Page 37 of Wintertime Heat (Holiday 1)

Once the doors close, he leans over and pinches both my cheeks, looking a little annoyed, “Stop looking at me like that. It’s just a house.”

My cheeks were stretched, and I garble out, “It’s not a house. It’s a freaking palace.”

The elevator dings, and the door opens to the second floor.

“This way,” Steven tells me, his brow furrowed at the way I was trying to take in everything.

His bedroom was huge.

A huge bed was positioned in the centre of the room, against the wall, with a vanity right across from it. There was a small glass coffee table with two chairs and even from the entrance of the room, I could see some of Aaron’s toys cluttered near it. A small chaise in the corner, next to a huge wardrobe and a door that seemed to lead into a private bathroom.

“Stop gawking,” Steven chastises me.

“Yeah, sure,” I mumble, not paying him any heed.

I put my hand on the bed, marvelling at the softness of the bed spread.

Steven leaves me to my own devices and walks over to the massive fireplace, where he casually lights a fire, as if that was an everyday thing for him.

“Aren’t you worried that the carpet will catch fire?” I ask, my eyes transfixed on the way he looks, kneeling in his suit against the firelight.

He turns to look at me, “There’s a protective screening in front of the fire.”

“Oh.” I wrap my arms around my stomach.

A knock on the door has him walking toward it in long strides, and he opens it with a click, “Jarvis.”

“I can go out and get some clothes for your guest, Sir. There is nothing available at the moment.”

I wince, “Can’t you just lend me a T-shirt or something?”

Steven stares at me, before dismissing Jarvis.

He holds up a black button-up shirt, “Will this do?”

I nod and take it from his outstretched hand.

“The bathroom’s through there,” He points to the small door, next to the wardrobe.

My bare feet padding over the carpeted floor, I twist the handle and let myself in.

I don’t give myself time to gawk over the modern and chic bathroom, quickly stripping from my cold and wet dress.

In the full-length mirror, I study my bare form, clad only in undergarments and my heart beats a little faster at the finger marks on my thigh where Travis had dug his clumsy fingers.

Stumbling to the counter, I wash off my makeup, suddenly not wanting to look the least bit appealing. The shower looks tempting, so I quickly turn the settings to boiling, and wash away any remnants of my date’s touch.

I wanted to keep scrubbing, feeling filthy. Tears slid down my cheeks as I attempted to be clean.

“Abby? Are you okay in there?”

I hear Steven’s voice from where I had curled up into a ball. It centres me, knowing he was out there, on the other side of the door.

I step out of the shower, my voice a little hoarse, “Yeah. Give me a few minutes.”

Drying myself with the towel hanging from the rail, I run it through my hair, letting it absorb the water.

My eyes look hollow as I stare at myself in the mirror, my skin too pale against my dark eyes.

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