Page 19 of Savage Seduction

As soon as the steam starts floating over the curtain, I step inside. The blast of heat burns at first, but as always, feels good within a few seconds. I close my eyes and relax into the rivers of lava that flow over my tight muscles. Focusing on my breathing, I take long inhalations through my nose and exhale through pursed lips. A few seconds later, I hang my head and let my shoulders slump. If the rest of the evening goes well, sleep will greet me tonight. May the dreams be as peaceful as I feel now.

The steady stream of hot water rolls down my back, soothing away the tension in my muscles. I close my eyes, letting my forehead rest against the cool tile as steam swirls around me. The shower has always been my escape, a place where I can be alone with my thoughts, where I don’t have to pretend or hold back.

My thoughts quickly drift to Ben. Damn, he’s gorgeous.

It’s impossible not to think about him. He’s been on my mind since we met. Ben, with his piercing eyes and strong hands—the kind of hands that are trained to heal, but all I can think about is how they might feel on my skin. The way he moves, so precise and controlled, yet there’s something underneath, something simmering just below the surface. I wonder if he ever loses that control, if he ever lets himself just feel, like when he thinks of me.

My stomach tightens and I press my lips together, exhaling sharply as my body starts to react. The water cascades over me, rivulets tracing over my shoulders, my chest, my abdomen, heightening my awareness of every inch of my skin.

My fingers glide over my stomach, slow and teasing, as I let my mind wander freely. I picture Ben standing in front of me, water dripping down what I imagine his sculpted chest to be, his dark hair damp and messy. He’d watch me with that knowing gaze, the one that says he sees right through me, past all my walls and defenses. My breath hitches as I imagine him stepping closer, the heat between us hotter than the water pouring down my back. His fingers would ghost over my skin, barely touching, but enough to send a shiver through me.

I shiver as goosebumps spread across my chest, arms, and back.

Now, I lean back against the tile, one hand bracing myself as the other slides lower. My head tips back, lips parting as I imagine his voice, deep and smooth, whispering my name. He’d take his time, dragging his lips along my throat, tracing his tongue down over my pounding heart, just to feel it jump beneath his touch.

I lean my head harder against the tile as my fantasy continues. Closing my eyes, I see him. The water beading on his skin, sliding down his chest. My cock hardens as I imagine how I’d follow the path with my hands, feeling the warmth of his body against mine.

A low sound escapes me, lost in the hiss of the shower. My body is thrumming now, my hand moving in slow, deliberate strokes as I sink deeper into the fantasy. Ben would press me against the cool tile, his breath hot against my ear as our breaths quicken with desire. My knees tremble as I feel the weight of him, the way his body fits against mine, the electricity surging between us setting me on fire.

I groan, hips rolling into my own touch. My mindspirals further, picturing the way his hands would grip my hips, his fingers pressing into my skin, marking me. He’d take his time, making me beg, making me come undone just for him. The way he’d look at me afterward, like I was the only thing that mattered in the world—that’s what undoes me completely.

The pressure builds, winding tight in my core, my strokes becoming more desperate. I chase the feeling, lost in the imagined sensation of Ben’s mouth on my skin, the rasp of his voice in my ear, the heat of his body pressed against mine. The pleasure crests, and I let go, shuddering as waves of bliss crash over me. My breath comes in ragged gasps, my body trembling from the intensity of it.

For a long moment, I stay there, letting the water wash away the evidence of my desire, grounding me back in reality. My limbs feeling heavy, my heart still racing as I press my palm to the tile. The fantasy lingers, the ghost of Ben’s touch still burning on my skin. I swallow hard, blinking against the steam.

And that’s when it happens. A thump from outside my inner peace brings me back to the pain of reality. What was that? I pop my head out around the curtain and listen.

Thump.

My eyes open wide. Turning off the water, I slowly pull the curtain back and look to the bathroom door. Unlocked. Fuck. Heart pounding and on shaky legs, I slink out of the shower without grabbing a towel and tiptoe over to the vanity where I keep a knife taped under the sink. With a soft click, the cabinet door opens, and I fish around for the weapon without taking my eyes from the bathroom door.

It’s gone. Fighting against the rising panic, I duck my head under the sink to get a better look. The Velcro straps that secured the blade are loose and empty. Someone’s been in here… watching me?

