I wanted to fight him. I wanted to slug him. I wanted to fuck him. But mostly, I needed him to explain. “I’m not on birth control anymore,” I said, hoping that would be enough to slow him down.

The left corner of his mouth veered up. “I can use your ass just as well, sweetheart.”

“Wh-what?”

“I’ll be the first, won’t I?”

My jaw gaped open, and I managed a stunned nod. No one had done what he wanted to do, and I didn’t know how I felt about that. He’d said something similar on the island before everything had blown up in our faces.

“Good,” he said. “I’ll be the one and only then.” He disappeared through a narrow doorway, leaving me frozen on the bed.

Why his immovable attitude shocked me, I didn’t know. Everything about this night shocked me, from the instant I’d seen the note on my door to this moment as he switched on the shower.

Rafe was here, just beyond that wall. Naked.

Alive.

And wanting to fuck me in the ass.

I scooted to the end of the bed and pulled my jacket tight. With each movement, a rocking motion made my stomach drop, and a heavy ball of dread formed. I didn’t like this. I didn’t like this at all.

I tilted my head and gazed around the room. The space was tiny, bordering on claustrophobic, and a musty scent permeated the air. Up near the ceiling, where it connected with the wall, an odd-shaped window sat above the circular anchors Rafe had used to restrain me.

Directly above my head, another anchor threatened all kinds of interesting uses from the ceiling. It matched the ones on the wall. In fact, it matched the two rings on the floor at the end of the bed. They were small, the type of protruding contraption one would stub a toe on if they forgot they were there. He must have installed them because they were a custom touch, asymmetrical to the lines of the room yet aligned perfectly with the bed.

Where had he taken me? He’d said he was drugging me because I wouldn’t want to know, but that was akin to waving a red flag in front of a bull. I tiptoed through the narrow doorway, past the sound of water running behind a closed door, and trailed my palm over the table on my right. On the other side, a built-in seating area sat between two rustic wood panels. Ahead, the kitchen was unusually small, the type I’d expect to find in an RV.

Or on a boat.