Trinity
For the next half hour, I remain in the spacious living room, my mind as empty as the desert that surrounds me.
I analyzed him accurately, but…the fact that he was right about me crushes any pride I feel over my success.
I have no idea why I kissed him.
The heat of his mouth on mine burns in my memory like a hot poker. His touch was…enticing. His fingers holding, possessing, claiming. I wanted more of them, more of him.
The way his lips moved against mine… As furious as he makes me, I’ve never experienced anything like the sizzling lust that flooded my system.
He slips past all my defenses and turns my body inside out. Creates a strange, unstable need within me.
And I can’t allow him to continue doing this.
I have to find a way out of here. If I just distract Brody long enough to get some sort of distress signal to Finn, maybe I could?—
The creak of a door swinging open stiffens my spine.
The bathroom is behind me, and so is Brody. His heavy, pointed stare settles on my shoulder blades. I feel unsafe with my back to such a predator, but swiveling around to face himwould be admitting defeat in another one of our weird little battles.
So I stay put.
Brody comes to stand in front of me, his wet, chiseled form wrapped in a towel, scars and bruises decorating his exposed skin.
The wet nest of spikes on top of his head draws my eye. I itch to comb my fingers through those dark strands.
He nods toward the bathroom. “All yours.”
If I weren’t so desperate to get away from him and scrub the grime of today off me, I might have feigned disinterest. Instead, I shoot to my feet without protest and hurry to clean up.
As soon as I’m inside—surrounded by pristine, modern lines and bright white granite counters and tiles—I try to shut the door, but a foot blocks the wood.
Brody’s standing in the threshold.
Now he’s coming inside.
He walks farther in and leans against the wall by the sink counter, staring like he’s waiting for something to happen.
“What now?” I cross my arms over my mid-section.
A hint of a smirk plays at his mouth. “Property surveillance.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I groan. This is us and that disgusting gas station bathroom all over again. “Look, Brody. I just want to take a shower. To relax, by myself, in private, for five fucking minutes after you’ve dragged me to hell and back all day. This room doesn’t even have a window. Could you find it in your big, buff heart to leave me alone?”
My attempt at pleading glances right off his smug, striking face.
“Nope. You shower. I watch.”
“Tell me something. When you’re going through basic training to become an enforcer, is ‘How to Be a Pervert 101’ part of the curriculum?”
“Your five fucking minutes are almost up.” He shows me his teeth.
Some thick thread of sanity deep within snaps altogether.
“Fine.” I draw my tank top up and over my head, exposing myself in all my bra-less glory to the man who abducted me after my college graduation.
The flood of annoyance smothering me like a too-thick comforter leaves no room for shame.
