Page 31 of House Rules

His eyes narrow. “Dropped what?”

Shit.“A cast iron pan.”

“A cast iron?—”

“It’s fine. These are fine. I’ll wear them.” Turningback to the closet, I rub the soft fabric of one of the black halter top dresses between my fingers.

“Well, go on.”

“What?” I turn back toward him, frowning.

“I picked out the clothes. I think it’s only fair for you to give me a fashion show. At the very least, you need to change out of those grubby clothes and into something more appropriate for tonight’s festivities.”

“Are we going somewhere tonight?”

“Nope,” he says, putting his arms behind his head and leaning back. I can’t help but stare at the way the muscles of his biceps flex and stretch against the sleeve of his black T-shirt. “We’re staying in tonight, but your wardrobe still needs to be changed. I believe the contract said something about matching the general vibe of every event. So chop-chop, sweet cheeks.”

He gives me a bright smile that I’m sure has melted the panties off of almost every single woman in this resort. And probably a few married ones, too. I’m not immune, but letting him know that is not in my best interest.

I turn to the closet, choosing not to argue. I don’t need him fixating on my arm again. “Which one would you like me to wear?”

He stands up and walks over to the closet, caging me in with his body as he reaches around me to work through the dresses. Tension settles into every muscle, and I hold myself still. He’s warm and huge against my back, with some sort of cologne wafting gently over my shoulder and teasing my senses.

He smells good…too good. I take shallow breaths, trying not to let his scent muddy my thinking.

“I think…this one.” He pulls out a shiny dress with a looser halter top and micro mini skirt. A long chain dangles from the back of the halter, just brushing the top of the skirt.

“Fine.” I take the dress from his hand. “I had to walk here. Do you mind if I take a quick shower and just rinse off before sliding into this?”

“You walked here this time of night? From that trailer park where you live?”

I roll my eyes. “It’s not the first time, won’t be the last.”

Maverick leans in, his expression unamused. “It’s the last time, firebird.” He straightens. “Now. Remember you’re only allowed to wear things in this closet. No panties, no bras, no exceptions.”

They want me naked. Visible. Vulnerable.

It's a fucking costume for a game I didn’t design—and yet, somewhere deep in the part of me that's always been overlooked and underestimated, there's a flicker of something hotter than shame.

Let them look. Let them ache.

This is a mind game. I don’t know why they’re doing this, but I do recognize that they’re trying to control me…but then again, I signed away my control. I gave them that right when I signed that contract.

But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let them know my inner thoughts and feelings. I’ll keep those for myself.

“Yeah. I got it.” I give him what I hope is an agreeable smile and move past him into the ensuite bathroom, closing the door behind me. It only takes a moment to strip off my dirty clothes and the acebandage and leave them in a heap on the floor before stepping into the shower.

Oh my God.

The water pressure is pure, unadulterated bliss. Despite my promise to take a ‘quick’ shower, I take my time, turning the water as hot as I can stand it. I’m desperate, suddenly, to wash away not only the day’s sweat, but also the memory of Baldy and Pedo-Stash’s hands on my body.

I hadn’t realized until I was standing beneath the hot stream of water how badly I needed it gone. All of it.

My fingers ghost over the bruises on my ribcage. It’ll take a little more than water for these to disappear, but eventually they’ll fade.

I close my eyes and lift my face to the spray. And I’ll be safe until they do.

Maybe Maverick will get bored of waiting and disappear if I take long enough. I clean myself thoroughly, scrubbing every bruise and tender spot, until I feel new again.