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Her tiny squeak of surprise urged his cock to thicken.
Instead of kissing her, he backed off. She was hiding something from him, and for now, that secret would remain hers. One way or the other, he would find out what was troubling her, but this wasn’t the time to dig into what hurt.
Being in the cabin with him was a big step. He couldn’t begin to guess the pressure she must feel, not only being in a strange place, but being dumped there with a man. At this point, he didn’t think it mattered if it was him or another guy—her personal space had been invaded.
She’d taken the plunge by giving him her trust. Submission didn’t factor into the equation, not yet. There was a lot more work to do before she allowed him access to her most guarded places—head, heart, and soul—but at least they had the beginnings of a solid foundation. Submission required a piece of each to forge the strongest bond.
It was the biggest reward a Dominant could ask for, the most precious gift. Only an ungrateful fool or a callous bastard refused or abused something so beautiful when it was offered.
Saul damn well intended to earn the reward if and when she gave it, no matter how long it took or how many bridges he needed to cross to make it happen.
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Chapter Four
Hot water sluiced over her head, slicking back her hair for the second time that day.
After Saul threatened to kiss her, the shower seemed to be the safest place to get herself gathered back into one piece. He’d scattered every single coherent thought in her head to the wind, and she wasn’t sure she’d manage to get them all together again.
He might take it upon himself to show you how wrong you are.
Possibly the scariest thing ever said to her—that she could remember—and yet…Caera discovered she didn’t mind the idea of kissing the guy who had nudged her into the shower without another word, and left her to regain her sensibilities.
Did that make her a slut, wanting to kiss someone she barely knew?
No. No, she was supposed to be staying away from thinking derogatory things about herself, because that—in Connie’s great wisdom—led to nothing but misery. Maybe she was right, but that didn’t mean that Caera’s attraction to the stranger didn’t make her feel…wanton.
It was hard to deny, and even harder to understand, what Saul stirred inside her. She wasn’t the kind of woman who became aroused by a man’s voice, who got wet between the legs at a touch. She didn’t know how to be a sexual creature, in tune with her natural desires. She’d never wanted to be, until now.
Saul made her wish she could be attractive and normal, flirty and appealing.
A woman he felt a physical pull for, rather than pity toward because she was broken.
Of course, it didn’t make Caera’s discomfort any less knowing that Connie had arranged for Saul to be here, with the intention of…encouraging intimacy. Being someone’s pity fuck was simply humiliating.
But as she washed a nightmare’s worth of sweat from her skin, running a soapy sponge over herself, Caera tried to imagine what it would be like if the sponge was something else. Something…masculine.
Like…a hand. Maybe two.
Revulsion shuddered through her, smacking that notion aside. No touching allowed. Even if her oversensitive skin permitted it, the illogical fear buried deeply inside her stupid brain wouldn’t.
Caera rinsed herself clean and switched off the water, twisting her hair to squeeze the worst of the wet from it. Blowing out a dejected breath, she stepped from the shower and reached for a towel, wrapping it around her body as tightly as she could.
Apparently, body and mind were content to be at war over her nonexistent sexual awakening, leaving her torn between pursuing it or burying it in an unmarked grave.
It didn’t matter anyway. Saul was only here because his friends pushed him into it without his knowledge, same as her. He wouldn’t have sex with a complete wreck just because Connie asked him to, so the point was moot, and Caera was just winding herself up into a stressful breakdown for absolutely no reason.
That really didn’t make her feel better.
Sighing, she wandered back into the bedroom to get dressed so she could slip out onto the porch and wait for him to fall asleep. She couldn’t risk getting into bed and losing herself for the second time in one night–she just wasn’t strong enough to handle multiple nightmares.
Been there, done that, suffered the excruciating consequences.
She jerked to a stop, clutching the towel closer when she saw the man dominating her thoughts sprawled on the bed, his hands tucked beneath his head. Sockless, shirtless, his jeans unbuttoned for comfort, he raised his eyebrow at her as she froze in the doorway.
“That was an intriguing conversation you were having with yourself,” he said casually, idly dropping a hand to his bare stomach and scratching the distinctive muscles. “Did you put the world to rights, little rabbit?”
She’d been talking to herself? Oh shit.
