Page 75 of Devious Lies (Cruel Crown)
My fingers twitched with the need to toss the room for my wallet. I held back. Barely. I dipped into the en suite bathroom, my nipples instantly puckering after I stripped off my clothes. Something about being naked in the place Nash slept felt dangerous. Exposing. Intimate.
Pulling my shower caddy out of the backpack, I plopped it into the standing shower and slung my towel onto the spare towel hook near the door. The shower was made completely of glass on all sides, sitting in the center of the large bathroom.
I felt like a statue in a museum display as I padded barefoot into the shower and stood directly under the built-in rainfall shower head. Shampoo, conditioner, and body wash from the Prescott Hotels skincare line sat in a row on the built-in shelf. His new scent, I realized, after I popped a cap and sniffed.
I flicked on the water switch, groaning the instant the hot liquid lashed my back, pounding onto my head like I was standing beneath a North Carolina thunderstorm.
It was almost—almost—enough to forgive Nash.
I’d managed to avoid him all week, feeling zero-percent guilty about serving him scalding-hot coffee. He’d robbed me of my wallet and the money in it when I needed every dime I owned. Was this how all the Winthrop victims felt? Desperate and penniless, fingers ready to dig under couch cushions for every spare cent?
I twisted another switch, and the water spread across the entire shower ceiling, a torrent of hot rain I could barely breathe through. The onslaught eased my sore muscles, and I relaxed under the spray, my limbs loose and body begging for more.
I stayed longer than I should have. Unlike the studio I’d lived in near Clifton University, the water didn?
??t turn cold after seven minutes and twenty-three seconds, telling me it was time to leave.
It remained blissfully hot. A luxury sauna. I rubbed at my neck, cursing when I felt how pruned my fingers were since I hadn’t even begun to wash. My body swayed under the pouring water, eyes closed. I hummed the melody of Jeremy Zucker’s “you were good to me.”
My eyes popped open. I reached for my shampoo, but my eyes met Nash’s.
I froze.
Couldn’t think.
Couldn’t speak.
Couldn’t move.
Nash wore a suit that hugged his body, his hair the same mess and his eyes the same shade of irritation. For a fleeting second, I wondered what he looked like out of the suit. I’d seen him naked once, but I’d been too preoccupied by the fact that I’d slept with the wrong brother to pay attention.
The woven fabric of his suit taunted me, hiding something I’d probably never see again.
You don’t want to see him naked, Emery.
Lie.
I did, but in the way you’d stare at a car wreck as you drive by—with morbid fascination at witnessing something destructive.
Dangerous.
Deadly.
The dark scowl on Nash’s face never left. He pressed his phone to his ear—a new phone, I noted with some satisfaction.
If I could break you, too, I would.
His lips moved at a rapid pace I couldn’t keep up with. I heard nothing beyond my heartbeat and the water. My palm darted to the switch. I turned it so only the middle strip of the shower head remained on. I could hear him better that way.
He knew, because he narrowed his eyes on me, never once dipping below my face to my body. If our situations were reversed, I never would have had the willpower. Or maybe I really disgusted him, and he didn’t need willpower to resist looking at me. He simply didn’t want to.
“Don’t call security, Delilah.” Whitened fingers gripped the phone, tight enough it should have cracked from the pressure. “No one broke in. False alarm.” His clipped tone pierced me. He bit out, “Yeah, I’m fucking sure.”
I stood in silence, at a loss at what to say for once in my life. I wanted to wrap my arms around my body and cover myself. Instead, I lifted my chin and stood proudly, daring him to stare at me.
The tight peaks of my nipples pointed directly at him. I kept myself bare, completely shaved. A mistake, I now realized, as I felt the rainwater trickle down my body, past my folds, caressing my clit.
My breathing grew shallow in the silence, the water feeling suddenly warmer. Too hot. I fumbled with the latch, telling myself I needed to keep my cool if I ever expected to live this down.
