Free His to Take by Shayla Black Page B

fits. If not, I’ll find something else.”
    Would he try to attack her while she was in the bathroom changing or was she just
     sounding paranoid? If he hadn’t violated her while she’d been tied up and passed out,
     why would he try to assault her now?
    “Sure.”
    With a last glance over her shoulder at him, she peered up into his craggy face. God,
     he really was so masculine. She’d never been one of those girls who got off on having
     a guy who was a lot bigger than her. She’d always wrinkled her nose at bodybuilder
     types. Sure, she didn’t mind tilting her head back a bit to kiss a guy, but . . .
     She shook her head. So she was thinking of kissing Joaquin now? After she’d just worried
     he might attack her? Where the hell was her head?
    She sighed and eased into the bathroom, shutting the door even though it no longer
     locked. She tore into the sack. A new pair of panties with the tags on them. They
     were a little big, but not bad. Same with the jeans. The bra, however, was a joke.
     Thorpe’s girlfriend had clearly been more gifted in the boob department than she was.
     If she wore it, that bit of lace would only bunch under the T-shirt he’d included.
     She shoved the pretty white undergarment back in the sack and donned the blue cotton
     shirt. Like everything else, it was a little big, but hey, it would conceal the fact
     she wasn’t wearing a bra.
    Shoving her nightshirt in the sack as well, she opened the door and found Joaquin
     waiting. His stare fell on her, intent, evaluating. Heat transformed his green eyes
     and sucked her in. Their gazes locked. Under the too-big shirt, she felt her nipples
     bead.
    She swallowed. “Everything fits well enough.”
    No way was she going to tell him about the bra.
    Slowly, he nodded, scanning her body. “Your feet cold? You need socks?”
    If he was a murderous freak, would he care? “Please.”
    “I’ll hunt you up some.” He inched closer, as if he feared spooking her. Then he stretched
     out his hand. “Come sit with me. Can we talk about what’s going on again? I’ll bark
     less.”
    Bailey really didn’t want to. But if this truly was happening to her, it looked serious.
     And the only way she would be able to leave Joaquin’s captivity was to listen and
     do her best to cooperate.
    Sucking in a breath, she hesitated, then put her hand in his. Electricity pinged up
     her arm. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but he focused even more intently
     on her. Her heart stuttered. The connection was surprisingly intense. Her head spun
     as he led her to the bed.
    When he wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her to the mattress, she stiffened.
    Before she could protest, he turned away to grab the chair from the desk and drag
     it in front of her. He plopped down and hoisted one foot on the bed frame, his big
     legs spread. “Tell me about the rest of your dream. Where does it start for you?”
    She jerked her stare away from the faded denim between his thighs. “Always the same.
     I look down and find that my pink shirt is red for some weird reason. I know I need
     to leave the house. I’m not sure why but I’m convinced that I must be quiet. There’s
     something all over the walls. Paint . . . or blood. I don’t know. Anyway, I walk into
     the hall and head toward the door at the end, but the red stuff is around my feet,
     and I almost slip on it. It’s warm. Then when I reach the door, I realize it’s all
     over my hands. I start to panic. The wind blows the door open, then I’m outside.”
     She shrugged. “You know the rest.”
    “You don’t see anyone else?”
    “No.”
    “Dead or alive?”
    “No,” she reiterated.
    He crossed his arms over his chest, stared at her for an unnerving moment, then rose
     and left the room. Bailey stared at the closed door with a frown. What had she said
     or done? Was he coming back?
    Why was the thought that he might not upsetting?
    Before she could puzzle that out, he