Page 47 of Hell Breaks Loose

Go figure, I would start to appreciate having him around constantly. Even if I do try to ditch him all the time, playing hide and seek and trying to sabotage his job.

Any presence is comforting at this point.

But I’m on my own. Always. So I get up, leaving my breakfast plate and coffee half finished, and head back upstairs.

An hour later, I’m soaking in the massive tub.

It’s a sort of mid-morning ritual that I’ve assumed, unwinding, usually with a glass of white wine.

Yeah. I know.

Morning wine.

I’m winning at life.

Forced staycation. Shut off from doing anything to help the people I love.

All of my plans so far have come up against the walls of this elegant prison and the guards patrolling outside. There has to be some way for me to get ahead.

So I put my mind to work, drifting in the hot water, the steam.

Meditating. Or at least shutting off my busy brain of anxiety and useless ruminating, hoping that a spark of inspiration will come.

Additionally, the bath time is devoid of any interruptions.

Margaret won’t come in unless I call. Sing won’t bother me.

The first couple of days, the only thoughts I had were of breaking all of Marco’s shit. Smashing the trophies he took from Sanctum.

But it’s short-sighted.

I need him to let me in close enough to end him.

He likely knows better than to let me near him in that way, which might explain why he hasn’t shown any interest in becoming intimate with me.

Thank every god across the universe for that.

Shoving that thought aside, I drift back toward Sanctum in my mind.

Home.

However, when I think of home, I realize that it’s not the place I think of. Or not just the place.

It’s them.

My three guys.

The scalding bath eases my tension as images of them flit freely behind my closed eyes. Their faces, Tell’s sparkling emerald eyes, Evan’s smoldering gaze, Gavin’s hint of a smile.

Instantly, I feel my body flush from more than just the heat of the soapy water.

Maybe it’s the wine, hitting a little harder than usual.

I let myself sink into the quiet that Tell taught me those months before.

The same calm I used to survive my hell at Grico and Lonnie’s hands.

Only now, I see my lovers, their muscular bodies shifting around me, skin grazing against skin, lips brushing my shoulders, my neck, my breasts. Fingertips scraping along my full, thick thighs.

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