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I surge forward, hands outstretched, and shove him hard in the chest. He stumbles backward and I push him again, then I slam the bathroom door in his face with a yell.
Silence. He leaves me to my own distress.
He speaks such a painful truth; the Irish are crumbling, my father is slipping, and I cannot trust any of them. Killian is the last person in my corner, but even that rests on the knife edge of a marriage that is no longer necessary.
The light, cleanliness of the bathroom ignites a tinge of disgust that itches over my skin as I try to calm my misplaced thoughts. Glancing towards the mirror, I catch sight of my wild hair, skin smudged with mascara streaks like talons down my cheeks. I rake my gaze over myself and grimace. Grime clings to my clothing along with a dusting of dirt, and the bruising on my skin starkly stands out. The sudden urge to be free bubbles through me, and then I’m tearing at my clothes, fuelled by an overwhelmingneedto escape.
I have to get these off! They touched these, they’re stained–
I tear at my t-shirt, pulling it over my head, not caring when it snags on my hair, then yank furiously at my bra. The elastic snaps hot against my skin then I scramble out of my trousers so fast I have to catch the sink to stop myself from falling.
The spray of the shower hits me like a slap, I hadn’t expected such a strong water pressure, but upon turning my back to face the spray, it slowly starts to beat the tension out of my shoulders. The water is hot, slightly scalding as it runs down my body, but I revel in the sensation and tip my head forward so the water can run uninterrupted through my thick black hair.
It’sheavenlyafter the events of the past few days.
I stare down at my pink-painted toes and watch as the water swirls dirty and gray around my feet before being sucked away down the drain and out of sight.
If only every other problem could be treated in the same way.
The shower continues to pour its effort into my body, each droplet like a mini-massage beating away the tenseness and rigidity that’s gathered in my muscles. I close my eyes and breathe deeply. For a moment, it almost feels like I’m back home, washing up after an intense night out with my girls, and everything else was just a very bad dream.
Who am I kidding? My shower isn’tthisgood.
It’s almost as comforting as Killian’s own hand.
Ahh, Killian. I reach for the bottle of shower gel that rests next to a lone bottle of shampoo.
I scrub hard at my skin as if it can reach deep and erase the secrets I’m keeping. My father’s lies, the bad deals, and even lying to my friends about the true nature of my life; I want to be rid ofallof it. Yet, the harder I scrub, the larger the mountain of lather that stings my skin and covers up the bruises now painted over my body.
As if the guilt oflyingwasn’t heavy enough, the Russians tried to kill my father, they attacked me at my school, and then this kidnapping; I’m like a pawn being shunted back and forth with no access to the rules of the game! Everyone is playing except me.
And Killian, he’s only playing to pull me out of these damn situations. I pause for a moment, my hand hovering in the air before I grab the shampoo. I pour a large splodge into my hand and begin lathering my hair, letting the water wash the soap from my body.
Is he though? He’s arrogant and rude and disgustingly obvious in the way he leers at me. And yet…he’s been there through it all.
Like a port in the storm.
I hate him, though,I decide furiously as I scrape my fingers through my hair, pressing against my skull.Maybe hate is too strong a word,I muse to myself. Sure, he’s mean and grumpy and acts like he knows everything, and he looks at me like he can peel apart all my layers and see right beneath my skin to all my hidden areas.And he’s Italian.
But you like it, another voice sparks up cockily, and I groan. Sure, I might stomp my feet and cross my arms and claim his arrogant attention is awful, but when I weigh it up against everything else that’s happened, maybe I like it? No one’s made me feel as wanted as he has. He’s given me so manyorgasmsI might be addicted to that sensation. He was right about his guards, and he’s been there for me every time I’ve needed him, no matter how hard I’ve pushed him. Even when I went behind his back and contacted Blair, he was still there for me despite being angry.Andhe came looking for me at the school.
I close my eyes and take myself back to the moment he scooped me out of that chair and held me close. I can still almost smell him under the minty scent of the shampoo. He’s such a large, imposing figure, yet in those moments, it was as if the world could cave in around us, and it wouldn’t matter because I would be safe in his arms.
An alarming twist of warmth shoots through my chest and spirals south to nestle between my legs. My heart stutters and my stomach twists as I relent to the fact that I’ve been treating this all wrong. I open my eyes. Being so attracted to someone so pig-headed just confuses things further.
But if I’m being totally honest with myself, he’s right. I’m running out of people to rely on, and he’s not my enemy. Not now.
Thinking of him calms me, even now, when the overwhelming urge to scrub every cell from my body itches over my skin. Not that it would matter, the soap isn’t reaching deep enough.
I turn off the shower and step out, flinching slightly as warmth radiates up from the pink-tiled floor.Heated floors?The luxury in this place really is subtle. Did he turn that on for me, or is it attached to the shower?
I wipe away the stream from the mirror, an exhausted sigh working its way out of my chest. Killian confuses me. My heart skipping a beat every time he looks at me confuses me.
Everything confuses me, and nothing matters!
I scold myself in the mirror though I’m relieved I look a little more alive now. I grab one of the fluffy white towels from the wall, wrap it tightly around my body and squeeze out the excess water from my hair over the sink. Is Killian on the other side of the bathroom door, waiting for me with some snarky remark about what I said to him? Or has he left me to it?
Facing him doesn’t bring the usual flutter of apprehension in my gut.
