Burn (Page 61)

The key to the handcuffs was right there, in the drawer of the bedside table. Had he thought she wouldn’t notice where he put it, within easy reach if he needed to get to it in the middle of the night in case she, say, set his hair on fire? She really, really wanted that key. He hadn’t even attempted to be secretive about where he put it, as if he didn’t see her as a potential threat – or as if he were daring her to try anything.

Either scenario was annoying. She didn’t like being helpless, and she didn’t like being written off as helpless. Even worse was the idea that he might be expecting her to go for the key, that this was a test to see if she could be counted on to not cause any trouble.

Well, hell. She didn’t want to cause trouble, at least not the kind that could get Syd hurt. Neither did she want to ask him for permission to pee. What she’d really like to do is get the key, unlock the cuffs, go to the bathroom, then slip back into bed and let him find out in the morning that she’d been free for hours and hadn’t taken advantage of the situation to go running down the passageway screaming for help. That would, logically, go a long way into proving she wasn’t going to do something stupid, which should, logically, also result in more freedom. The problem was, she didn’t know if numb-nuts responded to logic.

Another aspect was that she really, really wanted to thumb her nose at him and show him he wasn’t as much the boss as he thought he was. Was it really too much to ask that she could go to the bathroom without asking permission? That she could have one truly private moment without a man standing on the other side of the door listening to her pee?

The key was within reach. The problem was in reaching it without waking him.

She moved smoothly, easily, taking her time, listening carefully to his breathing in case the rhythm changed. The room was too dark for her to make out his expression, but still she watched for signs that she was disturbing him. She wasn’t exactly still at night, so subconsciously he might already be used to her movements. He might be accustomed to sleeping with someone anyway; Tiffany came to mind. After all, they’d been sharing a stateroom before he forced his way into hers.

Gradually she lifted herself onto her elbow. He didn’t stir, didn’t grumble. He wasn’t snoring, either, and she wished he was, because then she’d know for certain he was asleep. She balanced there on her elbow for what seemed like fifteen minutes, giving him time to sink back into deep sleep if she had disturbed him.

Slowly, careful not to touch him, she reached over and across his bare chest, her fingers stretching toward the drawer handle. Crap. She wasn’t nearly close enough.

She shifted position, got a knee under her for balance, lifted herself higher. All the while she struggled not to tug on the handcuffs, because that would wake him for certain. Or would it? If he’d awakened any of the times she’d changed positions, he hadn’t said anything.

Hovering over him, she stretched even more. She could almost reach the drawer. Impatience bit at her but she resisted it. Calm control was the key to a successful bathroom run. Very gradually she got to her feet, though she had to stay bent over to keep from putting tension on her cuffed arm. Just as gradually she placed one foot between his spread legs, for better balance. The thought of what might get kicked if he woke while she was in this position gave her a moment of unholy glee, and she almost hoped he would.

She waited some more. Thank goodness for all those Pilates and yoga classes! Core strength was important when twisting one’s body into unnatural positions for clandestine purposes.

If she slipped now, she’d fall straight down onto a half-naked Cael, and she didn’t want to know how a man like this one would react to being awakened that way. He wasn’t the average guy; the shape he was in testified to that. She saw a lot of gym rats, and his muscles weren’t like that; they were longer, more sinewed, and she’d seen scars that hadn’t come from falling off the monkey bars in grade school. He was hard and capable, and power was in every move he made.

She was much too close to him in this position. She could feel his body heat rising against her skin, hear his even breathing. For a moment she almost chickened out, almost shifted back so she could lie down beside him again. Yes, she still had to pee. Yes, she’d have to wake him up and ask permission.

No, by God, she wouldn’t. The drawer handle was so close, she couldn’t give up. Besides … enough was enough.

It wasn’t just that she wanted to go to the bathroom without asking his permission; she wanted, needed, to show him that she could get past his ridiculous precautions. She wanted to rub his face in the fact that he wasn’t such hot shit, after all. Boss, her ass.

She grasped the handle with her fingertips and held her breath as she slowly pulled the drawer open. The angle was bad, and her muscles were beginning to tremble from being held so tense for a long time. If she could have pulled the drawer straight toward her it would have been a lot easier, but she had to ease it out in a sideways motion that made her arm cramp.

There! That was far enough. She froze, to make certain the low sound of the drawer sliding hadn’t awakened Cael. He slept on, and carefully she reached out to snag the small key that lay on top of a notepad. She wasn’t home free, she still had to get the cuffs unlocked without waking him, but a pure, sweet sense of victory shot through her. Gotcha, numb-nuts!

He shot up without warning, grabbing her with his cuffed arm, flipping her onto her back, then his heavy body crashed down onto hers and they bounced. Before she could do more than squeak, he easily pried the key from her clenched fist. What the hell? His breathing had never changed; he’d given her no clue that he was awake. That wasn’t fair; it wasn’t right.

"Going somewhere?" he asked in a slightly gravelly voice.