14. Becca

14

BECCA

I van turned his head toward me. I couldn’t make out everything through the opaque shower stall, but I registered that he pivoted to notice my presence.

Second thoughts crashed through. I had no business being here, seeking him out.

Several minutes ago, I heard a slight noise that somehow yanked me straight out of sleep, and I gave up lying in the darkness of my own room. After I got a glass of water from the kitchen, I caught the faint sound of water running from elsewhere in this huge, quiet house. Meandering down the hall, I saw the light on from the crack beneath Ivan’s door.

Trespassing into his room seemed inappropriate. This urgency to tell him about Steven’s call propelled me in there, though, seeking him out no matter how late it was.

Finding him in the shower and lingering just outside it was wrong.

Yet, nothing could tear me away. I was rooted right here, unable to tear my lusty gaze from the outline of his big body under the water in there.

I swallowed, feeling my cheeks burn as I realized he was aware of my looking at him.

Like a goddamn creeper, a deer caught in the headlights, I stayed still and immobile, unsure what to do.

Should I say something? I wanted to tell him about that call, but like this? After following my stubborn curiosity to sneak in here and see if he was home?

Desire ruled my actions. That and a weird sense of missing him and wanting him despite being a hostage here.

Should I run? Turn tail and hide in my room until we could go back to that funky avoidance that he’d started when we first arrived at this house?

I bit my lip as he moved forward, shutting the water off.

“Becca?”

I cleared my throat, burning up with more of a blush that he was naked. Right there. And not shouting at me to leave him alone like this.

“Um.” I cleared my throat once more, trying to lose that croakiness of shame and feeling stuck. “Yeah.”

“What the hell are you doing?” He didn’t demand it like an order. I detected no trace of an accusation or insult in his tone, either. More than anything, he seemed confused and humored, curious.

What am I doing? Other than wishing I was in that shower stall and having you clean me with your tongue? Than imagining bending over so you can ? —

“Becca?”

I flinched, shaking my head. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

He reached for the door and shoved it open. “About what?”

“Earlier—” My voice died as he stepped out of the huge shower stall. Steam wisped out with his exit, curling around his magnificent yet battered body. I blinked, taking in the full frontal view of the most rugged body I’d ever seen. Scars and tattoos showed all over him, and something that looked like a branding mark near his pecs.

Oh, whoa.

I’d felt his body against mine that one time he fucked me hard and fast. But he was behind me then, depriving me of this view.

And I stared. I couldn’t look away, taking in all the details of him wet and bare. Water streaked down over the bulges and ridges of his muscles, heightening how fit and strong he was. From the dripping strands of his dark hair, all the way down to his feet. Every inch of him was on display, and my pussy reacted at once.

I tensed, feeling the instant clench of desire deep in my abdomen. I felt slick, throbbing as my pulse kicked faster and the blood drained south to the tender flesh where I missed him most.

He cleared his throat, fully aware that I was staring and taking my time with it. Even though he grabbed a towel and rubbed it over his head, he made no move to cover up at all.

“Sorry.” Not sorry. I lowered my gaze, staring at his toes instead. “I should…” I turned too quickly, stumbling against the towel rack anchored to the wall. “I, um…” I set my hand on the rod for hanging towels and tried to glance back at him.

My gaze fell right back on his huge dick, and I swore he thrust his hips out at me, enticing me to look my fill.

“I’m sorry.” I covered my face with one hand, hating this blush that burned hotter. “I had no business coming in here. I just wanted to speak with you and I thought you were here and?—”

“I am here.” Whisking sounds of friction followed his motions of drying off.

“Right. Yeah. You’re here.” I swallowed, tormented with the lure of looking up at his huge cock, then up the lines of his abs, over his pecs, then his neck and his smirking face.

Desire swirled within me as the steam from his shower dissipated. I fought not to want him. I resisted this stubborn lust he inspired in me. Hiding it was futile, and I settled on praying he wouldn’t notice. Or if he did, he wouldn’t tease me about it.

I wanted him so badly, even though I knew I shouldn’t be desiring someone like him. I was a hostage, a temporary fixture in his life until he found Steven and killed him. He wasn’t a man I could count on forever, but at this moment, heated up and so full of longing for that deep bliss he’d pushed me to, I wondered if it would be so bad to tell him this truth. That I wanted him to the point of pain.

“So…” He tossed his towel to the side of the room, not at all modest. Passing me, he brushed against my side as he picked up boxers and gray sweatpants on the vanity that he must have placed there before his shower.

He was a hard man, but also comfortable in his skin to be naked and open to showing me what I was missing out on.

