Page 4

Chapter 4

Daff

I placed my shampoo, conditioner and soap on the shower ledge, dumped my clean clothes on top of the closed toilet lid, and pulled the privacy curtain along its track, my mind scrambling for a topic.

“Do you have any questions for me?”

Sure, he might ask me something I wasn’t completely comfortable answering, but who was he going to tell my answers to?

I’d have a million questions if I were him.

I hadn’t been told to avoid any particular topics, but that part of our brief might’ve been covered after they’d returned to conference room two.

“Tell me everything.”

My shirt coming off over my head muffled my chuckle.

“That’s a pretty broad topic.”

“Everything about you.”

“Right,” I mumbled, flipping the water to hot before ditching my jeans and underwear.

“We can talk about literally anything. Compared to that, I’m a boring choice.”

“Not to me.”

I stepped under the spray, a groan escaping me as the hot water hit the tight muscles in my neck and shoulders.

“Daff?”

“Sorry! The hot water distracted me. Ummm. I have two brothers, both older. My dad raised us. He was seriously injured when I was little, and couldn’t work. Mum took off about a year later. Said she couldn’t carry the family anymore.”

His growl cut over the sound of the spraying water.

“Your mother left you?”

I shrugged, forgetting he couldn’t see me.

“It happens. And it was better than her staying and resenting us. That would’ve made all our lives miserable.”

His growl grew more intense.

“It was her duty to stay and care for you. For all of you.”

“While it would’ve been nice, not everyone can handle that level of responsibility.”

“I would’ve stayed.”

I paused, something in his voice making my heart thud with the truth of it.

“I know.” I cleared my throat as I worked up a lather in my hair.

“Steven’s the oldest. He has an off again, on again partner and two kids. He helps with Dad’s medical bills when he can, but most of his time and money goes to them, which it should.

“Will’s next.

He means well, but he lets his temper get the best of him, which means he loses more jobs than he keeps.

“Then there’s me. I hustled my butt at school, thinking if I got a degree, I could get us out of debt faster, but education costs money and even if I’d scored a full ride, classes and study meant I wouldn’t be bringing anything in, on top of losing my wage from after school shifts. Our family was barely scraping by as it was. It sucked letting that dream go, but?—”

The sound of a full body slam cut me off.

“Prowl?”

Another slam.

“Prowl!”

I grabbed my towel, flinging it across my body as I dashed out from behind the curtain.

Prowl was breathing hard, his eyes wild.

He fell to his knees at the sight of me, and I rushed forward, stopping just far enough to stay out of reach.

“Oh my god! What happened?”

He drew in a shaky breath.

“Your scent was fading, and I couldn’t see you.”

I fisted my towel tighter, ignoring the shampoo sliding down my neck and the water puddling beneath me.

“My voice wasn’t enough?”

“I couldn’t trust it. Couldn’t trust you were still really here.”

“I’m sorry.”

His butt sank back onto his heels as his eyes ran over me, looking like he was memorising every trailing drip and soap-covered curve.

“We tried.”

“Yeah, but I still need to wash this off,” I said, waving at myself.

His body tensed. “I need to see you.”

“I’ll be naked!”

“Please.”

“Jesus.”

“Please,” he repeated, his voice like gravel, rough with a sharp edge of desperation.

I looked back at the running shower.

“Maybe I can hang the towel across while I…” I trailed off, realising there was nothing I could attach it to, or use to keep it high enough to cover my bits.

I was too soaped up to put anything back on, and seriously didn’t want to spend the next two years showering in my underwear.

Which meant one thing.

Prowl was going to see me naked.

He wouldn’t be the first, and he most likely hadn’t seen enough women to judge me too harshly on my stretch marks and dimpled thighs.

Plus, he probably wouldn’t get much further than staring at my boobs.

I nodded, more to myself than him, as I walked back to the shower.

Prowl wasn’t asking for a show.

He was asking for help staying calm, and helping him was what I was here for.

“Have you met many other women?”

“The ones they’ve brought here, trying to help me,” he said, his voice still rough.

I swallowed. “Any naked ones?”

“Just porn,” he said, matter-of-factly.

My eyes flew back to him, where he still hadn’t moved.

Two new angry welts were already appearing where his body had met the wall.

I reached for the curtain, wondering how far I could keep it pulled closed.

Did he just need a glimpse of me every now and then?

Or did he need a constant, full view?

My thighs clenched at the thought, pulling a groan from me.

The poor guy was just trying to keep his sanity, and here I was, getting a tingle in my bits over the idea of being watched.

I cleared my throat as I dragged the curtain the whole way open.

Prowl had enough damage to his body without me causing more.

“Do you still need me to talk?”

I braced for his answer.

I didn’t think I could manage both, but I’d stumble through whatever I needed to.

He shook his head, thank god.

I took a steadying breath, gave my thighs one last inappropriate squeeze, then dropped my half-soaked towel and stepped beneath the still-running water.

I tipped my head back, drowning my hair with closed eyes.

I could feel his gaze like a physical heat, touching every part of me.

