Page 25 of Betrayed Kidnapped Mate

I climb into the shower, scrubbing every inch of my body and using the razor left for me on the sink. When I get out, I feel like a new woman, and I dress in the nightgown I was wearing the night before.

“Here,” Bigby says when I step out into the hallway. His cheeks tinge with pink when he looks down at me, though this is what I was wearing the night before.

He’s holding out my bag. Someone must have gone back into the compound to get our stuff.

It hits me fully, for the first time—we’re going to be staying with Bigby for the foreseeable future.

“Thank you,” I mumble, and he clears his throat before turning back into the living room. Just beyond him, over his shoulder, I can see Kaila watching Beauty and the Beast in the living room.

Chapter 13 - Bigby

“But then, what happens when the—” Kaila trails off, her chin tucking into her chest for a moment. We’re sitting on the couch, having spent the day doing all of my—and apparently, Kaila’s—favorite things.

We took a trip back to the beach with Araya, had chicken tacos with meat I grilled, built a city out of blocks, and watched Beauty and the Beast twice. Kaila is completely tuckered out but keeps trying to soldier on, waking herself every few minutes.

“What happens when the…” she tries again, rubbing her eyes. I smile at her, resisting the urge to reach out and tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. Kaila has been stuck to my side all day, and I’ve felt Rosa watching me the whole time. I want to prove to her that I’m a good man and will be the best father. But I don’t think Rosa has forgiven me just yet.

“I think Bigby can tell you about it tomorrow,” Rosa murmurs, scooping her up. Kaila immediately turns, tucking into Rosa’s chest, and I can tell it’s difficult for Rosa to carry her. I should have offered, but the two of them are already on the move to the bedroom.

Sighing, I grab my things from the coffee table and retire to my bedroom, stepping into the shower. I can’t stop thinking about Rosa—my eyes skimming over her body when she’s not looking. It feels wrong, like a violation, because I know she doesn’t want me back, but I can’t stop myself.

Memories keep flashing into my head, reminding me that I know exactly what she feels like, what it’s like to be inside her. I remember the first day we met, the look she gave me, how she’d squeezed her thighs together, and I saw it—the immediate and undeniable attraction. I’d had the feeling that if we met in a club instead of a classroom, I could have had her up against a wall in the bathroom right then and there.

Now, I brace my arm against the shower wall, looking down, letting the water run down my body. I think about Rosa on the beach the other day, in a swimsuit borrowed from Linnea, her tan skin shining golden in the sun, glistening with whatever oil she slathered on.

I think of her hair falling over her shoulders, her strong chin, the perfect pucker of her lips, and suddenly without warning, the image of her topless, riding me, flashes into my brain, and before I know what’s happening, my hand is on my dick.

Rosa will be staying in my house with me for the foreseeable future, and I don’t know if I will make it through.

I pump my hand, picturing Rosa against the wall, bent over my bed, laid out on my kitchen table. I want to take her everywhere in the house. I want to have her in every way I’ve already had her, and then more.

Missing Rosa is a complex, multi-faceted creature. I miss the way she smells, miss her little quips. Miss always having someone in the room who can challenge me. I miss being inside her, miss the perfect ‘o’ she makes with her lips the first time I slide inside of her. I miss the way we slot together, accommodating to fit each other.

I miss the way our bare chests pressed together, her nipples scraping against my skin.

“Fuck,” I whisper, coming as the water sluices over me. The relief is only temporary—I know that when I see Rosa again tomorrow morning, this pressure will build up again. My body doesn’t want any release—it wants her.

After finishing up in the shower, I towel off and throw on a pair of loose sweatpants, grabbing my water bottle and heading to the kitchen to fill it before bed. I freeze when I walk into the living room, and Rosa is sitting at my chess table, her chin in her hands.

I had a game going. She’s continued it, moving the pieces on both sides of the board, playing herself. For some reason, it makes me unbelievably sad—it’s like I can picture all the things she’s had to do like this for the past six years. One-sided.

“Hey,” I say as softly as I can, trying not to startle her. She doesn’t even look up at me.

“Hey,” she says back, reaching out to move the white rook. It’s like I’m paralyzed, standing here, watching her. “Well?” she says, a moment later, “Are you going to sit down, or what?”

This is the first invitation I’ve received from her, so I jump at the chance, setting my water bottle down on the coffee table and sitting down across from her. I watch her finish her game, then she silently starts setting the pieces out for a new game.

I grab the black pieces and line them up, pawns first, orienting each of the pieces so they face perfectly across the board.

“So anal,” Rosa mutters, glancing up at me, though there’s a small smile on her lips.

“I seem to recall you enjoying that quite a bit,” I say, raising an eyebrow at her. She blushes, shakes her head, and looks down at the board.

“When someone begs for something like you did, the greatest joy is in giving them what they want,” Rosa throws back, and my chest lights up like it remembers how it used to be between us, the constant back and forth. The ever-present challenge.

“I’m pretty sure I still have scratches on my back from that night,” I counter, and she ignores me, playing her first piece.

The room falls silent as we trade moves back and forth, neither conceding a single piece. I actually feel a bead of sweat slide down my back—playing on my own all these years didn’t keep me fresh enough to be playing against Rosa. Whenever I consider my move, thinking I’ve thought of every possible outcome, she takes her turn in a second, doing something I hadn’t expected or considered.

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