Page 20 of Unlock My Heart

Chapter Six

Fabien

Twenty-one-years-old

“Put me down,” Sienna protests, but I refuse to let her out of my arms until we’re inside the bathroom of my apartment. Turning on the shower, I place her on her feet and remove my jacket from her shoulders.

She silently watches as I help her out of what’s left of her dress. Her hourglass frame is spattered in blood, but no matter: She’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. My eyes coast from the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen to lower, and fuuuuuuck, the curtains do match the drapes.

It takes all my self-control to keep my promise. And I don’t have much self-control to begin with. Sienna will be mine, but I want it to be her decision.

Her body trembles, but not from my gaze. As suspected, she’s feeling the delayed response to what happened tonight. I squat down, unlacing her left boot, and then her right. Peeling her socks off, I rise and lead her into the shower.

Her shakes become more violent, and I step out of my shoes and climb in with her, still otherwise dressed. Taking a seat on the bench, I pull her into my lap and wrap my arms around her as she cries.

“It’s alright,” I murmur against her hair. “You’re safe with me.”

Sienna

Eighteen-years-old

Somehow, I’ve found myself naked, sitting on the lap of a fully dressed mobster in his shower. Tears morph into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. “Why am I laughing?” I sputter between sobs.

“Delayed trauma response. Either that, or you’re trying to give a man a complex,” Fabien jokes.

Considering I’m seated on what feels like a huge erection, I doubt that’s possible. But it does remind me of why I’m here. “Do you want your money back? I wouldn’t blame you,” I tell him quietly, trying to get my emotions in check.

“Of course not,” he assures me with a gentle squeeze. “Besides, I wasn’t planning on fucking you during our time.”

My head tilts up to meet his gaze. “Why not?”

Fabien’s lips quirk, but he doesn’t answer as he reaches for the shampoo bottle. How am I just noticing that he has the most masculine-looking hands I’ve ever seen? Big and veiny, and here I go again, my body tingling in places I didn’t know could tingle.

He squeezes a dollop of shampoo in his palm and rubs his hands together, moving them to my scalp.

Make that whole body tingles.

His touch is soft, the gesture intimate. And beyond confusing; he just said we weren’t going to have sex. But all thoughts flitter out of my head when Fabien brings the spray to my hair, rinsing out the suds.

My body feels like a live wire as the man silently washes me from head to toe, and I’m a little sad that it’s over when he turns off the spray.

Ushering me out of the shower, he wraps me in a fluffy towel as water drips everywhere from his soaked suit. “Feeling better?” Fabien asks gently.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “I don’t know how to feel about any of this. Other than I should be scared of you.” Daring a peek beneath my wet lashes, I meet Fabien’s unwavering gaze. “Why am I not scared of you?” The man shot three women point-blank without a second thought. Shouldn’t I be having at least a second thought?

A lazy grin stretches across his face—like he knows something that I don’t—as he gently squeezes out my hair with another towel. “Why don’t you grab some clothes from my closet, and I’ll join you in the living room after I wash up.”

“What if I freak out and leave?” I grip the towel tightly; silly, considering he’s already seen everything. But my body decides now is the perfect time to become self-conscious of that fact; every square inch of my skin flushes.

His big hand cups my heated right cheek, and I find myself leaning into his touch. “You’ve already freaked out, and you’re not leaving. You want to see how this plays out as much as I do. Now go get dressed.”

“Bossy,” I inform him.

“Guilty.” With a grin, he drops his hand and begins working the knot in his drenched tie. The silk splats to the floor as his fingers begin moving the buttons through the holes of his dress shirt. “Unless you’d rather stay and watch. Not that I blame you,” he says with laughter in his voice.

“Conceited.” My cheeks flame as I spin on my heel and march out.

“Guilty again,” he calls after me.