BOUND TO THE BULLIES

12 | Wet & Vulnerable

Darcy

The bathwater is scalding hot. Just how I like it.

I sink into the massive jacuzzi tub until the bubbles tickle my chin. The steam fills the room, clouding the mirrors and turning the luxurious bathroom into a white, misty cage.

I scrub at my skin with a loofah, scrubbing hard enough to turn my skin pink. I’m trying to wash away the phantom feeling of Ronan’s hand on my thigh. Trying to wash away the humiliation of the gold chain that still rests around my neck.

I refused to take it off. Not because I’m obedient, but because I believe his threat. If I remove it, he hunts me.

I touch the cold metal. It feels heavy against my wet skin, a stark contrast to the heat of the water.

I close my eyes, letting the temperature seep into my bones. My body feels... strange. Heavy. Sensitive. The friction of the water against my n*****s makes them ache. My skin feels too tight for my body.

Relax, I tell myself. You’re safe in here.

Then, I hear it.

Click.

The soft, metallic sound of a handle turning.

My eyes fly open. My gaze snaps to the wooden door on the far wall. The one hidden behind the decorative screen. The one that connects to Damon’s room.

The one without a lock on my side.

I hold my breath, sliding deeper into the water, hiding my body beneath the thick layer of foam.

The door swings open.

Steam billows out into the cooler air of his bedroom. And then, he steps through.

Damon.

He freezes in the doorway, spotting me instantly. He isn't wearing a shirt. He’s wearing low-slung gray sweatpants that hang dangerously loose on his hips. The V-line of his abdominal muscles disappears into the fabric, pointing to...

I squeeze my eyes shut and scream.

"Get out! get out!" I shriek, splashing water over the side. "I’m naked!"

Damon doesn't leave. He doesn't even look embarrassed.

A slow, wicked grin spreads across his face. He steps into my bathroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

"I’ve seen a naked woman before, Darcy. Relax."

"This is my bathroom!"

"Technically," he draws, walking toward the tub with the grace of a jungle cat, "it’s our bathroom. That’s what Jack-and-Jill means, sweetheart."

He stops right at the edge of the tub. He towers over me, his blue eyes raking over the bubbles, trying to see what lies beneath.

I cross my arms over my chest, trying to cover myself. "What do you want, Damon?"

His playful expression vanishes. His gaze lands on the gold chain around my neck, glistening wet against my collarbone. His jaw tightens.

"Ronan moves fast," he mutters darkly. "Possessive bastard."

Damon crouches down. He’s so close now. I can smell him through the steam—gunpowder and mint.

He dips his hand into the water.

I flinch, expecting him to grab me. But he doesn't. He just swirls his large hand through the water, creating currents that lap against my skin.

"It’s too hot," he murmurs, watching the water ripple. "You’re boiling yourself."

"I like the heat," I snap, though my voice trembles.

"Do you?"

Damon’s hand moves underwater. Closer to my body. He isn't touching me, but the pressure of the water he pushes hits my breasts, my stomach, my thighs. It’s a phantom touch. Torture.

"Does this turn you on?" Damon asks suddenly. His voice drops to a rough whisper.

"What?"

"The fear," he says. "When we corner you. When Ronan puts a collar on you. I can smell it, Darcy."

He leans down, his face inches from the water, inches from my face.

"Your scent is changing," he observes, sniffing the air. "It’s getting sweeter. Heavier. Like ripe fruit waiting to be picked."

"Stop it," I whimper.

But my body betrays me. My hips buck involuntarily under the water. A jolt of wet heat pools between my legs, unrelated to the bath.

Damon sees the movement. His eyes darken to a midnight blue.

He pulls his hand out of the water, dripping wet. He reaches out and hooks one finger under the gold chain at my throat.

He pulls. gently, but firmly.

My upper body lifts out of the water. The bubbles slide off my skin. My wet, swollen breasts are exposed to the cool air. To his hungry gaze.

I gasp, trying to cover myself, but he holds me there. Inspecting me.

"Hate us all you want," Damon growls, his eyes burning with lust. "But your body knows what it needs."

He leans in, his lips brushing my wet ear.

"The heat is coming, Darcy. I can feel it radiating off you. Tonight..."

He lets go of the chain. I splash back into the water, trembling violently.

Damon stands up, looking down at me like I am a meal he is saving for later.

"Tonight, you won't be sleeping," he promises. "You’ll be begging us to make it stop."