Page 57 of Jordan

She darts her tongue out to run along her lips and brushes a hand through her hair.

“I don’t want you touching me,” she says, rolling her head away from me. Her body stiffens again, noticing the water running red. “Am I—Did you…” She groans, shoving her hands against my chest to get away from me. “Get out,” she says harshly.

I tug her back onto my lap. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I’m fine, just get out.” She scoots her body away from me again, so I let her go. Maybe it isn’t punishment she needs at all. Maybe it’s kindness. Maybe it’s a little control herself. I get to my feet and stare down at her. She keeps her gaze away from me, hugging her body tight. She starts to shiver, so I step under the spray of water to turn up the heat.

“I’m not leaving,” I tell her.

“Whatever.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Jordan

There aren’t many times in my life I remember being embarrassed. I’ve never had a reason to. I’ve never put myself in positions or around people to be embarrassed by. I was home-schooled. Hung out with my father’s friends’ kids now and again, but I never got close with anyone. I’m not sure I know what true embarrassment feels like.

Not until now. Right at this moment.

As I lie in the shower, naked and bleeding heavily from my period, all in front of Enzo.

I don’t need to look or feel to know he took my tampon out. I can tell by the amount of blood running through the water.

God, I am mortified!

I’ve always had heavy periods. I get exhausted, forget to eat, and sometimes pass out. The first time it happened, I was sent to the hospital. Second time too. Every time after that, maybe another two or three, I handled it myself. I made sure to eat enough, even if I didn’t want to, used pads more than tampons, and always let Jeanette know so she could check on me. I’m not thinking clearly now that I’m here, which is how it got so bad.

I want to scream at Enzo, but I don’t have the energy. He’s standing outside the shower doors, staring at me like I’m a helpless little animal caught in the rain, starved and homeless. Staring down at me like he could take away all my pain if only I give in, but I’m not giving into him. Fuck him. Fuck him so damn hard.

“There’s a doctor coming to see you.”

“I don’t need a doctor,” I ground out.

“You were unconscious and bleeding more than you should.”

“What do you know about how much I should be bleeding?”

“Enough,” he answers, running a hand through his dripping wet hair.

His clothes are soaked, sticking to him like a second skin—everywhere. It’s distracting. So distracting I find myself staring at the outline of his dick for far too long. There’s a puddle forming beneath his socked feet, and I realize something. Something that has my stomach hurting in a different way.

Enzo panicked. He jumped into the shower with all his clothes on. The only things he had time to get off were his shoes, jacket, and tie. Enzo didn’t care he would ruin his clothes. Because they’re definitely ruined if the giant blood stain on his pants is any indication—and more of a reason for me to be embarrassed. He panicked because he thought I was dying?

No, he probably didn’t want to wash his money down the drain. After all, he did pay for me. Still, the ache in the pit of my stomach has me wondering if that’s true.

“I don’t need a doctor. I need you to get out.”

He doesn’t answer me. Just stands there and keeps staring at me like I’m going to turn to ash and be swept away with the water.

Does he think I’m a helpless animal? Like I’m a little canary in a cage for him to gawk at when he’s bored?

“Too bad. He’s on his way, and you will let him see you.”

“You can’t make me.”

“How much do you want to bet?” he asks, his tone much darker than before.

There’s no question in my mind. He’ll make me see this doctor. I wouldn’t put it past him to chain me to the damn bed.