We were untouchable.
Taking the liberty of her lack of vision, I placed the first item on her head. A sexy, frilly maid’s cap. It perched on her head, gracing her damp black hair like a sad crown.
Her head dipped, shielding her eyes. Her body convulsed, trying hard to maintain the blankness she thought would be her salvation.
Tugging her hands, I muttered, “Let go of the towel.”
She cowered away.
Growling under my breath, I wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her firm. “Don’t make me ask again. You’re not new to this game. Let go of the towel.”
Her eyes flew wide, fighting my hold. “No!”
Goddammit, she tested me. A headache brewed behind my eyes. I sighed. “Make me ask you one more time. Go on...”
She froze, breathing hard. A battle broke out between us. I should never have let her get away with what she pulled at the stables. She thought I’d softened. She thought I’d be lenient. If anything, she’d proven my errors and I’d go above and beyond to ensure I didn’t falter again.
Ever.
She had to learn that the day granted hope and happiness, but I stole it. She had to face that the night hid evil and darkness, but my soul was blacker.
There would be no winning. None.
We didn’t speak, but our eyes shouted, wrapping us tight with unsaid tension.
Finally, she lowered her chin in defeat. Her death grip on the fluffy material loosened, allowing it to flutter to the floor.
Ordinarily, I would’ve rewarded her. A kind word. A gentle gesture. But that was before I learned I couldn’t give her any softness. She needed a firm, masterful hand. Otherwise, she’d make my life a living hell until I stole hers.
My eyes latched onto her naked body.
I paused.
Fuck.
Nila Weaver was like the needle she used to make her livelihood. Long, sculptured. Muscle tone so defined, her hips defied her supple skin, almost piercing her. Her breasts were small but high with perfect dark nipples.
My gaze dropped between her legs. The part of her I’d intimately explored already. I expected an inexperienced girl to not maintain her pussy, but there was only a strip of black hair, hiding and teasing at the same time.
My heartbeat thickened.
And then I noticed the bruises.
Everywhere. On her ribcage, hips, thighs, and arms.
I prodded at a particularly large purple one. “Who did this?”
She crossed her knees, clamping a hand over her breasts.
I swallowed hard, hating that my cock twitched.
Her mouth parted, then understanding flared. “Not who. What.” Looking down at herself, she whispered, “The perils of vertigo.”
I had no reply to that. She already had a condition that hurt her.
I hated that I understand that...more than she knew.
“Put your arm down.” I slapped it away from her breasts. She stiffened, but left it by her side, standing taller than before.
