Page 85 of Gilded Locks
Like hers. Only she needed to learn Russian.
Now, she was doing the same. She wasn’t playing games or drifting through the days here with naive trust. She was calculating angles. Strategizing. And he admired her effort.
She could have gone to the sauna or swam in the pool. She could have leisurely read a novel or watched television. The atrium was beautiful for indoor walks. But no. She’d used her free time to better her situation, asking nothing of anyone else, and taking the initiative all on her own.
And damn it all to hell, that told him more about the kind of woman she was than anything else so far.
“Resourceful little fox,” he muttered, webbing his fingers over the screen of his phone to better read the expression on her face.
She set the book on the nightstand with careful reverence, fingers lingering on the cover. His chest tightened. That book had been his lifeline once. His loyalty toward Ash was cemented in that uphill battle as his good friend patiently taught him word by painful word as the world burned down around them.
He owed Ash an apology for the other day. He’d been out of sorts and unwilling to accept that they might benefit to having the sister of Jordan Calder in their home. Seeing Ash touch her…it unlocked emotions in Hunter he wasn’t in the mood to face, and Ash walked face first into his fury.
Hunter was still debating if he could trust her, but the longer she stayed the thoughts of punishing her for her brother’s crimes made less and less sense.
Marigold disappeared into the bathroom and he switched camera views. The wine bottle sat abandoned on the dressing table.
He should look away but he didn’t. He clicked to the lens angled at the claw-footed tub. He zoomed in on her face, noting the divot between her cinched brows. Her motions appeared frantic and flustered, as if she were on the verge of tears.
She stripped off the long socks and skin-tight dress with urgent movements, not sensual but desperate. He frowned, wondering why she appeared so agitated.
As the tub filled, she stepped into the shower alcove. Confused, he switched lenses again. Clouds of steam made it difficult to see as she scrubbed at her skin under the shower spray. Nothing happened between them, yet she seemed to be washing a memory away.
Did he disgust her so much that the mere thought of him almost touching her needed to be scrubbed from her skin?
His jaw clenched. She’d been the one to lean into him. Those big brown eyes begging for him to taste her. Or so he’d thought.
He went back to the library feed and rewound, stopping at the moment she edged closer. Yes. It was there. Clear as day. So why was she furiously washing away her sins?
Holding his thumb on the reverse control, he sped backwards through their interaction. Then it was just her, sitting in the library, sipping her wine. Peaceful. Alone.
Where had she come from?
He followed the cameras, retracing her steps. As she walked in reverse through the hall, her expression appeared distressed. She looked back and chewed her lip. Through the kitchen, where she’d stolen the wine. Back, back, back he followed until—”Bingo.”
She’d walked in on one of Stone’s sessions. He replayed the brief encounter, turning up the volume to hear what she said to Ash. She thought he was hurting Stone, but Hunter knew better. Stone needed weekly sessions to keep his demons at bay. They all had secret coping mechanisms that ensured they didn’t snap in mixed company. The whip was part of Stone’s.
He went back to the camera in her bathroom, returning to the present feed. The shower shut off. She wrapped herself in a towel and padded to the bathtub. Steam rose from the taps, fogging the mirror, but the overhead camera caught everything. The way she sank into the water with a sigh made him question if he’d ever know such comfort.
Her eyes fluttered closed as the heated water embraced her. She appeared calmer now. Serene even. Had she washed him out of her system that easily?
She used her toe to adjust the taps, turning the rushing water off. He zoomed in as she closed her eyes again. Those lips… Even as she’d butchered his mother language, he’d been enchanted by her mouth, watching her pink tongue caress every syllable as she took instruction from him so well.
If he’d kissed her in the library, with those beautiful Russian vowels still on her tongue and his fingers caressing her pulse, he would have taken her there on the floor. Would have made her scream his name in both languages until she understood the only word that mattered.
Moy. Mine.
But she wasn’t his. Couldn’t be. Not when rage still poisoned his blood every time he looked at her. Not when he didn’t know if he wanted to worship her or?—
Her hand drifted beneath the water’s surface.
Fuck.
Hunter adjusted the intercom controls, turning the volume all the way up so he could hear her soft breathing over the gentle lapping of water.
He should shut it off. Should walk away. He could bury himself in a hundred beautiful women at a moment’s notice. He just had to make a call. But every other option held no appeal. He only craved one woman, and she was his enemy’s blood.
Her breath hitched, barely audible through the speakers. Her other hand gripped the tub’s edge as her body arched subtly. Beautiful. Hungry. Alone.
