Page 58 of Captive Audience

He ran me through the log-in details, then showed me how to navigate to the recorded footage.

“The cameras are motion detection, so if you click here, it’ll take you back to the last activity in the room. See”—he pointed to the screen—“there’s us walking through the living room just now. Or if you know the date and time of an event, you can scroll through the list of recordings on the sidebar.”

It all seemed pretty straightforward.

“Do you need me to help you find the footage you’re looking for?”

“No!” I spun quickly to face him. “I mean, I can take it from here. Thanks for your help.”

“No problem. I’ll be out in the living room. Just holler if you need me.”

When I could no longer hear Finn’s footsteps, I sat in the chair and looked over the files.

The first one I clicked on was from our farce of a wedding—the part where I was laid out on the sofa and Rook had just finished using something that looked like an itty-bitty screwdriver to fiddle with my ring.

A moment later, he leaned in and gently kissed my forehead. The gesture was kind, almost caring, if the brute had the capacity for that sort of thing. Then he frowned like he was overthinking his life choices, cradled my face in his big hands, and pressed his lips to mine. He lingered longer than he ought to have for locking lips with an unconscious woman. But still, the kiss wasn’t obscene. It was…tender. Almost like a kiss goodbye. I wasn’t sure why that made my chest tighten, but it did.

I opened my email, dragged a copy of the entire ceremony across, and sent it to myself. That footage would be crucial if Rook didn’t honor his promise of an annulment and I had to fight him in court.

Now to travel farther back in time.

Rook pacing the living room.

Me at the breakfast bar while Rook made me breakfast.

Aha. Found what I was looking for.

Rook and me in the kitchen drinking bottled water after we’d just gotten out of the shower. I was wearing one of his white button-down shirts, and my wet hair trailed down my shoulders. Rook leaned against the counter in only a pair of sweats, arms folded across his broad chest.

Damn. It really wasn’t fair that such a bad man could look so, so good.

After tossing the empty water bottle into the trash, Rook grabbed me under the arms, lifted me onto the island counter,then proceeded to feast on me as if he were a starving man at an all-you-can-eat pussy buffet.

My stomach clenched, and my lady parts tingled.

Letting the footage play was dangerous. I should delete the file and never think about the night we’d spent together again, but I couldn’t. Not when I watched myself come, thighs clamped around Rook’s cheeks and a look of sheer ecstasy on my face. Especially not when he rose above me with a triumphant grin, then slammed himself inside me to the hilt.

I squeezed my legs together while the moment replayed on the screen. I couldn’t take my eyes from Rook’s back and ass, and the way those muscles bunched with each of his powerful thrusts.

Jesus, I needed to take a cold shower. What the hell was wrong with me?

There were other things I couldn’t help but notice. Things that surprised me.

The way he ravished my mouth like my kiss was life-sustaining, how he protectively cupped the back of my head to stop it from hitting the counter, and the reverent expression he wore as he watched me come yet again, as if the sight of me blissing out brought him more pleasure than his own release.

I’d thought about our night together a lot since, wondering how I’d misread the situation so monumentally and let myself be manipulated by a criminal.

But I hadn’t been mistaken.

In the video of us, Rook seemed as into it as I remembered. This made things worse, because for all his lies, what I saw in those moments hadn’t been fake.

I was so confused.

Face burning and heart pounding, I spun around in the swivel chair so I didn’t have to see any more.

A moment later, I came to my senses and spun back around to snatch up the mouse.

Delete. Delete. Delete.