Page 31 of Heartless Game

Make a list of what you want and I’ll make sure to order it for you. Or we can just go pick it up from your apartment tomorrow.

Like what I wanted mattered to him. Like we were dating, like there was aweat all. I didn’t know why Isaac was pretending to care about what sort of toiletries I wanted, when he didn’t give a shit about me. But I’d make sure to get my hair stuff…and whatever else I could use against him. I’d hide my interview recorder in my shampoo bottle, if that’s what it took.

Locating an unused toothbrush, and hating that he had an unused toothbrush, and then hating myself for hating it, I spread some toothpaste on it and brushed my teeth, staring at myself in the mirror. My skin was flushed, and I could pretend it was only from the shower, but I knew better. My eyes were big and dark and confused. Scared.

Who would I be when I finally got out of this madhouse?

“Tovah,” he called from outside the bathroom, his voice annoyingly, enticingly husky. “You done?”

I froze.

I wasn’t ready to see him yet. I’d basically ran out of the kitchen after yelling at him for making me come without my consent.

I should be angrier about that. Should be fuckinglividthat he’d taken my choice away from me.

So why wasn’t I?

“Tovah,” he called again.

You’re strong, Tovah Lewis. Smart and clever and tough. More than even he realizes. You can do this.

With that short silent pep talk, I blew myself a kiss in the mirror and opened the bathroom door, letting the steam out and facing Isaac.

And then immediately regretted it when I spotted him there, framed in the door in grey cutoff sweats and no shirt, his delectable abs on full display.

But when I went to slam the bathroom door back shut, he stopped me, putting out a hand and catching it.

“Hiding?” he commented.

I straightened my shoulders, aware that they were bare, that there was nothing separating him and my naked body but the towel. His towel. Pretending I had no such awareness, or just didn’t give a shit, I tossed my wet hair. “No, but your bedroom is cold. Can I borrow some clothes?”

He stared at me in his towel, his throat working.

“Fuck no,” he muttered.

“Excuse me?” I raised an eyebrow, trying to control my breathing. “There’s no way I’m sleeping naked with you. So I can either go sleep in another room or you can give me clothes.”

He sauntered over to his armoire, pulling out a big t-shirt that said Reina Kings on it and tossed it to me. “You can sleep in that.”

I rolled my eyes. “I need underwear.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Isaac.” My voice broke.

His eyes narrowed, and whatever else he was going to say got cut off with a snarl. A pair of man’s boxer-briefs sailed toward me, and I caught them.

“I need the bathroom,” he muttered, walking toward me, grabbing me around the waist, and moving me out of the way like I was an annoying piece of furniture. The bathroom door slammed behind him.

I heard the water turn on.

Hell, now was the perfect time to snoop.

Keeping my eyes on the bathroom door, I pulled on the huge shirt and boxer-briefs. I walked around the bedroom, opening the drawers on the right nightstand, but other than a huge box of condoms and a pair of metal handcuffs I dropped immediately back into the drawer like they’d burned me, I found nothing.

The door opened and I turned toward it like I hadn’t been doing anything sketchy.

Isaac came out, a towel wrapped around his waist. His dark hair was wet, droplets trickling down his face, his neck, one sliding between his clavicles to make its way between his pecs…

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