“I watcheverything.” He lingers just at the tub’s edge, his eyes blazing.
“Well, unless you’re planning to showerwithme, I suggest you watch from over there.” My hand settles on the shower knob and twists. The frigid water nearly burns as it sprays my skin, but I don’t react.
Even as my nipples harden to stone under the sudden arctic temperatures.
I’ve got to stay stoic. Maintain the act.
I keep turning the knob until the water heats.
Brody doesn’t move. His eyes stay trained on my breasts.
Men reallyareeasy.
I angle my body one way, then the other, until the warm, relaxing water covers me after this shit show of a day.
I can almost forget Brody’s here in the bathroom.Almost.
With a stare as present as a hand on my skin, he’s impossible to entirely dismiss.
He remains still at the edge of the tub. A half-naked, dripping statue with a boner the size of a drainpipe.
I shut my eyes, shifting my focus to the way the water soothes my skin. I don’t ignore him, though.
“You like this.” I keep my tone level. “Voyeurism’s your thing, huh, Brody?”
No need to bother with flirting. The scene at the hotel proves that my acting isn’t up to the challenge.
Instead, I capitalize on the momentum that he himself constructed. If I can focus on that—and not on my pounding heart—I might actually survive this.
Brody obviously intended for this scenario to further humiliate me. Recognizing that instills the clarity that only rage provides.
Except with him standing so close, groping me with his eyes, lust floods my soul too. Dark, thrilling need coils through my body.
I’m doing such a good job arousing him that I’m arousing myself. This is textbook countertransference. Psychotherapy 240.
I aced that class, the same way I’m going to acethis.
He’s not privy to my lust the way I’m privy to his. So if I appear unbothered and uninterested, he’ll drive himself crazy.
After a brief hesitation, Brody steps away from the rim of the shower, water rivulets streaming down his sculpted chest. He returns to the wall by the sink and leans his back against the tile, his eyes never leaving my skin.
Good.
For this to work, I need to ensnare Brody with his own biological response.
His desire must surpass his rational thinking.
I could try to make him believe that I want his approval, that I want him to watch me. But that’s a slippery slope.
Even doing as much as I’ve done has my heart racing.
It’s scary how real my playacting feels.
I’m naked before Brody in defiance, but my body doesn’t seem to realize that.
It’s almost like I’mactuallytrying to seduce this man. Moisture gathers between my thighs as I bathe under the spotlight of his undivided attention. Goosebumps rise across my skin, and I anticipate the touch of those rough hands as if Brody swiped right on a dating app rather than abducted me like a criminal.
I’ve already proven my dedication to survival. Still, this man and I have made out twice already, and we’ve only known each other for a day.
