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“You’ve been out for twelve hours straight.”
Okay. That wasn’t long enough to get to Europe, was it? Not to mention the time it must have taken to get her unloaded and to this place. The lemony sunlight through the kitchen window and the warmth in the basement told her they weren’t in Canada, so he had to have flown south. South America? Central America?
Another tiny flare of hope—Callie had taken Spanish through high school and college. If they were south of the border, she could at least communicate with the locals, assuming she could get the hell out of this house.
One step at a time, she reminded herself.
Damon opened the shower door and turned on the water, which came out from all directions, like a carwash. To her relief, he unclipped the leash and removed the collar and cuffs. “Get in,” he directed. “Wash your hair and body. There’s shaving cream and a fresh razor on the shelf there. I want you to shave under your arms, your legs and that nasty pubic hair covering your cunt. I’ll be standing right here the whole time, so don’t try anything stupid.”
At least he wasn’t getting in with her. She felt a tiny bit safer with the glass door closed between them. She rubbed the luxurious soap over her body, washing herself clean. Then she lathered her hair, washing it twice. She was aware of him just outside the shower, his eyes fixed on her, his hand in his shorts.
Angling away, she reached for the razor and shaving cream. Figured the jerk wanted her to shave her pubes. He was probably terrified of a real woman and needed to pretend she was a little girl.
Doesn’t matter, she told herself. Do whatever he wants. Let him think he’s got you under control. Lull him until he lowers his guard. Then you make your move.
When she was done and rinsed, she dared a glance at him. He had pulled off his shirt, and she could see the outline of his large cock, fully erect and straining against the thin cotton of his shorts. In spite of herself, she was momentarily distracted by the sight of his body—the smooth, tan chest, the corded muscles of his abs, his arms and legs like a statue molded by a Renaissance sculptor.
He opened the shower door, reached in and turned off the water. “Much better,” he pronounced. “Let’s get you dried off.”
She stepped out of the shower onto the large, thick bath rug. She reached for one of the towels folded in a neat stack on the counter.
“No,” he said, placing a hand on her upper arm to stop her. “I’ll do it. Lift your arms over your head and spread your legs, shoulder-width apart.”
She wanted to refuse, but didn’t dare.
He was surprisingly gentle as he dried her hair and body. The high-quality towel felt nice as it moved over her skin. He crouched in front of her to dry her legs. He ran the towel between her thighs, rubbing it against her newly shaven sex.
It took every ounce of will not to slam her legs together. She imagined lifting her knee in a sharp movement, smashing it into his nose. He would fall back, blood spurting, and she would sprint away. Even as the possibility beckoned, she rejected it. He could easily overpower her. Come to that, he could kill her with his bare hands, much less a gun. No—she had to bide her time before she made her move.
She forced herself to remain still. At least he wasn’t hurting her.
He tossed the towel aside and got to his feet. Hooking his thumbs in the elastic band of his shorts, he dragged them down his legs. His eyes boring into her, he kicked them away.
Unable to stop herself, Callie stared at his groin. His cock was large and fully erect. Dropping her arms to cover her torso, she took an involuntary step back.
“How dare you fall out of position and step away from me?” Damon demanded, his dark blue eyes glittering.
He reached for her, grabbing her by the shoulders and yanking her toward him. Pressing hard, he forced her down onto the bath rug and fell on top of her, his body heavy over hers.
“You want it,” he murmured in a throaty voice, his breath hot on her neck. “You know you do.” He ground his pelvis against hers, his cock like a bar of steel between them.
Holding her down with his body, he forced her thighs apart with his knee. Guiding his erect shaft between her legs, he nudged the thick head against her opening.
Terrified, Callie squirmed helplessly beneath him. She opened her mouth to scream, but all that emerged was a terrified squeak.
“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” he demanded as the tip of his cock penetrated her. “You’re dry as a fucking bone.”
