Page 50 of Sigma

“Rape you?” He frowns. “I think not. I am not a good man. At all. But I am not that kind of man, Corinna.”

“Above rape, but not above kidnapping and murder.”

“One must draw a line somewhere.” He stares into me, with that impossible to read gaze of his. “Unwilling presence here with me notwithstanding, have you been egregiously mistreated?”

“Aside from forcing me to strip naked in front of you, burning my clothes, and cutting a dress off me, you mean?” I arch my eyebrow back at him.

A snort. “Aside from that, yes.”

I shake my head. “I do not understand you,” I say. “Am I supposed to just be fine with that, simply because you haven’t beaten, raped, or killed me?”

I don’t wait for a reply, I leave the bed and use the bathroom. When I’m done washing my hands, I look up and find Apollo in the entrance to the bathroom.

He’s naked.

My lungs seize. Jaw again drops open.

He’s naked.

I can’t look away, can’t blink or move or process what I’m seeing.

It’s pointing at me, angled straight away from his body. Straight as an arrow, as thick as my wrist, or nearly so. Pink, with veins rippling through the skin. Broad, plump, round head. Heavy sac beneath it, taut against his body. Not shaved—a light dusting of black hair around the base, narrowing to a thin trail leading up to his navel.

As I stare at it, his member rises, lifting upward slowly, almost imperceptibly, thickening and lengthening. After a moment, it ceases to expand, standing flat upright against his belly, the tip touching his navel.

Several inches of thick, erect male flesh.

I swallow hard, trying to talk myself into turning away. Closing my eyes. Something.

React,damn you, I snarl at myself.

I turn around. “I’m sorry.” I don’t know why I said that—he came in here of his own volition, naked, knowing I was in here.

“I am not ashamed of my nakedness,” he says. “I work hard to look the way I do.”

“So do I,” I say, whispering. “That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point, Corinna?”

I shake my head. “Choice. Being here at all is not my choice—for all that this room is beautiful, you still lock me in here. When you threaten me with a knife and tell me to take off my clothes, that’s not me having a choice in being naked in front of you.”

“I see. But if I gave you a choice, you would leave.” He’s closer, somehow. I don’t dare turn around—if I do, I’ll keep staring at the monster between his thighs. “And that does not yet suit my purposes.”

“Why are you naked?”

A huff, a soft breath of laughter. “Because I sleep naked. I’m not going to alter my habit simply for your prudish American sensibilities. Also, I’m about to take a shower. Which requires being naked.” He’s so close. I can almost feel his body against mine. “Are you afraid of my naked body, Corinna?”

“I’m afraid of you.”

“Probably prudent.” I feel his breath on the back of my neck; I don’t move a muscle—If I do, I’ll feel the thing push against my butt. “But that’s not what I asked. Are you afraid of my nakedness?”

I don’t answer.

“Are you, Corinna? Can you not answer so simple a question?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Why?” I feel something soft and warm brush against my left buttock. I flinch, gasp. “I am not restraining you, yet you do not flee. You could go into the other room. You complain of being nude, or nearly so, but yet you do not avail yourself of the closet full of clothes mere feet away. They are mine, yes, but they would cover you.” He pauses. Breathes. Each breath is warm on the back of my neck, making my skin prickle and tingle. “I admit I regret cutting that dress off you.”