Page 44 of Toxic

I start with the drawers since they’re the most obvious place for him to store all his secrets, which is probably why they’re only full of useless things—bits of paper, change, business cards for landscaping and the like. Closing them in disgust, I move to the dresser and snoop through each drawer, even pausing once to bring a white T-shirt up to my nose. Furious with myself, I throw it back in the drawer and slamitshut.

My next area of attack is his closet, but I have to stop in awe when I see the shelves lined with meticulously organized clothes. My memories of him are so rooted in our time together at Blackthorne that the image of sophistication is jarring as a reality. The drawers and shelves in the closet yield no more than belts, cuff links, and shoes. As I investigate his bathroom, I’m starting to think I won’t find anything after all. I pull out drawer after drawer until one thing does catch my eye. As I pick it up, dumbfounded, I almost can’t believe what I’mseeing.

It’s my security ID from Blackthorne. The one he’d read the first day we met. Probably kept it as a trophy when he pulled off his big escape, the sick bastard. I leave the ID where I find it. The reminder of what I’ve done may get him off, but it makes bile rise in the back of my throat. I was such a stupid,stupidgirl.

I put everything back in its place and double-check to make sure it’s all just as I found it. Usually, I’d feel guilty for invading someone else’s privacy, but as far as I’m concerned if Gracin didn’t want me snooping in his things, he shouldn’t have locked me in hishouse.

“Find what you were looking for?” Gracin says from his bedroom doorway. He doesn’t seem upset, but based on the significant amount of control he’s shown over the past few weeks, I couldn’t tell even if he were. Not that I giveadamn.

“I wasn’t looking for anything specific,”Isay.

“Weren’t you?” hereturns.

Rolling my eyes, I make to move past him, but he blocks the doorway. My heart kicks into high gear. “What are youdoing?”

“I just want to talk,”hesays.

“I don’t. I think we did enough talking the other day. You made yourself perfectlyclear.”

He boxes me in, one arm wrapping around my stomach to maneuver in front of me. “I don’t think I did,” he says and pushes me backward so he can close the doorbehindhim.

The sound of the lock echoes in my ears. “Letmeout.”

“No.”

That’s it?Justno?

“Gracin,” I begin, and he stills. I remember what happened the last time I said his name. What he did to me because he liked it so much. But that won’t happen again. “You can’t keep me hereforever.”

“I can,” he says. “AndIwill.”

“Why?” I ask, throwing my hands up. “You got what you wanted. You’re out of prison. You’ll take care of Salvatore, and you don’t need my help for that. You gain nothing from keepingmehere.”

The arm around my waist tightens, and the next thing I know, he’s over me on the bed, his body pinning me down. I freeze, overcome with a tumult of emotions and memories, neither of which arewelcome.

“If you don’t want a knee in your balls, you need to let me up right now,” I say withforcedcalm.

His arms braced on either side of my head, his mouth dipping low to my throat, I can feel his heartbeat against mine and the soft rasp of his breathing against my throat. As he moves against me, getting comfortable, I realize this is the first human contact I’ve had since...everything. And even though I hate him, even though he’s the cause of it all, I wilt, my hands goingaroundhim.

And I hate myselfforit.

Maybe even more than Ihatehim.

What is broken inside me that I look for love in the worst places? Was it programmed inside me from birth or is it a product of my parent’s neglect? Am I just so fucked up that I’ll take affection wherever I can get it, even if it’s from the worst possiblesource?

He drops down to his side, and his arms go around me urging me to roll with him until I’m plastered againsthisside.

“This doesn’t mean I don’t want to kill you,” I say against histhroat.

“I know,” he says solemnly. “I’ll let you kill me later, just let meholdyou.”

I bristle at his words, but my anger lacks bite. My body needs the comfort more than I thought. My raw heart lifts as he strokes my hair and down my back, his hand coming to rest against my hip.Tears threaten, but I ignore them and press closer to the sanctuary ofhisbody.

“Make me forget,” I whisper, my tongue flicking out to sample the familiar taste of the skin at his throat. “If you’re going to keep me here and want to hold me, then you can help eraseeverythingelse.”

He doesn’t speak, but he does as I ask, his mouth finding mine as his hand knocks my legs apart and finds my clit with unerring precision. I arch up to meet his touch, and within minutes, I’m clinging to his arms as I battle my ferociousresponse.

“Don’t fight it,” he says against my lips. “Let me give ittoyou.”