His Captive, The Unabridged Collection: Billionaire Dark Romance by Meg Watson

covered me in disbelief.
    Someone… bathed me. Dressed me.
    He bathed me.
    The thought was completely bizarre, and the prospect flashed through my mind like a video montage. Passed out in some tub, being washed down? The image in my head wasn't like any prison scrub down. It wasn't quick, or utilitarian. I imagined Rafe sliding the cloth over my skin, cleaning me like some prize. Cradling me in his arm like when he let me drink from the glass. I saw his fingers in my hair, massaging the shampoo through, gently cupping water in his hands and rinsing it from me.
    The visions felt a little too real to be fantasy. Maybe I'd been awake when he bathed me, and I just couldn't remember it.
    I should be terrified.
    But somehow, I wasn’t. I was clean. I had a bit of that homely satisfaction I sometimes felt at Aunt Rinna’s after some chore was done well: this is clean now. Did that come from him? Was it part of the memory?
    Struggling, I tried to push aside a pervasive fog, to see if I could remember more clearly. Did I know? I couldn’t tell, but I didn’t have an echo of fear or anything like that. It was like a dream, almost, that I had forgotten but I knew it wasn’t a nightmare.
    I could remember water. I could almost feel the heat and the gentle rocking as the warm liquid moved around me. Where was I? Was I with him?
    The image slipped away from me and I shook my head, cursing. It was so close, so almost there. I closed my eyes and tried to relax, tried to feel it again. That warmth. The feeling of being cradled.
    Yes, he’s there.
    I felt his arm behind me, a soft voice in my ear. I felt my hair being tugged as it was cleaned, pulling my head back. I was so comfortable. I heard myself sigh, felt the twang and swell of warmth between my hips, between my legs as my knees fell open...
    This is fucked up, Jolie. You should be terrified.
    I heard the click of approaching footsteps, followed by the the hard, loud thunk of the deadbolts being unlocked. My heart absolutely soared for a moment before I remembered that the only thing that could come through that door would be trouble of one kind or another.
    Rafe?
    Instantly I chastised myself for getting excited at the prospect of Rafe coming through. He was the one keeping me here, though it was definitely preferable to whatever Bronson had in mind. I was sure of that much, at least.
    The heavy door slid open, and Rafe slipped through, letting the only barrier between me and freedom creak and thunk shut loudly behind him.
    “Ah, you're up. I hadn't expected you'd come around so soon.”
    I glared at him, though I wasn't sure he could see my expression. I could certainly see him, my eyes having adjusted to the darkness of the room long before he entered. I spoke with just as much venom as I could muster.
    “Me either, to be perfectly honest.”
    “Yes, well... that was unfortunate, true enough. But it was necessary. There will be no more of that, you have my word.”
    I watched him carefully as he walked in, stepped to the back of the wardrobe and brought the chair out, then sat in it. With my legs folded beneath me where I sat I knew I seemed too subservient, but I wasn’t sure I trusted my legs to get me to standing.
    “I’m chained,” I said, the outrage perhaps too plain in my voice.
    Try to make him like you this time, Jolie. Try. Please.
    “My apologies,” he said, sounding like he meant it.
    “Why am I chained?” As much as I wanted to, I couldn't stop my indignation from spilling out. “There are bars on the windows, locks on the door… Why bother?”
    One shoulder rose and then fell in a small shrug.
    “It seems you are stronger than you look,” he said simply.
    I couldn’t help the smirk. What did that mean? What did I do?
    Act like you’re flattered.
    “I’ve been told that,” I replied, my eyes level with his. He seemed to have adjusted to the low light and cocked his head slightly, nodding. I felt like our gazes connected precisely across the