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Lake stares at me, tipping his head quizzically before his eyes pinch in the corner and he shakes his head.
“Not the fucking cheesecake. The book.”
My mouth drops open as I stare in confusion.
“Why?”
“Don't play stupid right now. Just tell me where the book is.”
He's confusing me with his tone as he slowly walks forward, unbuttoning the sleeves of his crisp white shirt. He rolls up the sleeves, unveiling the corded muscles of his tanned forearms as he does it. If I wasn't naked in this bath already feeling vulnerable, it might be hot. But at the moment, I feel like he's the professional doctor who's about to give me the Pap smear I accidentally orgasm through.
He's too calm. Entirely too calm and serious. Not flirty. Not even smirking or smiling. Just looking at me with his hard eyes as he prowls forward, rolling those sleeves before unbuttoning the top of his shirt only by a few buttons.
I swallow as my arms tighten across my chest, my thighs squeezing together beneath the water.
“I threw it,” I finally admit.
“Where?”
I nod my head behind me. “Back there somewhere.”
“Why did you throw it?” he asks calmly as he approaches.
He tucks his hands back into the pockets of his slacks and continues stalking around the tub, staring down into the water as he does.
“I don't know.”
He pauses in place at my answer, tipping his head to the side. His eyes trail the length of me beneath the bubbles, and I swear he can see through them.
“You don't know,” he mutters to himself.
He peers towards where I told him I threw the smut before looking back at me. My heart is racing in my chest. I'm nervous for some reason. Anxious. Out of place. Something strange is going on in his head and I can't figure it out. Is he mad? Upset from earlier and now this exhibition pushed him over the edge? I can't gauge him, and the longer I sit here in this water, the more I realize I don't really know him as well as I thought.
“Get out of the tub, Dylan,” he says harshly.
My body trembles at the demand. I feel like a child being scolded by a parent. My eyes look for a towel I never grabbed.
“I don't have a—”
“Stand up,” he interrupts.
I try my best to read through the tone of his voice, the direct eye contact, the way he's unknowingly tightening his hand into a fist next to his thigh. My heart rate increases as my chest heaves in nervousness. He waits for me to move.
I let out a nervous breath, looking down at the bubbles, then shake my head once. I have no need to be ashamed. If he wants to make me uncomfortable in his home, then I'll make sure he's just as uncomfortable, if not more.
Standing from the water, I let the warm bubbles slowly slide down my wet skin. I straighten before him, naked, with my head held high. My eyes narrow and my brow cocks in a silent fight for dominance.
He shamelessly eyes my bare body as I summon all the strength from female warriors everywhere.Sacred goddesses, send me your strength. I beg you.
His gaze pauses at my breasts before dangerous icy blues beneath hooded lashes meet mine. The slightest twitch of his jaw tells me all I need to know.
Pointing to the door, he says one word. One word that makes my insides clench, the tightening in my lower abdomen forcing my thighs to press together.
“Bedroom.”
49
Dylan
