A day later, Six released the cuff around my ankle. Seemed we’d come to a sort of agreement—I wouldn’t try to run, and he wouldn’t kill me the moment I stepped out of line.
For three days I had freedom from the wire. It also meant wherever he went, so did I. Like a shadow, or a woman from the 1950s.
“What’s the plan today?” I asked as I toweled off my hair, fresh from the shower.
Six was pulling jeans up his legs and stopped.
I looked down, confused, then smirked as I tugged one edge of the towel around my body to the side, exposing my hip.
His tongue slipped across his lips. “Are you teasing me for a reason?”
I shook my head. “You’re the one staring.”
He stepped forward, buttoning his jeans as he walked. Reaching out, he brushed the other edge of the towel away and cupped my p***y.
