rude and cruel to her after their time together, and he didn't seem to want to be here now. The imbalance of power with him fully clothed and her completely bare was making her uncomfortable. “Umm, do you have something I could wear, please?”

A grunt was the only response she got, but thankfully, he packed away his med kit and pulled a long-sleeve black T-shirt and a pair of pants from his pack.

When he handed them to her, she snatched them up greedily and quickly pulled the T-shirt over her head. It was several sizes too big, but she didn't care, it covered her body and gave her back a little of her sense of control over herself and her surroundings. Likewise, the pants were way too big, so she rolled them up several times, both at the cuffs and the waistband. Not perfect, especially if they had to run, but better than nothing.

Much better than nothing.

With clothing taken care of, that brought her to her next pressing need.

Embarrassment made her cheeks turn red. “Umm, I'm just going to go over there and …” Scarlett trailed off, not wanting to say out loud that she had to go pee.

With eyes narrowing, the look he threw her was close to a glare, and she had no idea why he was being such an angry, callous jerk.

Did he have no compassion for what she’d just been through?

Even if he hated her, she was a human being who had been abducted and tortured. Surely, he could keep his personal feelings out of it long enough to get her home. Then, if he chose, he could go right on back to hating her.

“I’ll go with you,” he said, already hefting his pack onto his back.

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