Page 36 of Locke

“You want to sleep on the floor?”

“I don’t care.”

He twisted around to look at me, his face oddly pale and drenched. “If you don’t get in, you’ll be showering with me.”

I raised my chin, saying nothing.

His eyes narrowed on me. “You’re going to regret this, woman.”

I didn’t know what he meant until he strolled out, gripped me sharply by the arm and forcefully dragged me under his showerhead. The second I was under the spray, I screamed with shock, my body instantly coated with icy water. I bucked, trying to get away, but his arm sat firmly around my waist as he kept me under the head, growling, “You should listen, little lion. It’s better for you if you did as you’re told—”

“Fuck you!”

“Are those the only words you know?”

I continued to struggle, dragging my nails into his arms, clawing at him as I froze, and Locke—he took the abuse without a single break in his hold. He held me to his ice-cold body like it was nothing to him.

Why?

Why the fuck was he rinsing in arctic temperatures?

“Let go,” he growled. “Come on, woman, quit fighting.”

I physically couldn’t fight anymore. The cold was shutting me down, until I just stood there, drenched and numb, miserable and detached.

“I’m not trying to put out your flame,” he whispered to me as my teeth clattered. “I’m just trying to get you to tame it. Together we can make a fire, little lion. Together we can burn.”

Then he released me, and I stumbled forward, losing my balance. My hand shot out to the granite wall as I stepped further away from the freezing water and under the other showerhead. Every step was a mission. Teeth chattering, I worked quickly to turn the water on, adjusting it to the hottest setting. My body felt like it was being hit by razorblades as my cold skin met with the sudden heat. I cried from the pain of it, feeling absolutely miserable.

“Don’t touch me!” I screamed the second he drew near to me.

But he didn’t listen. He took me by the arm again and forced me just out of the water. With a shampoo bottle in one hand, he raised it over my head and squirted it. He wasn’t gentle when he scrubbed at my scalp and then reached around to a hanging rack for something else. The same reaction I had toward the cold, he was having toward the heat.

This man was strange.

Fetching a rag and body wash, he coated the rag, tossed the container down like it was garbage and scrubbed my skin next, starting with my arms and then down my legs. I watched with dead eyes as the water turned dark and swirled down the drain. He acted fast, and then we were back under the hot spray, with his arms around me, as if taking care of me now.

“I warned you, woman,” he murmured, looking down at me. “Why don’t you listen?”

“I’ll never listen,” I weakly replied, dejected.

“For what purpose?”

Still chattering, I retorted, “Because f-fuck you!”

He smirked, but there was no humour in his eyes as he retorted, “If you think you’re getting back at me by not following simple instruction, you’re doing more harm to yourself—”

“I don’t care.”

His brows rose. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Don’t order me around. I’m not one of your fucking cronies!”

We stood still for a moment, staring at each other with challenging eyes.

Finally, he nodded curtly. “It appears we’re cut from the same cloth.”

“No.”

---