Page 43 of Poisoned Pawn

“I can walk,” I tell him, pushing his hands away from me. My neediness has twisted my emotions into irritation. Irritation that he’s seeing me at my worst. Irritation that after such raw and intense sex—fantastic fucking sex—I’m a sobbing wreck of a woman. Vulnerable. He makes me vulnerable, and it irks me.

He holds his hands up and steps back, allowing me to stand on my own. On shaky legs, I force myself to my full height and lift my chin as I raise my head, looking him in the eye.

His eyes hold mine in a stare off, and I feel as they burrow beneath my skin, scanning the very depths of my soul. Other than a scowl, his face shows no emotion at all.

I step toward the bath. My legs wobble, but I make damn sure they hold me up. Reaching it, I grip the edge and let out a quiet breath, blowing it through my pursed lips slow and measured. I can feel him hovering behind me, waiting for the moment when I fall. But I won’t. Not again.

Slowly throwing a leg over the side, I climb in. The warm water prickles against my chilled skin, thawing me out from my toes to the top of my head as I lower myself.

Once settled, I lay back, closing my eyes and slip deeper beneath the water until it reaches my chin, leaving only my head exposed.

How easy it would be to slide beneath the water and let it steal my last breath. It’s a thought I’ve had before, but I’d never go through with it. That would mean Don won. He stole a lot from me, my mum, my sister and my innocence. There is no way I’d give that bastard the satisfaction of stealing my life too.

A shadow falls across my closed eyelids, and I know if I open them he will be leaning over the bath staring down at me. I can practically feel his eyes as they travel the length of my body.

“Open your eyes, princess.”

I roll my eyes behind my lids at him calling me princess, then I slowly open them. And as I thought, he is leaning over the bath, one hand on either side, looking down at me.

“That thought you were thinking, forget it. I’m going to get you some clothes, and when I come back you better still be fucking breathing. ‘Cause if you’re not, I’ll travel to Hell and fight the devil for you.” He continues to look at me for a moment longer, then happy he’s made his point, he pushes away from the bath and disappears out the door, leaving it open.

I struggle with the idea that he can read me so easily, but more than that, his last comment stabs at the demons that plague me. They settle back into the dark crevices of my mind.

I let my eyes trail over my body, taking in all the places Carter has left his mark. My fingers brush over the inside of my thighs and the red rash from his beard as I rode his face.

“Hmmm, Michelin star cuisine right fucking there,” comes a deep rumble from behind me.

I’m exhausted, emotionally wrung out, but that doesn’t stop the deep stirring of desire at his words.

“Sit up,” he demands as he appears in my line of sight beside me. I notice that he’s changed into another pair of joggers but is shirtless.

I ease myself into a sitting position as Carter grabs a bottle of shampoo from the side and kneels. Water cascades over my head and down my back several times, then his hands are in my hair, massaging my scalp as the scent of tea tree and lavender permeates the air.

It feels amazing, and I close my eyes with a groan.

“I’m not a fucking saint, Star.”

A smile slips across my face. “I’m sorry but it feels so good.”

“Lots of things feel good. None of which are on the table right now.” His tone implies a high level of restraint, and I’m thankful for it.

While I don’t think I could deny him, it wouldn’t be a good idea given where my mind went earlier. I’ve never experienced a sub drop before. And while the term generally refers to submissives, it can happen to anyone after an intense scene or sexual experience. For me, it’s just another layer of my complicated sex life.

The fact that he’s aware and is focused on caring for me only confirms my feelings about this man.

I don’t entirely understand them, but I do know Carter is the cure to my afflictions.

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

CARTER

One question and the euphoria I was riding pops like a fucking balloon. Her face pales, her eyes become like black holes and her breathing erratic.

As soon as I touch her, she snaps out of it, turning on me, trying to get away.

“I’ve got you. It’s me, Star. Carter,” I say, wrapping my arms around her. “Shhh, you’re safe. I’ve got you.” Thunder rattles the sky above as she breaks apart in my arms. When she’s finally spent, I lift her and carry her through to my bathroom. Setting the bath to run, I slowly take in her body, and I can’t ignore the deep satisfaction I get from seeing my marks on her. But it pales in comparison to the utter devastation being wrought through my bloodstream as I think about what set her off. I know it’s not just a sub drop. My question triggered a memory for her. And I want to delve into her mind and tear it from her subconscious. I want to obliterate the memory. Them. What I want to do to those men would make Jack the Ripper look like child’s play.

And I fucking will.

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