Page 23 of Deadly Passion

He approaches carefully as if he’s afraid of what I’ll do.

“You want to bathe… like this?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“These clothes need a wash, anyway,” I say, refusing to remove them.

He doesn’t reply, but his jaw clenches as he scoops me into his arms. I half-expect to be dropped, but he gently lowers me into the water with an unexpected tenderness. I don’t want to read into it, but I can’t help wondering whether any of the feelings he had for me are still there.

“Hold your arms out. I’ll free one hand while you’re in the bath,” Freddie says, and then his expression hardens. “But I swear to fucking God, Ivy, I’ll drown you if you put a toe out of line. Do you understand?”

“Got it,” I reply, feigning a sweet smile.

He unlocks one cuff, leaving the other dangling off my wrist. I could whirl it around like a flail and slam his head against the tub to knock him out, but I decide against it. Instead, I stick my toes under the running tap to warm them. It’s lukewarm, but after spending the night in a damp dungeon, it’s basically a jacuzzi. My limbs relax in the water, and I wait until the bubblescover my breasts before pulling off what’s left of my t-shirt and shuffling out of my skirt and dirty knickers.

Freddie leans against the wall, watching me. I pretend he’s not there, choosing to enjoy the experience instead. A dry bar of soap rests on the side of the tub, and I take my time to lather it up. I start with my feet, cleaning between my toes, then move further up my body, washing away the blood from my grazes and scrubbing off Callen’s dried cum from my inner thighs until they’re red.

I exhale deeply when Freddie barks, “You’re not in a spa. Two more minutes.”

“Is there any shampoo around?” I ask, fluttering my eyelashes.

He grumbles under his breath but reluctantly returns to the cupboard to look. He returns victorious, begrudgingly thrusting a bottle into my waiting hand. I flip the lid and am met with the sweet smell of honeysuckle. Torean’s a psychopath, but he has good taste in shampoo. I don’t push my luck and ask for conditioner, though.

I massage it into my roots, whipping up thick suds, and let out a small moan of pleasure. It’s amazing to scrub out the dirt, although I wish I could erase the last few weeks—or years—along with it.

When finished, I slide down into the bath, submerging my head underwater. I hold my breath for as long as I can. Under the surface, I could be anywhere in the world. I wonder whether Freddie will take his chance and hold me under—it’d be preferable to leaving me to die at Callen’s or, worse, Torean’s hands.

When I emerge, Freddie looms, casting a dark shadow over my peaceful paradise. Without me realising, the bubbles have dissipated, giving him the perfect view of my naked body. I tryto ignore how my tits are bobbing above the water and how my nipples have hardened into pink peaks.

He clears his throat and warns in a husky tone, “One more minute.”

I keep my thighs pressed tightly together and dunk myself under for the last time. When I come up for air with a gasp, I push my hair out of my face, tucking the loose strands behind my ears and try to channel my newfound optimism. I can do this. Whatever’s coming next, I can face it.

“Wrists,” he instructs.

I hold them out for him to re-secure my cuffs. He double-checks to make sure they’re correctly fastened.

“Scared I’ll break free?” I tease.

He ignores me and holds out a fresh towel. “Here.”

I rise while he does a great job keeping his eyes on my face.

“Thanks,” I say as he shoves the towel into my hands.

His gaze strays lower for the briefest moment, and he grimaces like he finds me repulsive before turning away. I hurry, wrapping the towel around myself as quickly as possible. His reaction shouldn’t bother me, but somehow, I can’t help feeling disappointed…

CHAPTER 15

FREDDIE

Water droplets glisten against her skin. I only catch a quick glimpse, and I can’t hide my disgust at seeing what they’ve done to her. Her beautiful body is broken, covered in bruises and scratches.

“You can lift me out now,” she mutters.

I approach the task like I’m hauling any other package. I throw her towel-wrapped body over my shoulder, willing myself not to get hard at knowing there’s only one thin layer separating us.

When she’s standing on the floor, I pull out the plug, remove her soaking clothes, and hang them on the icy radiator.

A white dressing gown hangs on a hook on the back of the bathroom door.

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