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He backtracks to one of the wooden doors we passed. The bathroom is about the same size as the guest bathroom we used at my mother’s, but there’s a soaking tub and a corner shower. A little bit of luxury in the mountains.
“A bath might be better.” He sets me on the edge of the tub and starts the water.
The intimacy of the act hits too close to what we did before I was taken by Roman. “I can do the rest.”
He puts the plug in and sits back on his heels. He lifts my ankle with rough hands. He palpates the tissue, lightly pressing in specific areas. I bite back my grimace. I could’ve been hurt so much worse.
“I’m sure you’ve been around guys with worse injuries.”
“Yeah, but we have better gear, too, and we expect the risk.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “I did not have risk in mind when I married Roman. Life insurance. Can you believe it? I’m a stereotype.” Tears gather in my eyes, but I blink them back. “I’m a lot of stereotypes.”
“None of this is your fault.”
Except it is, and his gentle tone can’t convince me otherwise. Other people have been dragged into my drama. So much for being Miss Independent.
He pours a bubble bath with a light eucalyptus scent into the filling tub. “I have Epsom salt around here somewhere.”
“It’s fine. I just need to get the grit off so I don’t get your place dirty.”
“London and Holland packed a couple bags for you.”
“I hate dragging them into this,” I say, apparently able to talk to him as openly as I did before. “Is it wrong I’d rather not tell them?”
The rush of water is the only sound as he inspects me. He finally breaks the silence. “Why don’t you want them to know?”
“Do Jacobi and Kase know everything about you?” When he shakes his head, I ask, “And why not?”
“You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
What humiliates him about his past? “It’s not shame.” I have to pause and think why. “No, it is. It’s humiliating, what a poor decision I made. How I got used. But it’s also that I feel normal around them. We’re kids from rich families who didn’t feel like we belonged with the ‘it’ crowd. We get together, and it’s like no time has passed and I didn’t get married too young. I’m not worried about money. I don’t have to explain why I’m unhappy. I can just be me. Whoever that is.”
“You’d be surprised how much alike we are.” He stands so gracefully that I wouldn’t believe he broke into Roman’s place and basically carried me out, then drove for hours, and carried me upstairs.
His hair’s brushed off his face. His harsh angles and planes are so hauntingly beautiful that I have to drop my gaze. If he was one of my students, I’d compliment him on his pose. Straight back, toes pointed out, slight bend in the knees.
He shifts his stance, and I drag my gaze up his hard body. “I’ll go get the bags and find something for you to eat with your painkiller.”
I didn’t think he’d stay for the bath, but I wasn’t going to think about it until I had to. Now that he’s leaving, I can’t deny the disappointment curling through my belly. “Why did you have sex with me?”
Yeah. That came out of nowhere. But underneath the trauma of the last couple of days was that question. It lingered.
The muscles in his jaw flex, and the self-recrimination in his eyes is like a knife stabbing me in the gut.
I drop my gaze again. “Never mind. I know it was a mistake.”
“Yes. It was.” He spins with skill that I can’t help but appreciate as a dance teacher and is out the door.
I’m alone in the bathroom with nothing but the hurt from his ready agreement. He’s left the door partially open, as if he knew being shut into a room would bother me.
I was kept for two days. How do people who are imprisoned for months or years survive a closed door?
I shudder. I got lucky because of Cannon, the guy who just told me I was a mistake.
