He led her back to the bed. Ryan had pulled the sheets back, smoothing them out, and the damp spot where Zoe had lain was covered by a fresh towel he'd found somewhere. He gestured at the bed. "Lie down. On your stomach."
She climbed onto the bed and lay facedown, her cheek against the towel. The rope around her thighs pressed into the soft skin of her inner legs, the fibers dark and damp. She stretched her arms above her head, her wrists raw against the pillow, and let her body settle into the mattress.
Ryan knelt beside her. He uncapped a bottle from the nightstand something small and white, the label worn off and squeezed a blob of lotion into his palm. The scent hit her before his hands did: aloe, fake and chemical, the kind of lotion that promised to soothe burns and left a greasy
