Chapter Three
He released her, then shut and locked the door. “Don’t worry. Nothing will happen until you beg me for it.”
“And if I never do?”
He chuckled. “Oh, you will.”
She bit down on the inside of her cheek when he pulled off his shirt, showing her his wide chest with an abundance of muscles and tattoos. The tattoos ran up his arms and down one side of his chest. She could tell he worked out because every one of his muscles was starkly defined. It was something she shouldn’t be noticing.
Her gaze flew away from him when he laughed. She jerked her face away and looked over the large room that was actually more than she first thought. Through an opened door, she could see a small room with a sofa and table, but that was it from this angle. To the right was a bathroom and another door she assumed was a closet.
“Come on, let’s get you in the shower,” he said.
Her gaze sprang to him, and she noticed he had all of his clothes off except for his dress pants, but they were unbuttoned.
“I can do it on my own,” she said.
He shook his head. “No.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to see what belongs to me.”
She sucked in a breath and smacked at his hands that reached for her. “I’ll never belong to you.”
“Oh, baby, you already do. Now come here, or I’ll get some guys in here to help you.”
Damn him. Bastard. She gritted her teeth, moved over to him, and tried not to flinch when he lifted his jacket off her shoulders and took her arm. He pulled her into the bathroom and started the shower.
“Undress and get in. You have blood on you,” Alastair said.
One of his eyebrows arched when she hesitated. She pulled the nightgown off and then her panties before she tried to cover herself with her arms and hands.
He stared at her, and she could feel his gaze slide over every inch of her skin that he could see, making her feel shakier and more fearful.
“Fucking beautiful. Just like I knew you would be.” He held his hand out. “Get in. I’ll go get you something to wear.” He cupped her chin. “See, I’m not a total bastard. I could make you go naked.”
Just the thought made her shudder. She stepped under the spray and wet her hair and body before she reached for his shampoo. Her hair would be a bitch to comb out with no conditioner, but there was no alternative. Alastair didn’t need a conditioner because his thick dark hair was cut close to his scalp, just like his short beard and mustache were.
Elizabeth quickly washed her body, ignoring the stream of red water that ran down the drain. When she was done, she grabbed a towel from the other end of the huge shower. After wrapping one around her body, she did one for her hair.
She could see his shadow on the other side of the shower glass and couldn’t bring herself to open the shower door.
“Come on, sweetheart. I don’t have all night, and I’m wiped out.”
She swallowed back her fear and opened the door.
“Here, let me help you with this.”
He froze and skimmed his fingertips over the bruises that Ross had left on her arms.
“I wish I could kill him again for the marks he left on you.”
She stood silently because she didn’t know what to say.
He pulled the towel away from her and dressed her in a large long-sleeved blue shirt, even helping her button it up and rolling the sleeves up.
“I left toothbrush and paste and hair dryer on the counter. We’ll get everything you need tomorrow.”
“Can I have my things at my place?”
He shook his head. “No, I want you to use only the things I give you. Do you have pictures or anything you cherish there?”
She shook her head.
“Fine, I’ll have everything put into storage for now.”
She bit her lip and waited.
After pulling the towel from her head, she combed through it. Her gaze went to the shower when it turned on again, and she instantly snapped her lids shut when he dropped his pants and stood there in his full glory.
He laughed before he stepped in under the water.
Her first move was to look through the drawers for anything she could use as a weapon, but there was nothing.
She then had to hurry to brush her teeth and get the tangles out of her hair. When he came to stand next to her with a towel around his waist, she was blow-drying her hair.
The stark differences in their height looked more pronounced somehow in the mirror, standing next to each other. He had to be a foot taller than her, and his shoulders were twice as wide as her. They both had dark hair, but his was a shade darker. She could tell he took care of his beard and mustache, and she wondered if it felt as soft as it looked.
There was a small patch of hair on his chest with a line of hair that ran down and into his pants.
She watched as he brushed his teeth and smoothed something in his beard and mustache.
“Fuck, I love your eyes on me,” he said, making her gaze fly to his face to see him watching her watch him.
She turned toward the mirror again and concentrated on her hair.
He walked away and came back to lean back against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest as he stared at her. She tried to ignore him, but it was next to impossible.
He laughed. “I think your hair is dry enough, baby. Quit stalling.”