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And who names his cat Cat, unbelievable. A month, I repeat in my head, you can do this and then we can figure out what to do with the debt that’s probably going to get me a one-way ticket out of Korea. I hang my head, wanting to punch a hole in the door, I can’t lose Grandpa’s home. It isn’t much, but I love it. The man practically raised me, and how did I repay him? For falling for the first guy who said a nice thing about me, only to screw me over big time. Now I’m with another who’s going to literally do the same. “Get it together,” I tell myself, taking a deep breath. “You got this.”
I let my eyes wander around the marble room—damn the bathroom is beautiful, and almost the size of my apartment. At second glance, it is the same size as my apartment. I hang the fluffy towel on a hook near the open shower. Glancing at the door, I try to locate a lock and roll my eyes, of course there isn’t one. Walking to the mirror, I stare at my reflection. My eyes look scared and bloodshot, my mascara is a little smudged under my eyes, and my hair is a mess. This is a mess. Swearing under my breath, I cover my face with my hands.
What the hell am I doing here in a mafia guy’s apartment with his cute cat? What is going to happen? Maybe a shower will do me good. I made a deal; I should own up to it. This is my fuck up. I’ve been sweating like crazy since I stepped one foot in his car, and what was that about one of his guys not touching my underwear? I need stuff to wear. I raise my arm, and yep, it’s bad, while the man smells like expensive cologne.
I strip and step into the open shower, turning the faucet and the rain expensive thingy blasts down on me, along with several other freaking spray things. I stare at his products, all top-of-the-line Korean skin and haircare routine. I squirt some product on my hands and start to lather my hair with it. I’m angry and scared, and why do I flood with wetness between my legs when I think about the way he ran his large hand through his hair while he was looking at me? The way he could make me scream with those fingers. Would he be gentle, or rough? There is a vulnerability hiding under that mask he wears so well. Could he make me come? No one besides myself has ever gotten me there. Should I fake it if he can’t?
“Stop obsessing, this is nothing but a business deal,” I tell myself.
The man is dangerous and hot, my pussy pleads. Shut up, I think, rubbing my fingers through my hair violently as foam drips down my face. Some gets into my eye, and I swear under my breath, fuck it hurts. Losing my balance a little and hitting my elbow against the faucet, cold water blasts in my face.
“Fuck,” I yell, and suddenly the shower turns ice cold. “Shit,” I swear when the cold spray hits me right in the face. “Stop!” I cry out, trying to hold my balance. I can’t see shit with my eyes closed. It feels like my eyeballs are being pierced with tiny glass shards, Korean skincare my ass. I curse while I try to find the faucet, and I start to scream the moment my hands land on soft skin.
I struggle while he covers my mouth with his big hand. “What the fuck are you doing?” he bellows. I try to open my eyes but they hurt too much.
“Get off me,” I mumble against his hand and knee him in the crotch area. An ‘oomph’ is his response, and he lets go of me. “Get out,” I yell, trying to find a way to turn the shower back to hot.
“Fuck this,”he roars. “Get out of the way, damn,” he groans while I start to shiver.
My teeth clatter and my eyes hurt, tears pool behind my closed lids. What have I gotten myself into? I shouldn’t have gone to his club. I should have never put myself on the line again. And the weight I’ve been carrying around comes crashing down. I fucked up, I should not have trusted anyone, especially a guy who said he liked me. You can’t trust anyone, and I give up, leaning against the cold tiles with my forehead, my hair running in streaks down my face. I slump down as silent sobs rake over my body. I hug my legs to my chest, I don’t want him to see me like this. It’s another thing to strip when it’s pitch dark in the room, but here no thank you. Hugging myself, his soft skin rubs against mine as warm water starts to rain down on me while he runs his knuckles over my cheek. “Get out,” I tell him, wiping at my runny nose.
“No.” He grabs me by my arm and hauls me up from the floor, his hands digging into my flesh while I try to cover my breasts. He shakes me. “I heard you screaming, and I thought something had happened. Open your eyes while I’m talking to you.”
“No,” I spit out. “Korean skincare my ass, my eyes sting like hell.” I raise my voice, giving it right back to him.
He chuckles and it’s dark and throaty, doing things to my already confused heart. “What did you use, the black one?”
“I don’t know, fuck,” I curse again, and he laughs but not in a mocking way. More like he’s amused.
“Let me see,” he orders.
“No, I’m naked,” I mutter under my breath.
“I’m naked too, so stop complaining and let me look at your eyes.”
I clasp my mouth shut. Holy shit, when did he lose his clothes? When he stepped into the shower?
“I see you frowning, and to answer your question, because I thought you hurt yourself, I got drenched, and after you kneed me in the junk, I needed to fucking check,” he says, all agitated.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize. I’m not going to tell the guy I’ve been studying taekwondo for a couple of months. Some things you need you keep to yourself; you never know when you have to draw that card.
His dark laugh fills the shower. “Now say it like you mean it.” I flip him off and I can hear his intake of breath over the spray. The man is not wearing any clothes, and I’m naked in the shower with him, and he busted through the door to save me. A shiver runs through my body as he rubs with what feels like a cloth at my eyes.
“You okay?” he mumbles, softly wiping under my eyes.
“No,” I whisper like a sullen kid. “I’m not okay.” Maybe we were going to get naked sooner or later, but this is way too soon.
“Open your eyes,” he orders.
I slowly open them and tears flood my gaze. He peers into my eyes and wipes until they don’t sting anymore. He looks cute the way he holds his head a little back and stares down his nose to check my, probably, bloodshot eyes, like a grandpa trying to figure out his phone.
“Better?” he asks, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard, his eyes not meeting mine.
I nod, and without thinking, I glance down, embarrassed I acted like an idiot. When my eyes zero in on his package, I gasp. I’m suddenly a little unsteady on my feet and scared. The man is packing some heat. I stifle a laugh and his eyes flash with anger.
He clears his throat and my eyes lock on his. His lopsided grin I saw a glimpse of at the poker table when he won me marks his face. Like he wants to punish me for laughing at him. He probably thinks I’m laughing at his size, when in fact it scares me shitless.
“You can go now,” I blurt out. And I want to add ‘and don’t come near me with that’.
