He has to be okay.
He just has to be.
Once I am changed he ushers me to a chair and forces me to sit. Looking around and taking in my surroundings I don’t see anything I can use as a weapon. Bastard probably planned it this way.
I watch with curiosity as he moves about the room pouring stuff in the tub. He keeps looking over his shoulder to make sure I am still in my seat. At least he hasn’t tied me up or tried anything yet.
The tub is filled with what appears to be powdered milk, water, and flower petals. This is fucking weird as hell, but I am too scared of what will happen if I don’t do as he says. He may use my body, but he will never have me. This man will never own me in any way that matters.
Disrobing, the pink silky fabric falls to a puddle behind me. I step into the tub and slowly slink down as he watches with an intense expression on his face.
Once I am fully submerged in the liquid he circles the tub, squirting honey in various places.
I don’t dare ask him what in the hell he is doing. I don’t believe I want to know. I feel like I am the lead role in some freaky horror film. Like he is seasoning my skin to eat me or something.
He hands me a loofah and commands me to wash.
Doing as I am told, I run the rigid rough material over my arms and along my collarbone.
“I’ll do your back, my pet.” His calling me pet has bile creeping up my throat.
“I used to help Momma with her baths. She loved when I’d wash her back.”
I cringe at his overshare.
I don’t want to know what else his Momma loves him to do.
Chapter Eighteen
—Reaper—
Sunlight shines down on me as I come to, rubbing at my temples. My head fucking hurts. Everything is a blurred haze. I groan as my head continues to pulse and pound. Sitting up, I feel nauseous and it is about two point five seconds before I am leaning over the side of the truck and vomiting.
Fuck.
I look around trying to remember where in the hell I am.
Rubbing my eyes with my palms, I try to focus.
Why are my pants down? I must have gotten drunk as hell last night.
Goddamn that sun is bright. Sweat beads across my brow and down my back. Climbing down from the back of my truck, I stumble around the campsite.
Opening the tent, the smell of rotten eggs smacks me in the face. A pair of yellow high heels laying off to the side clears the fog from my brain. Harley. Her smile flashes through my head and my chest constricts. The events of last night come rushing back at once.
Her getting sprayed by the skunk.
Bathing her in tomato paste.
Her Smile.
The way it felt to kiss her.
How good it felt to hear her moan my name.
The way it felt when I sank deep inside her.
Then the intruder and everything going black.