He has to know. There was no chance he’d missed the latent desire in my gaze, and it convinced me that he had to be taunting me on purpose. Not reaching out to me but tormenting me with a visual of what I couldn’t have.

I came here with a clear mission. I had the goal of speaking as soon as possible, wanting to be completely upfront and honest with him. If I was amenable and cooperative, he had to value that more than when I was stubborn and fighting him. I didn’t want to just be an imprisoned hostage here, stuck with no options. Being idle didn’t suit me. If I could help, I would.

“I wanted?—”

Emily’s cries reached me. No matter how new this place was, I was attuned to my daughter. With a sigh, I headed out of his room and went to tend to her before she’d wake up Margie, too.

I hadn’t counted on Ivan to follow me. He did, quietly and patiently. Once I picked up a pouty and fussy Emily from the crib Ivan had provided her, he closed the door to her room behind him.

“Sorry.”

He huffed a laugh, watching me hold Emily and pace with her, bouncing in my step to calm her. Every time I extended my thumb, bracing my hand on her back, I felt the residual twinge of that cut on my skin from the broken glass. Then the dig of my necklace as Emily reached up and grabbed the thin length, tugging it down against my neck. One of these days, she’d be strong enough to snap it, and I didn’t have the money to buy a replacement for the chain. Taking it off wasn’t an option, though. I only had this to remember my grandma by.

Emily’s cry interrupted me from speaking. Being in her room helped to tame this lust I shouldn’t have had for Ivan, too.

“You don’t have to apologize for her. She’s only a baby.”

“A fussy baby.”

“Did Margie help?” he asked as he sat in the plush chair across from her crib.

“She did. Thank you.”

He dipped his chin in acknowledgment as he watched me.

“Not only did she help with Emily and gave me a chance to nap, but she also…” I walked toward him, reaching into the pocket of my thin robe for my phone. He accepted it, brows raised. “She also helped me record what I could of a call from Steven.”

I rattled off Emily’s birthdate, the passcode, and he tapped it in. “He called earlier, and I wanted to record it for you to listen to.”

Over and over, he played the video I’d hastily thought to record of the call on my phone. Margie texted me the video, and I was glad I had it available for Ivan to listen to. Each time I heard it start over, I cringed internally at the sound in Steven’s voice. Cruel. Calculating. Selfish. My anger boiled hot once more at the thought that my father would set up a thug to take Emily like that. To pose her any harm at all.

Ivan listened carefully, narrowing his eyes and not moving as he repeated the short exchange. I didn’t interrupt, settling Emily as she clung to my necklace and let me soothe her with walking back and forth.

He set my phone on the small table and regarded me. “What time did he call?”

“The time is in my call log. 4:54.”

“What did he say before you recorded?”

I licked my lips, thinking back. “More of the same. Wanting to know where I was. Where you were. I hurried to record it as soon as possible. The ringtone of his call woke me right out of a nap.”

He rubbed his chin, looking at the wall before sighing. “What was that about falling in love? What did he mean when he teased you about falling in love with ‘this man’ too?” Pointing at himself, he raised his brows. “Should I assume he meant me?”

I nodded, then rolled my eyes as another hit of a blush swept over my cheeks. “He said it to get a rise out of me. To taunt me. He always told me that I’d never find a man who would want me.”

He watched me closely, adding more suspense to this quiet. I was put on the spot and didn’t like it.

“He asked that of you because he seems to know I’m with you. That you captured me. And he thought it would be comical to compare that to the last time I was with a man he knew about—Dominic.”

“Has he always been that cruel?”

I nodded. “Cruel? Try evil.” Looking up at the ceiling to regain my composure, I turned to pace more for soothing Emily. “For as long as I can remember. No matter the evidence her case had, I am still convinced that he had my mother killed. That it wasn’t an accident and that he’d orchestrated it all. My mother was the daughter of his boss on the force, and he didn’t like him and how he tried to discipline him at work.”

“That’s a strong accusation.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, feeling this old comfort of anger. “It is. And I stand by it. I mean it when I say there is no lost love for him. He’s never cared about me. I’ve always been a burden on him, foisted off to neglectful babysitters and abusive teachers. Steven was never present, never there. And if he was, it was to belittle me or wonder how I could help him in a scam or stupid ploy to get money.”

Ivan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he peered up at me. “It sounds like you learned your independence early on.”

“Not by choice. And I did. I learned everything the hard way because I hated him trying to have any say in what I wanted to do or who I wanted to be friends with. He scared off my boyfriends and persuaded my employers to let him harass me on the clock.”

“Scared off your boyfriends?” he asked.

I nodded. “All three of them.”

He nodded, pensive for a moment. “What about Dom?”

My spirits sank at the mention of his name.