The tingle turned into an ache, and my nails running over my scalp, removing the last of my shampoo added to the intensity.

My eyes fluttered open as I stepped clear of the spray, squeezing the water from my hair.

Prowl was standing again, his hands gripping his barred door, watching me slide the conditioner through my dark strands.

“You okay, big guy?”

He inhaled through his nose, a flash of frustration crossing his face, there and gone again in a blink.

I took the following dip of his chin as a yes.

“Of course you are,” I said, soaping up my wash cloth.

My voice sounded normal, but my breaths were quick and shallow, and I could feel the beat of my heart thumping in both my chest and my clit.

The cloth started at my neck, before working its way along my shoulders and down each arm.

Prowl’s breath caught in his throat, loud enough for me to hear, as I lathered my breasts, stomach and inner thighs.

He growled, and my nipples hardened in response, the low tone vibrating through me like a physical touch.

I gathered enough courage to look at him, but his eyes were glued to my body, the tent in his pants reassuring me it wasn’t a panicked sound.

I turned my back to him, biting back a whimper as his rough tone grew louder.

I dropped the cloth, my hands running over my skin, lingering a little too long in places, my mind shoving images of him standing behind me, replacing my slim fingers and soft palms with his thick, roughened ones.

My clit responded with a desperate throb.

I knocked the temperature to freezing, releasing a startled gasp as it hit my skin, helping me crash back to reality.

But it was hard to forget when my body still ached with need.

Thirty seconds more and the water was off, my wet towel trying and ultimately failing to do much besides remove the bulk of the water from my hair, the still dry second towel wrapped securely around me.

The door alert sounded and opened a few seconds later, revealing a guard in fatigues and a woman in a simple blue uniform pushing a kitchen trolley.

The guard looked between us.

“Dinner’s here.”

The woman gave me a nervous smile before putting a covered tray and a condensation-covered jug on my dining table.

She didn’t acknowledge or even glance in Prowl’s direction, which sent of spike of anger through me.

He was still a person.

One who’d obviously been struggling.

Whatever her past visits had been like, he was securely contained and clearly calm.

She had no reason to be ignoring his existence.

She took the cover off a second tray and passed the guard the paper plate beneath, loaded with way too much meat and not nearly enough veggies, along with three empty paper cups.

“Is it alright for me to approach, Prowl?”

Prowl’s eyes raked over him before settling back on me.

He took a few steps back, clearing his doorway.

“I’m good.”

The guard covered the distance in quick strides, placing his food and cups on the small ledge that sliced through the midpoint of his barred door before stepping back beside the woman.

“The kitchen will collect your dishes when they deliver breakfast.”

“No dessert?” Popped out before I could stop it.

The guard quirked an eyebrow.

“There usually is. Kara?”

The woman in blue shrugged.

“I just push the trolley.”

He rolled his eyes at her answer.

“I’m Henry.”

“Daff,” I said, giving an awkward wave.

“Nice to officially meet you. I’m your first responder tonight. Not that she’ll need to hit that button, will she Prowl?”

The left side of Prowl’s wide nose flared, but his eyes stayed on me.

“I’ll keep her safe.”

Henry raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

I didn’t appreciate his reaction to Prowl’s answer, but I got it.

How could he possibly keep me safe from behind his bars, and eight inches of wall?

“I’ll be out there if you need me.”

“Okay,” I answered, as he guided Kara out and closed the door.

I wanted to ask Prowl if all the women he’d met treated him like that, but I didn’t want to upset him again, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.

“Henry seems nice.”

Prowl grunted, watching me as I dressed like fire was chasing me, which was ridiculous since he’d just seen me wash every inch of my body.

I sat at the dining table and uncovering my food, a smaller version of his, but with a better ratio of vegetables.

“Are you going to eat?”

He was eyeing his food like it might attack him.

“I’ve not felt hungry in a long time.”

I paused, my knife and fork hovering over my steak.

He’d likely lost a lot of muscle mass if he hadn’t been eating.

Which was nuts. He was easily three of me across and ripped like an airbrushed bodybuilder in a gym magazine.

“Would you try for me?”

His large hand reached for his plate, taking it with him as he sank into a squat and sniffed it.

His eyes flew to mine, his shoulders bouncing in a small shrug.

“Habit. They drugged our food a lot. It was the only way they could briefly immobilise us, besides doing that,” he said, flicking a finger towards his neck and the band of scarring I hadn’t noticed.

Whether it was the distraction of his facial differences, his beard mostly hiding it, or the onslaught of hormones while I showered and he watched, now that I’d seen the inch-thick scar wrapping all the way around his neck; it was nuts that I hadn’t.

“The aftereffects of being drugged are easier to deal with on the waking side if you know it’s coming beforehand.”

“That’s awful.”

His shoulders moved again.

Did he keep the movement small because his bruises hurt?

Or because he thought his past wasn’t a big deal?

“It was all we’d ever known.”

“It’s better here, though?”

The heat in his golden eyes threatened to melt me.

“Better than anything I could have ever hoped for.”