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Kincaid fists my hair, stares at me with empty eyes, and dunks my head into the bath.

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

FRANCESCA

Water fillsmy ears until I’m half-deaf. The sting of soap forces my eyes closed, leaving me blind.

I struggle. Arms flailing. Heels kicking backwards. Even when I make contact, they’re glancing blows with no force behind them.

Time slows as my lungs strain for air. I grip the porcelain edge and shove back with all my might, unable to move an inch.

Kincaid is too big. Too strong.

The ache in my chest increases until it’s a burn of need. The muscles pull, harder and harder, desperate to extract another sip of oxygen from my lungs. My body sags, brain too scrambled to figure out how to fight.

Then he wrenches me from the water.

I haul in a breath and choke as I inhale droplets along with the air. I cough it out, spluttering as I draw in another. And another. All while his fingers clamp me in their steely grip.

The joy of breathing fades as he growls, “Now, do you consent to a good fuck, or do you still want to call the police?”

“Get off me, you psycho!”

I slap him away and he clicks his tongue against his teeth. “That’s not very encouraging, is it?”

He plunges me underwater again. My palms beat uselessly against the side of the tub.

The plug.

I need to pull the plug.

I thrust my hands towards the head of the tub and Kincaid sweeps my knees out from under me, dunking me further. Shoving me deep enough, my forehead brushes the porcelain base.

He yanks me out again.

“What about now?”

I can’t support my weight. Nothing but a loose-limbed toy for this monster to play with.

“Stop.”

My throat burns. My lungs burn. Cotton wool stuffs my head.

Adrenaline floods my bloodstream until the room throbs in and out of focus, and I beg, “Please, stop.”

He answers with a low chuckle. “Still doesn’t sound like an enthusiastic yes. Let’s try once more. Really see if you’re feeling it.”

Water swallows me for the third time.

My limbs are heavy, muscles weak. A ringing noise pierces my right ear, the only sound not muffled by water. Kincaid is going to kill me in my own bathroom because I’m too stupid to escape and too stubborn to give in.

The need to inhale grows more insistent, smacking aside my common sense until I’m nothing more than a gasping amoeba. Darkness presses in from all sides until he drags me from the water and lets go.

I sprawl on the floor, unable to control my limbs. It takes all my remaining energy just to inhale.

Arms close around me and Kincaid clutches me to his chest, sitting with his back against the wall, lightly slapping my cheeks until my feet push against the floor in a feeble attempt to get away.

“Come on, breathe.” His large palm cradles my head against his chest. “You have to breathe, or you can’t give me the right answer.”