I shove the tray, and what’s left of its contents, onto the nightstand.
My belly is full, the box of processed pastries is half gone. The snickers bar is no more. And the last water bottle is half empty.
With a sigh, I haul the blankets up to my chin.
The motion wafts the scent of male up from beneath the covers.
It’s the same collection of scents that are currently clinging to my skin after that shower, but the bedding smells––I take a deep inhale––warmer.
My teeth clench and I stare up at the ceiling.
Stop sniffing the bed.
You cannot find this man attractive.
Okay, so that’s unreasonable, because he is, objectively, very handsome. Like super handsome. Like so fucking handsome it makes me weak in the knees. But, and this is a big one, he’s also a killer. Not to mention my kidnapper and jailor.
My lungs fill on another deep inhale.
Screw it.
For tonight. For the next few hours. I’ll let the scent of a big strong man comfort me, while I pretend I’m here by choice, on a date, and not because some dead asshole cheated on his wife.
