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Though I don’t feel particularly hungry, I know I need to eat to keep my strength up. Lifting the metal lid covering the food, I’m happy to find a sandwich, a bottle of water, and an apple. I don’t think I could stomach anything too rich or fancy. Not that this place looks like it does rich and fancy.
I bite into the soft bread and moan in appreciation at the taste of juicy roast beef and sharp cheese. My appetite kicks in after the first bite, and the sandwich is gone before I know it. I pick up the ice pack and gently place it on my swollen cheek as I crunch on the fresh, crisp green apple. Once I’ve finished the apple, I set the core on the tray and the ice pack on the small side table before grabbing the bottle of water. I check the seal, then scan the bottle for anything resembling a needle prick. When I don’t find anything, I twist the cap and drink the whole bottle in just a few gulps.
Thanks to my being unconscious, I haven’t had anything to drink, which isn’t going to help my throbbing head. At least I didn’t pee the bed. And as soon as I think about peeing, I have to go. I hurry to the bathroom as fast as my injuries will allow, yank my shorts down, and pee for what feels like forever.
Since I’m already in here and feeling gross, I strip, grab the toiletries from the duffle bag, and finally take a shower. The water pressure is awful, but the water is hot, and that helps ease some of the aches. I carefully wash the dried blood from my hair, then clean the rest of my body. Once the water runs cold, I climb out and wrap a large towel around myself before grabbing the smaller hand towel to pat my hair dry.
Loath to put my dirty clothes back on, I decide to stay in the towel. I use some of the shower gel to wash out my underwear before draping it over the shower head to dry. As I’m about to walk back into the bedroom, I remember the silky nightdress. Unfortunately, there is no underwear in the bag, but at least I have something to sleep in other than a towel. I dig in the bag for it, then drop the towel before slipping the silky material over my body. Once it’s on, I adjust it until my boobs are covered, and it skims the middle of my thigh.
I glance up at the mirror and huff. “Well, at least it matches my bruises. God, I’m a mess.”
Opening the door to the bedroom, I freeze when I see a garment bag laying across the top of the dresser that wasn’t there before. I look toward the door to the room, not liking that someone was in here while I was in the shower, not one little bit. With that thought in mind, I shove the dresser until it butts up against the door. My poor injured body protests, but I’ll never be able to rest if I think someone can so easily get to me. I lean against the dresser once I’m done and breathe through the pain, feeling old beyond my years.
When I can breathe againwithout breaking into a cold sweat, I stumble back over to the bed, exhausted. The mystery bag will have to wait for now.
With my body feeling like it’s been hit by a car; everything is taking far more effort than it normally would. Out in the real world, I’m always on the go, never stopping until I crash, then waking up and starting all over again. If I’m in pain I push through it, but here, there is nothing for me to do or to distract me from my injuries.
I’m not sure what Maxim has planned for me or if he’s setting me up. One thing is for sure, I need some sleep to make it through what’s to come. I pull the covers back, shut down any thoughts my brain tries to conjure up about who else might have shared this bed, and climb in. I tug the covers tightly around me and drift off almost instantly.
* * *
The soundof wood splintering and the screech of furniture moving across a wooden floor have my eyes snapping open as I reach for my gun, which, of course, isn’t there. Looking around, I find a livid-looking Maxim storming toward me. I shake my head to clear it, sleep still clouding my thoughts enough that I can’t process what the hell is happening right now.
“You didn’t answer,” he snarls, dragging me from the bed.
It’s only my sharp gasp of pain from my protesting muscles that has him freezing in place.
“Shit. Fuck,” he curses as he steadies me, his grip loosening slightly.
“What the hell is going on?” I snap, ripping my arm free from his hold so I can support my ribs.
“I knocked. I shouted. You did not answer,” he growls, his anger dying out as his intense eyes move over my face.
“I was asleep, you moron,” I growl back, momentarily forgetting who I’m talking to but honestly not caring.
He reaches for me, a sly grin playing on his lips. He trails a finger up my arm, taking the strap of my nightgown that must have slipped down and moving it back into place. My skin breaks out in goosebumps at his touch, and I feel my nipples harden. I fold my arms over my chest to hide them.
“You’re quite possibly the most fearless person I’ve ever met. I would kill anyone else who spoke to me the way you do.”
“You’re not the first person to say that to me, but it turns out I’m hard to kill.” I turn away, hating the way my body reacts to him.
He lifts his hand and turns my face to look at him before dipping his head and whispering against the shell of my ear. “I don’t want to kill you, Sugar. I want to fuck you.”
“It’s too bad we don’t always get what we want.” I move to step back, but his hand snaps out and grips my hip.
“You see, that’s the thing. I always get what I want. How do you think I made it this far?”
“Honestly, mostly murder and mayhem.” I manage to get out, proud as fuck that my voice sounds cool and unaffected.
He grins, dazing me for a second before he skims his nose across my cheek. “Such hostility wrapped in a sexy little package. Tell me, Sugar, are you going to fight me this hard in bed, or is this just your idea of foreplay?”
I poke him in the chest with my finger. “I. Am. Married. I realize it means nothing to you, but it means something to me.”
“We’ll see,” he replies cryptically.
“Have you taken your medication today because you’re crazy?”
“Oh, Sugar, you haven’t seen what crazy looks like yet,” he whispers before pulling back, his eyes moving down the length of my body. He groans. Shaking his head, he backs up farther. “If you don’t want me to bend you over this chest of drawers and fuck you so hard you forget about your husband, then I suggest you get dressed.”
