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Which means…
I’ve been sleeping in Demyen’sbed.
I focus my shaking hands on grabbing a sea sponge so I can at least scrub while I sink into these shower thoughts. The moment his scent rubs against my body, however…
It’s one thing to smell the rich spice on his skin. It’s something else entirely to be wrapped up in it, surrounded by it, covered byhim.
None of this makes sense. This whole place is huge. There have to be at least a dozen guest rooms and just as many baths, showers, whatever—so why am I in his? Why did he have me sleep through my fever inhisbed?
And then something occurs to me.
When I woke up today, there was no weighted blanket on the bed. Or the floor.
Did he…?
No.No way. There’s no way.
Despite taking me away from a life that was killing me, despite nursing me through an illness and making sure Willow is safe and comfortable… I know that he’s still probably going to kill me himself. He blames me for his brother’s life sentence, and in a way, it’s a life for a life.
Which is why I have to plan our escape.
Something that does hamper the plan is the one guard’s voice echoing in my mind: the desert is a large, lonely, and deadly place. Even though we’re probably only twenty minutes by car from the city, that’s a lot longer of a walk for an adult, let alone a small child, when nature is actively trying to steal every drop of moisture from your body. I’m going to need to figure that part out before I make the actual attempt.
Until then, I might as well enjoy what I can. Demyen’s razor, for example. I’m in desperate need of a shave and he’s been so kind as to lend me his bathroom, so, y’know—when in Rome…
One shower and dolphin-smooth shave later, I’m sitting on the marble vanity slathering lotion onto my arms and legs. It’s more of his scent, which makes it all the better. He doesn’t need toknow I’m taking my time to massage it into every inch I can reach.
He doesn’t need to know I’m imagining his hands doing this for me.
I’m about to leave the bathroom when I figure I might as well brush my teeth, too. And oh, opportunity of opportunities, there’s only one toothbrush in here.
My teeth are squeaky clean when I finally wrap the biggest, fluffiest towel I can find around me and tuck the ends in. I figure it’s best to let my hair air dry, especially with how hot it is this time of year, so I make sure I’m not dripping everywhere before I saunter back through that archway intohisbedroom.
I’m clean. I’m refreshed. I’m ready to take on whatever he throws at me.
Except I’m not ready for the sight of him, shirtless and sitting on the bed, with a platter of fruit and veggies next to him.
Demyen looks up from his phone. The way his face shifts hints that maybe he wasn’t expecting me to walk in looking like this, either. His eyes roam from head to toe and never once leave my body as he tucks his phone back into his pocket.
I’ve stopped. I don’t know what he wants or what he wants me to do. And I can’t afford to fuck anything up.
“Come here.”
The order is clear, but there’s a slight gravelly sound in his voice. He leans back on his arms as I slowly walk over to him, and yes, maybe I do add a little bit of sway to my hips.
Might as well work it up to get on his good side.
I swear that’s a growl of appreciation I hear in his throat. It’s low and Demyen acts like I’m not affecting him in any way. But I hear it.
And then his hands are on my waist, pulling me onto his lap.
“Ready to be my good girl?”
Every time he says those words, something shoots straight from my head to my core. I can’t explain it, and I don’t think I want to dig into the why. All I know is, his voice, his words, make me nod my head and rest my hands on his shoulders for balance. He’s made me straddle him, and I’m pretty sure one wrong move will have this towel dropping to the floor.
I’m also pretty sure he won’t mind that at all.
Demyen stares at my neck. Breathes me in. I know he smells it—and his one arm around my waist tightens just a little more. His other arm reaches for the platter, picks up a piece of fruit, and lifts it to my mouth.