Straightening up to stand, I curse myself under my breathfor leaving my cellphone in the living room. Looking back to the door once again, I feel frozen in place, fear winning out over strength and experience. Stuck in the bathroom, the gun in the top drawer of my dresser wouldn’t do shit for me, if it was even still there. Dammit.Think, Max.

I look up to see myself in the mirror and immediately step back in terror. An ankh had been traced in the center. The steam thick across its surface except for where it’d been drawn. My vision tunnels and my breath catches in my chest. Rushing around to the side of the vanity, I slink down to the floor, my back pressed up against the wood cabinetry. Head in my hands, I shake. Trying to clear my mind and focus on what I need at this moment, I let out a long breath through pursed lips. Why is this happening to me? Why now? My hands tremble as I press them against the side of my chest as if the wound had suddenly reopened.

Memories flood back against my will, playing like a movie in my mind. The bathroom décor fades away as I remember.I follow the suspect into an abandoned warehouse in East Los Angeles. I quickly call for backup before entering the premises. I start to creep through the damp rat-infested structure, stepping through a large doorway into an expansive portion of the crumbling building, and stop. The only light shining in is from the full moon that illuminates the cement floor through a gaping hole in the roof. Water endlessly drips through cracks and holes throughout the facility soaking my clothes and hair and I continue to search. It’s not long before I shiver and wipe the water from my face, my other hand on the gun I hold close to my chest—finger near the trigger. Now, pressing my back against the far wall I strain to hear any sign of the killer or the victim I’ve come to save. A creak of wood and scrape of metal-on-metal sends a shiver up my spine as I slide up the wall to full height. Against my better judgement, I catch a glance around the corner of the wall. Suddenly, wood splinters just above my head,sending me reeling away from the attack. I turn to the left, but the second blow doesn’t miss. Something heavy slams into my stomach and I fall to the floor like a ragdoll, head impacting the cemented ground, my gun skittering away out of reach. My only means of self-defence.

I jerk back to the present, away from the nightmarish recollection. Yet my heart’s pounding and my breaths are coming in ragged spurts.Fuck.This was the second flashback in as many days. I’d thought I left those memories behind, moved past them. So, why were they resurfacing now?

I stand, dripping wet and naked. Creeping toward the door, every minute sound sends shockwaves of fear through my brain. With a trembling hand, I reach for the doorknob. Hand securely in place, I turn it and slide the door open.

Every muscle taut, fists clenched, and jaw set, I step out into the hallway, hands up, ready to fight. The glow from the T.V. flickers from the living room, but no sound meets my ears. Taking one step at a time, stopping to listen, look, and plan, I work my way toward the living room. As I get close enough to see the front door, my stomach lurches to see it cracked open. A quick glance behind me, then I take another step into the living room, eyes searching every nook and cranny for hidden dangers.

I rush the front door and slam into it, shoulder first. Securing the lock, I run to the kitchen and grab a knife from the butcher block.I’m not going to run away. Not this time. This might be a shitty fucking apartment, but it’s mine and I’m not going anywhere.Sweat mixed with water from my damp hair trails down my spine and makes me shiver. Tightening my grip on the knife hilt, I flip on the hallway light. No one charges me. No one jumps out from the bathroom or bedroom, so I continue moving, slow but sure, my confidence building with each step. Holding the blade close to mybody, I bend my knees and widen my stance as I step into the bedroom.

With one stride, I reach the light switch and flip it on. My bedroom appears untouched. Bed unmade, laundry piled on one side of the queen-sized mattress. It is how I’d left it. Without pulling my gaze from the potential dangers of the room, I clench the knife in one hand and open the top drawer of the dresser with the other. I pull it completely free of the dresser and toss it on the bed. The gun I’d secured to the back of the drawer is still there. I snatch the gun and shove the knife between the mattress and box spring, hilt sticking out enough to grab in an emergency.

Gun in hand, I breathe a sigh of relief—first time I’d felt that way holding my firearm in a very long time. I flip off the safety and go in search of the demons haunting me. First the closet and then under the bed. I systematically secure the premises before allowing myself to rest. Making my way through the apartment to the front door, I double-check it is locked before grabbing my cellphone.

“Max?” London says, a touch of surprise in her voice. “We didn’t have a study date, did we? You alright?”

“No.” I swallow down the rising emotions. “Can you come over?”

“What’s going on? Are you safe? Where are you?”

“I’m at my place,” I say, shaking my head. “I can’t explain over the phone… please, can you come over?”

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