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I booked us the only available room and dragged her with me.
The room was as old as the rest of the building. Wooden floorboards creaked under my feet, and the light blue wallpapers were stained and coming loose at the top, where they met an old, cracked ceiling.
Kaylie scanned the room, wrinkling her nose. “Nice,” she sneered. “This is your idea of a hotel visit.”
I gave her a dark look. After doing a brief check around, making sure everything was safe, andlocked, I stopped in front of her again.
“It’s fine,” I muttered, feeling her disapproval burn into me. She may be a spoiled brat, used to luxury and high-quality service, but this was bad, even for a fucking beggar. The weak excuse of a lock couldn’t keep anyone out, but it would at least make enough noise to wake me in case anyone attempted to break through. And with that thought in mind, I took a few steps closer to my anticipated sleep. My gaze swept over the furniture. The small space held nothing but a queen-sized bed, a small brown table, and an old chair.
Kaylie came to stand next to me, eyeing the bed with an aghast look on her face. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Take the fucking bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.” Grabbing one of the pillows, I punched a fist into it a few times to smooth out the lumps, then threw it on the old carpet and shrugged.
She stared at me, then at the pillow. She went to sit on the bed, running a hand on the surface, and grimaced. “I’m not that tired anyway.” She stood, gesturing toward the bed. “Get some sleep.”
I raised an eyebrow at her but had no energy to be the gentleman and collapsed onto the mattress. The moment I closed my eyes, I was asleep.
Marc slept while I read a book on my phone. Hours later, weariness made my eyelids heavy, and my consciousness floated somewhere between the characters in the story and reality. Throwing the bed a look, I picked up the old pillow and stood hugging it as I studied him. He looked softer when asleep. Younger. The hard features on his face were relaxed, smoothed into peaceful perfection. His lips were slightly parted with soft puffs of breath.
I shifted closer to the bed, carefully sitting on the edge and pulling my legs up. The mattress creaked from the pressure. I cringed, darting my eyes over to Marc in fear of waking him up. His eyes were still closed. I relaxed, sliding my gaze over the length of his body, stopping at the pocket I knew he put the car keys into.
Could I sneak them out, get away from him, and drive back home? The taking the keys part I could probably pull off, given the fact the man was half dead from exhaustion. But the driving? I knew everything in theory, but with my guarded life at the estate, I never got the chance to try it. One more thing my father did to control me. One more thing to keep me locked up like a little girl. Maybe Marc was right? Maybe I was nothing more than a princess in a tower. And I’d never be either…
Reality slammed back instantly, making me sag in defeat. If this was all life was like, was it such a tragedy if it ended?
Dejected, I lay down on the far corner of the bed, careful not to touch Marc. I’d wake up before he did. He’d never have to know I slept so close to him.
I woke to something heavy draped across my stomach. Blinking at the sharp rays of sun filtering through the holes in the blinds, I tried to make sense of my surroundings. It wasn’t until I rolled my head to the side and caught sight of the sleeping man next to me that everything came back.
He’d rolled over to his side and lay close enough for one of his arms to rest on my belly. Panic flooded through me, but instead of getting up, I lay paralyzed under his weight.
What was the time? I had to take my medicine. My heart hammered in my chest, increasing the panic further. I felt it. Beating. My pulse in my temples. A fast rush of blood through my veins, creating a whooshing sound behind my ears. My body was warm, energy coursing through me in tingling waves. His proximity did nothing to calm me. I burned under the pressure of his warmth. It seared through the thin material of the top, making my skin tingle, and heat pool into a warm puddle in my lower abdomen.
Shit. I had to get away.
“M—Marc,” I stammered, reaching out to poke him. The moment my fingers landed on his skin, a bolt of what felt like electricity zapped through my body. I never touched him before, but did I imagine how it would feel? Sure, I did. And my imagination didn’t measure up. My hand trembled as I flattened my palm against his arm. It was as firm and strong as it looked. Taught with muscles and tight, smooth skin. I slid the hand over him, and those muscles quivered under my touch.
A growl rumbled his chest, and instead of moving away, he shifted closer, pulling the arm tighter around me. My breath caught in my throat, and I shoved at him in pure desperation. He stirred awake, pushing away from me. “Fuck.”
A small smile tugged at my lips as I watched him sit. His back was toward me, and the thin white shirt stretched over broad shoulders and arms. Resisting the urge to reach out, to lay a hand on his back and tell him to go back to sleep, I clasped my hands on my belly. I wanted to tell him I didn’t mind. I really didn’t mind at all.
Snapping out of it, I scrambled to my feet, surprised at the lack of dizziness and the absence of the lethargy that was my normal.
Snatching up my purse, I darted to the bathroom. I’d been so distracted I forgot my pills. Did I take them last night? Racking my brain, I tried to remember being out of the car but came up empty. My father’s words echoed in my mind, reminding me of my fragile health and the importance of my medicine. How could I have forgotten?
My hand trembled as I emptied the pills into my palm and swallowed them down with water from the tap. Straightening, I looked into the mirror and wondered what Marc saw when he looked at me. Did he see a kid? Did he even look at all? Was I pretty enough to catch his interest? Did the blue eyes so similar to my father’s draw him in? Or did he not care, just like every other man visiting us? Was there nothing special about me to look at? I didn’t have that sultry, sexy look like the women I admired. I wasn’t confident as they were. I tried to smile, but it felt fake and forced. I dropped the smile, staring at the scratchy reflection in the old mirror. That was me. The sour mood. The indifference on my blank face.
Tearing my gaze away, I shot the shower a longing look and contemplated jumping straight in. But my bag was in the car.
Hesitating, I pushed the door open and called out. “Can you fetch me my bag? I need a shower and a change of clothes.”
He muttered something I couldn’t hear, but not long after, the door clicked shut. He came back within a few minutes. Dumping the pink duffel bag on the floor outside of the bathroom door, he gestured toward the room inside. “Make it quick. And save some of the hot water.”
I nodded, pulled the bag inside, and closed the door.
When I came out of the shower, my mood improved with the fresh feeling and the scent of flowery shampoo still lingering in my hair. I wore faded jean shorts this time and a black tank top with white polka dots. My hair was pulled into a high ponytail and still wet from the shower. Lifting the bag, I stepped out into the room, catching Marc staring at me from his position on the bed.
I stopped dead, squirming under his gaze, and managed a breathy, “Your turn,” while my mind fed me inappropriate images of his body, naked in the shower.
