Other than jangling the loops and rustling the plastic, the curtain doesn’t budge.
Wear and tear or age weld it to the bar and my frustration builds further.
At a loss, I face the hot stream of water and bury myself in the shower.
Tonight was supposed to be amazing. It started that way.
Those people were so nice to me but in the end…they weren’t friends.
They didn’t care about me.
They just wanted to hurt me.
And Falco, the asshole, he came for me.
His words about it being his job echo in my sluggish thoughts and a strange, raw sensation spreads from the base of my throat and down into my chest.
The hot water is a blessing as it hides the tears that creep into my eyes and washes off the glitter and dirt clinging to my skin from the warehouse.
Ignoring Falco, I wash myself slowly but poorly as dirt reveals grazes on my knees and palms and one angry cut near my ankle.
The weight of the water sends the pins in my hair clattering down into the bath and I have to wrestle the others out of my curls before they get too tangled.
As I’m running my fingers through my hair, a growing bruise on my wrist catches my attention.
It’s from Falco.
In those few terrifying seconds, the sight of him throwing himself forward to catch me was incredible. Somehow, he caught me.
He held onto me like I was the most precious thing in the world and it’s the most important anyone has ever made me feel.
Over and over he spoke to me, making me feel safe even as he pulled me to safety.
It’s hard to match that Falco with the one standing in the bathroom doorway like he’s made of stone.
As water runs down my face and neck, I run my fingertips over the bruise.
His hands were rough, expected of a retired soldier, but his grip was warm and firm.
Is it the alcohol?
Maybe it’s the bratty part of me that tried to kiss him just to force a reaction out of him, but my mind takes that tangent and runs with it.
What would those hands feel like elsewhere on my body?
A man as tough and old as him surely knows his way around a woman’s body.
He has to know all the best ways to fuck someone, how to make them feel utterly amazing and put them back together after taking them apart.
He must be single.
Everyone working for my father is denied outside commitments of any kind. In his eyes, it enforces their loyalty.
He’s definitely single.
Which means my kiss has to be his first kiss in years.
The more I think about his rough hands roaming my body, the hotter I become.
