Page 13

The bathroom door feels solid under my palm. Safe. I push it closed with more force than necessary, letting the slam echo through the small space.

Only then, with the barrier between us, do I allow myself to exhale. My breath comes out shaky as I lean against the door, eyes closed.

“Get it together,” I whisper to myself, running trembling fingers through my hair.

The mirror shows a woman I barely recognize—someone whose carefully constructed facade has started to crack. Darkcircles shadow my eyes, and my usually pristine appearance looks decidedly rumpled.

I set my clean clothes on the counter, noting how my hands still shake slightly.

The sound of his boots shifting outside the door makes me jump. Even through the solid wood, his presence feels overwhelming. Inescapable.

I turn the shower on to a hot setting, letting steam fill the small space. Maybe it will help wash away this feeling of vulnerability that's been clinging to me since last night.

But the scalding water does nothing to wash away the memory of his body against mine. I press my forehead to the cool tile, trying to focus on anything else—the sound of water hitting porcelain, the steam curling around me, the citrus scent of the luxury soap.

But my skin remembers. The weight of him. The raw strength in those hands as they pinned my wrists. The heat of his breath against my neck.

I slam my palm against the tile. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. The seduction was meant to be a game—a way to crack his control and gain leverage. I wasn't supposed to actually want him.

My body betrays me with every breath.

“Damn it,” I whisper, turning the water temperature down. The cold shock helps clear my head, but only barely.

I've dealt with attraction before. Handled dangerous men. Played their games and walked away unscathed. But Erik is different. There's something honest in the darkness he carries. No pretense. No manipulation. Just pure, contained violence wrapped in rigid control.

And God help me, but I want to see that control snap again.

My fingers trace the fading marks on my wrists, remembering how easily he overpowered me. The thought should terrify me. Instead, heat pools low in my belly.

This is why I've pulled back. Why I'm keeping my distance now. Because one more touch, one more taste of that dangerous chemistry between us, and I might not be able to stop myself from burning.

I turn off the water with trembling hands. I need to get myself under control. I need to remember why I'm here and what's at stake.

I take my time getting dressed, smoothing the soft fabric of my clean shirt over my skin. My fingers work methodically through my damp hair, weaving it into a neat braid.

The mirror shows my complexion has returned to its usual polish. I straighten my shoulders and check my appearance one final time.

When I open the bathroom door and step outside, Erik blocks my path. Those dark eyes fix on me with an intense focus. I try to step around him, but he mirrors my movement.

“Move, please.” The word comes out sharp, commanding.

He doesn't budge. Instead, he takes a step forward, forcing me back toward the bathroom door.

Erik's hands slam against the door on either side of my head. His chest nearly touches mine with each heavy breath. Gone is the rigid soldier—in his place stands something feral.

“Isn't this what you wanted?” His voice drops to a growl that sends shivers down my spine. “You pushed and pushed, trying to make me snap.” His hips pin me to the door, the heat of him burning through my clothes. “Wanted me to lose control and take what I want.”

His words drip with dark promise, making my breath catch. This is exactly what I'd wanted—and now that I have it, I'm not sure I can handle it.

“I stopped pushing you after that.” My voice comes out breathier than intended. “Or did you not notice?”

Erik's lips curve into a dangerous smile, one that makes my heart stutter. “I noticed. The question is—did you stop because you were scared or because you liked it too much?”

Heat crawls up my cheeks, betraying me. I try to turn my face away, but his hand catches my chin.

“Look at me when I'm talking to you.” His thumb traces my bottom lip. “Your pulse is racing. Is it from fear?” His other hand slides to my throat, feeling the flutter beneath my skin. “No. I don't think it is.”

I swallow hard, trapped between his body and the door. “You're supposed to be guarding me, not?—”