When they’d landed on that isolated air strip and then hiked through the fucking forest to get here, she’d honestly expected a cabin out of a horror movie. Something infested with spiders and mice and possessing an inch of grime on every surface. A building that was possibly even haunted, as all murder-cabins must be.
Then this place came into view, and she’d had to readjust her expectations. It was a cabin, sure, but a rich person’s cabin. It didn’t mean it wasn’t a murder-cabin, though. That lock that appeared to function for both interior and exterior meant only Dante could come and go as he pleased. He was capable of torture and murder; she didn’t doubt that for a second. That said, she highly doubted he planned either after everything he’d said and what just happened in the shower.
Focus on something else. Literally anything else.
This bathroom was easily larger than the one she had at home, and the tiled-in shower was… Well, best not to think too hard about it now. But the whole thing screamed forest-chic, with dark-green walls, exposed beams overhead in a vaulted ceiling, and the gray tiled floors and shower. The sink was all marble and more exposed beams. It was…nice. The kind of place where she could easily imagine escaping to for a weekend to get away from city life and her responsibilities for a bit.
If only she weren’t trapped here.
She moved past Dante and out of the bathroom. The bedroom was more of the same, luxury in a vaguely cabin sort of way. The bed itself looked like heaven, but she wasn’t ready to think about that yet.
Rose had been Dante’s captive for less than twenty-four hours and she’d already come all over his hand. She didn’t like her odds of spending the night in the same bed without riding his cock. Maybe the couch would be comfortable enough?
She had to do better than this. She’d already proven she couldn’t touch him, even in violence, without him taking it as an invitation to touch her right back. It would be simpler if he dealt pain, because then she could hate him. When he gave her pleasure instead, it got her wires all crossed.
Best to put as much distance between them as possible.
The living room was honestly really nice. Big picture windows overlooked the hill down into the trees, offering a view of the path Dante had carried her up earlier. The trees were too tall to see too far, so she couldn’t gauge their actual location. Not that she’d be able to determine much even if she could see for miles.
Rose wasn’t exactly an outside girl. She preferred the city to the country, and the last time she’d let Sasha and Anya convince her to travel to Colorado to go skiing, she’d nearly broken her body on the bunny hill. She’d spent the rest of the trip at the bar, falling deeply into lust with a beautiful blond named Natalie. It was time much better spent, in her opinion.
Rose leaned down and pressed a hand to the deep, overstuffed couch. It was plenty long enough for her to lay on and stretch out. It would hardly be termed roughing it by sleeping on the couch, even though she couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept somewhere that wasn’t a bed. Maybe Lorelei’s twenty-first birthday last year when they’d all drank too much tequila and ended up passing out in the bathroom while Lorelei puked her guts up. Sleeping in the tub had left a spasm in Rose’s neck for a week. The couch had to be better than that. Hopefully.
She glanced at the windows. Once darkness fell, anyone outside might as well have a spotlight on her in the living room. And it would be dark, not like night in New York, where there were always lights, sounds, people moving about, no matter the hour. She shivered. She really should have reconsidered all those horror movie marathons with Anya and Lorelei.
“Rosa.”
She didn’t jump, but it was a near thing. When she got back home, she was definitely avoiding the scary movies. She dragged in a deep breath and turned to face her captor. “For the last time, that’s not my name.”
The man had no right to look so good. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, showing off his strong, lean body. He hadn’t even dried himself properly, and she couldn’t help watching a drip of water slide down the center of his chest between his pecs, down…down…down….
Rose jerked her gaze to his face. There was no relief for her there, though. Common consensus seemed to be that when people shaved off their beards, they lost a large percentage of their attractiveness. The same could not be said for Dante. Without his beard to soften his features, there was no hiding the perfection of his face. Someone looking at him from a distance might think he was too pretty, but the aura of danger that coated him like a second skin turned that pretty into a weapon to be used against the unsuspecting.