Page 58 of Deviant Knight (Knight's Ridge Empire 4)

It takes me longer than I’d like to get the shower on, but I quickly discover that it was worth it when water erupts from all directions.

Stepping into it, I groan loudly as the jets immediately begin to massage my sore muscles.

Okay, this is heaven.

I close my eyes, tip my head back and just indulge in the unexpected treat.

I don’t hear a thing over the roar of the water, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel the exact moment he pushes the door open and steps inside.

A violent shiver runs down my spine, and damn it if my nipples don’t pebble or my thighs don’t clench.

His mere presence shouldn’t affect me as strongly as it does, especially when I’m practically half-dead from whatever I unknowingly took last night, because that’s the only explanation for how I feel altogether.

This isn’t just vodka.

It makes me wonder what happened to the guy—Ben. If he spiked my drink, I can only assume that he’s already worm food.

After the way he reacted to Theo last night, I wouldn’t have thought he’d have been so desperate to pull a stunt like that, but then again, I have no idea who he really is. He could have been playing me from the moment he walked over, and in my need to punish Theo and forget my reality, I was like putty in his hand.

Jesus.

All of this was my fault.

I knew going last night was a bad idea. I should have just stayed home and continued my pity party for one.

When he doesn’t move or say anything for the longest fucking time, my curiosity gets the better of me and I lower my head and drag my eyes open.

He’s standing right in the doorway with his hands deep in his trouser pockets, his shirt still open and a hard, tortured expression on his face.

His eyelids are heavy as he watches me. His jaw tics, and there’s a muscle in his temple that pulsates.

He’s holding himself back, that much is obvious.

I guess it’s just what from, that’s the question. Fucking me or killing me.

Call me fucking twisted, but I really want to know which way he’s leaning.

One side of my lip curls into a smirk.

“Either join me or fuck off. The staring is just creepy.”

My voice is flat, completely belying how I’m really feeling at issuing him that kind of ultimatum.

I know he’s going to choose the latter, and I’m also aware that it makes me a self-punishing masochist. But I can’t help myself. And who knows, maybe seeing him walk away from me after such a blatant offer will help sever whatever this fucked-up shit is between us.

He hesitates, the line between his brows deepening before his eyes take another leisurely stroll around my body.

My skin prickles as if he’s actually touching me, and my clit aches for some attention.

But just as I think he might take me up on the offer, or I might up the stakes by making a start on myself, he spins on his heels and marches from the room.

Disappointment floods me and I fall back against the cold, marble-covered wall behind me as all the air rushes from my lungs.

I knew it was going to happen. It really shouldn’t hurt quite so bad.

Lifting my hands to my hair, I run my fingers through the sopping lengths and look around for some shampoo.

Just like the rest of the room, there’s nothing on display.