“Put that on,” he says before vaulting out of his side of the car.The sound of the rain slams into the vehicle, a static shout in my ears until his door shuts again.Sliding my arms into the sleeves, I pull the jacket tightly around myself, doing up the zipper at the front.I ache at the warmth of it, the smell of leather and of him.
The walk to the front door of the house turns out to be treacherous.The pounding rain is freezing on contact – and not just the ground, either.The trees that line the drive and front walkway to the house are so shiny with ice that they appear to be candy-coated.
Curse doesn’t tell me to be careful, doesn’t tell me to watch my step.Instead, he grips me hard, keeping me close, half dragging me the last few steps until we’re in the shelter of the house’s front porch.He makes short work of unlocking the door, first with a key, and then by tapping a security code into the pad below the doorbell.
“I’ll turn the water on,” he says once we’re inside.“So you can have a shower and warm up.”
“Me?You’re the one who didn’t have a jacket!”
His hair is clumped into glossy black curls falling forwards over his eyes.His black shirt is completely soaked, sticking to his skin.He has to be uncomfortably cold.
“Doesn’t matter,” he says.“Cold’s never caused me any trouble.”
“Yeah.Because you’ll be so much use to me if you keel over from hypothermia,” I say with a roll of my eyes.“I’ve already seen you knocked out of commission once.I’d prefer not to repeat that experience.”
“Really?”he asks.
“Of course!”I exclaim.I want to smack him for implying that I’d be completely untouched by the sight of him so sick, so vulnerable.I wonder what he’d say if he found out that I’d tried to put myself between him and the gun.That I’d told Alessandro to shoot me, because I would have rather taken a bullet than have left him.
He’d probably tell me I am a fucking idiot.
I don’t smack him, instead peeling out of the jacket, heavier now with the cold water it’s taken on.I hang it on a bare hook near the door.Together, we track down the water shut-off and get that running.
“Same rules apply here as in Toronto,” Curse tells me as we mount a staircase to the second floor.“You are not to be out of my sight.Until we know where Messina is, I can’t give you the free reign over this place that you had over my house in Montreal.”
“Understood,” I reply.He leads me to a large bathroom on the second floor.As the lights come to life, white marble and golden accents are illuminated.
“Get in the shower.”When I try to make eye contact with him after the clipped command, I can’t, because he’s taking off his wet shirt and it’s currently covering his face.With his eyes hidden, I let my own trail down the magnificent brutality of his body.The ink, the scars, the untamed energy of the muscles beneath them.
But soon, his shirt will be all the way off, and he’ll catch me staring at him.So I hustle away.This bathroom has no shower curtain, but a shower enclosed in all glass walls.I won’t have the same privacy I had showering this morning.But Curse doesn’t seem keen on watching me.At least, not the way that I was watching him.He’s got his wet jeans off now, and is folding everything neatly.Once that’s done, he leans back against the counter in his black underwear with his arms crossed over his bare chest, eyes locked on the door.
“Aren’t you at least going to wrap a warm towel around yourself or something?”I fret aloud, picking at my nails instead of undressing.He hasn’t even dried his hair.“You’re going to catch a cold.”
“I never catch colds.”
“OK, well, you’re making me nervous just standing there with your bare feet on the cold marble floor after coming in from the freezing rain.”
“You keep talking like that,” he replies, “and I’m going to assume you’re inviting me into the shower with you.”
Despite my own chill from being outside, despite my wet hair and the goosebumps spangling my skin, heat comes like a bolt down my spine.That heat spreads to the place between my legs, and before I can let fear stop me, I stammer, “Well, maybe I am.”
Finally, he looks at me instead of the door.And, crap, maybe I’ve gone too far.Annoyed him, irritated him, pushed him beyond the boundaries of whatever the hell this is between us.Because when his eyes fall on me, they’re not empty, not cold, but flaming with some terrible raw energy that I can’t name.They bore into me, make me want to run.
But there’s nowhere to go.Nowhere to retreat except for the shower behind me, with its transparent walls, its lack of lock.Heart in my throat, I fumble behind me, opening the shower door and stepping inside.Before the door can shut, Curse is suddenly there, moving with the liquid elegance of a panther in my midst.His hand catches on the shower door.I can see the glass edge of it pressing into that solitary A on his palm.
“You’re going to run from me now, angel?”he says, his tone nearly mocking.“You’re going to try to hide?”
“Why do you call me that?”I whisper.
“Why do you say shit that you don’t mean?”Curse shoots back.“Stop worrying about how cold I am.Stop telling me I’d be welcome in this fucking shower with you.Because we both know that it’s not true.”
And now, I’m fucking pissed.Because he doesn’t get to decide what I do and do not mean.My jaw working, I let the rage harden in me, turn to courage.I rip off my sweater and throw it over his shoulder.Then, I do the same with my bra, leggings, panties, and socks.Until I’m completely naked, hot and cold and terrified and so angry I want to hurt him, hurt myself, make somebody fucking pay.For everything I’ve been through.For everything that’s ruined us.
And maybe I’ve succeeded, at least a little.Curse’s body contracts as if I’ve struck him, stabbed him.As if my nakedness is a weapon.His eyes are so dark, and the only word I can use to describe the expression in them now is agony.He drags them from my face to the pebbled points of my nipples, then lower, over my belly before they come to a stop, as if trapped somehow, at the place between my legs.
“Aurora,” he groans.Again, like he’s in pain.The glass door is pressing into his palm so hard that it’s created a bloodless strip of white flesh there.The A stands out even more now, like black paint on pale paper.
“What?”I ask.“I’m getting in the shower.Just like you asked.”When I shiver, it detracts from my bold act.Curse swears under his breath, then steps all the way in with me, turning on the water until an exquisitely hot spray rains down.I can’t help but let my eyes fall shut in pleasure, sighing.When I open them again, Curse is still here with me, no longer looking angry but fevered, his dark irises scraping over my exposed skin.
