Prisoned: A Dark Twisted Erotic Standalone by Marni Mann Page A

would lay. I hadn’t felt his eyes while I was washing up, but it was all I felt now.
    “My turn.”
    His hand grazed my waist as he passed me. It was brief. Gentle. Unneeded because there was enough room for him to walk by. I stopped breathing when I felt it. There wasn’t any panic this time, just a warm tingle that dipped between my thighs.
    I hurried to the blanket and sat in the middle, unsure of which side he would want. I crossed my legs and tried to focus on my hands. He’d given me minutes of privacy whenever I’d asked for it by looking the other way. It was the least I could do for him. But when I heard the water turn on and his hands rub together, as though he were lathering the soap between them, I wanted to peek.
    I put every bit of effort into keeping my face pointed down…but still, I glanced up.
    His shirt was draped over the corner of the sink and his sudsy long, strong fingers were washing his neck. My eyes traveled to his forearms. They were covered in a dusting of dark hair, the grooves in his biceps and triceps so well defined. His shoulders were wide, squaring off the top of his back, and the muscles narrowed at his waist. From this angle, with his pants sitting low on his hips, I could only see the side of his abs. They were lightly covered in hair, and there was more across his chest.
    “You’ve seen it all before.”
    Now that he was looking at me dead-on, I saw the true sculpture of his muscles. They were tighter. Stronger. So much more powerful than I had thought.
    How could something look so beautiful inside this cell?
    I shook my head. “I haven’t seen that.”
    “It’s just me, Kyle.”
    “No.” I looked him over again. “It’s not just you. It’s a very different, very built, very manly version of you.”
    He left his shirt on the sink and walked over to me, grabbing my hands and lifting me to my feet. He grasped my neck to hold my face steady, squeezing like he had outside the restroom at the bar.
    “You’re a much different version of you, too, Kyle. You fought to get that business. You’re fiercely independent. You’re healthy. You take care of yourself. You can afford to, and you want to.”
    Clearly, he didn’t know anything about me. I hadn’t fought, nor was I independent. But I couldn’t tell him any of that.
    Discussing our weight was a much simpler and safer topic. “I was so skinny back then. We both were.”
    “You were gorgeous back then. You’re even more gorgeous now. And this body”—his eyes dipped to my mouth—“is fucking perfect.” His hands moved down my sides, stopping at my waist, squeezing my hips. “You’ve filled out in all my favorite spots.” His body seemed to move closer, my chest pressing into him. “The ones I like to touch”—he leaned his face down, his lips kissing the outside of my neck—“and lick.”
    A shiver ran through me when I exhaled. I didn’t know how I wasn’t naked already, stripped of everything, including my ability to make a decision. But, in my mind, there was no decision to be made. There was no guilt. No fear. Whatever Garin wanted to do to me, wherever he wanted to touch me, I wouldn’t deny him. I couldn’t. We’d gone through too much. We had survived The Heart. I had been pulled away from him, and we’d been brought back together and put in this cell. That all had to mean something.
    “Let’s get some sleep,” he said.
    He didn’t wait for me to answer before he slipped his body away from mine and sat me on the blanket. Then, he moved in behind me, his head resting on the makeshift pillow. “Come here.”
    I kept my back to him and cuddled into his chest. He was so warm, his grip so strong in the way he held me. The scent of the soap was different on him than it was on my hands. It turned so masculine on his skin, tasty and almost erotic.
    He slid me further back, our bodies now pressed together. He didn’t ask if I wanted to be moved. He just read me and gave me what I needed.
    But he