Her lips formed a white stubborn line.
Slowly, he trailed a finger over the cotton covering her stomach, circling the hurt and taunting her until her pupils dilated with fear. She shivered, and sweat beaded along her honey skin. Earlier, it hadn't just been fear that prickled and dampened her flesh. She'd been aroused, too, by his fingers in her *, or maybe just from the feel of his erection at her back, from having a man attracted to her. But she'd fought it, fought him, and that had turned him on far more than the juices slicking her cunt.
His finger followed the line of her sternum, traced her collarbone, and roamed over her chin and cheek.
“What are you going to do to me?” The quiver in her voice teased the darkest pleasure centers inside him.
He leaned forward, and his touch caressed a path over her full lips, the bridge of her nose, and her slim eyebrows, drawing out her anxiety. When he reached her nose, he pinched tightly, blocking the airway. Her gaze flew to his, white-eyed and red-rimmed.
Holding her face immobile, he angled the glass beside her chin, using the mattress to balance it. As her lips opened to inhale, he poked the end of the straw between her teeth.
With his fingers clamping her nose, he used the heel of his hand to hold her head down and her jaw shut around the straw. “I'll let you breathe after you drink through the straw. If you pass out, I'll wake you up, and we'll do it again.”
Those huge brown eyes glared at him until the pressure of her lungs overpowered her stubbornness. Her throat began to work, swallowing the drug. Gorgeous, watery pools of desperation engulfed her lashes and trickled down her temples.
“Shhh.” He bent over her, without releasing her jaw and nose, and kissed the paths of her tears.
When air coughed through the straw, he set the glass on the table and lowered his face to hers. She drew heavy, greedy inhales, tucking her chin to escape him. He chased her lips, catching them with his own and sucking, teasing, enjoying the heave of her chest and her useless struggles to get away. Then he sat back.
She pulled on the restraints and gave up quickly, evidently exhausted. Her eyes slid over the room as if memorizing every detail and locked on the aquarium of mutilated awards. “I can't go outside. I can't.” Her voice crept over him, somber and resigned.
“Why did you quit?” He nodded at the aquarium.
She looked at him, her gaze wet and glazed, not really looking. “You'll see.”
He narrowed his eyes, wanting to press, but he only had twenty minutes before the Roofy took effect. So he offered the same obtuseness. “I'm going to fix you; then you'll see.”
Tuning out her objection, he strode to the closet. He yanked three duffel bags from the top shelf and stuffed them with the bulk of her wardrobe.
When she figured out what he was doing, she wailed more nonsense about not going outside until he gagged her with a balled up sock from the dresser.
He added her toiletries from the bathroom to the last duffel, followed by the empty water glass with the Roofy evidence, her powered-off phone, laptop, and his tablet.
Twenty minutes later, he found her sleeping heavily, made sure the airway in her nose was clear, and left the gag in place. Then he slid on sunglasses and entered the garage.
Empty. Not even a car. Guess that made sense since she didn't go anywhere. Snatching the garage opener from a bare shelf, he closed the doors behind him. Because it was daylight, he strolled down the street and around the block.
He returned five minutes later in a minivan, parked it in the garage, and shut the door. The van was a purchase he’d made the prior day. A dated model with tinted windows. He'd even gone as far as swiping someone's County Maids advertisement, the huge magnet now clinging to the passenger sliding door.
A hired house cleaner wasn't the best explanation for the sudden activity at a seemingly vacant home. Liv certainly wouldn't have bought it, but she was at the airport, instructing skydiving lessons, and Joshua was tied up in his coaching shit at the high school. While a nighttime capture was preferred, taking Amber during the day avoided the most suspicious neighbors.
He shouldn't have been taking her at all, but after he'd researched the disorders, an idea had formed in the back of his mind. Amber might have many uses, one being an unknowing tool in solidifying a relationship with his daughter. First, he had to redirect her attachments until all she needed was him.
As he strode down the hall and into her bedroom, his insides vibrated with excitement. When he freed her arms, removed the gag, and lifted her listless, vulnerable body against his chest, something strange shifted through him and settled around his heart. It felt warm and gentle and...uncontaminated.