I follow him inside. The cabin seems to be a two bedroom. We walk directly into the lounge and dining area that has a small open plan kitchen. There’s a little hallway and on either side is a bedroom with a big double bed taking up most of the space. At the end of the hall is a shower and toilet.
The rain is still beating down hard on the roof of the little cabin.
“You need to change into dry clothes, don’t need you getting pneumonia on top of everything else. Have a shower and take this shirt. There’s a dryer for your clothes.” He throws me a shirt from his bag and I take his advice and head for a cold shower.
The heat is pulsing through me and although the shower helps, I’m still hot as hell. I slip on Nixon’s black shirt and thank the Fates that it’s long enough to cover everything that needs to be covered. I’m a bit uneasy with the fact that I won’t be wearing underwear or a bra until my clothes are dry, but the less clothes the better, it’s way too hot.
I walk out of the bathroom with my clothes in hand, heading for the dryer. I bend down and shove them inside. Looking at the buttons, I try to figure out which button to press, but Nixon’s hand goes past mine and he presses the right button for me.
I feel him behind me as I stand there.
I stand up full and he closes in on me. One hand goes under my shirt and rests on my hip, chills form down my spine as he uses his chin to move the hair away from my shoulder. He rests his other hand on the dryer then leans into me.
I’m not attracted to Nixon this way, but the only way I feel cooler is when my body is close to another’s.
I don’t want him this way, so why the hell am I leaning into his touch and shoving my body against his?
“You need to push me away,” he whispers against my ear.
“I know that’s what I need to do, but I can’t. My body is on fire when I’m not being touched,” I say breathlessly.
He growls in my ear, spins me around then picks me up. I stare into his lust filled eyes as he carries me to one of the rooms. He drops me onto the bed with him still on top of me. He takes my hands, holds them above my head on the pillows, and closes his eyes as he pushes his body against mine making us both moan out loud.
Bringing his face down to my neck, he runs his extended canines from my collar bone to beneath my ear. I’m trying hard to resist him, but my body has other ideas, the coolness he brings with his touch is too allaying. My legs wrap securely around his waist, forcing him tightly against my body. I feel his one hand leave mine, but his other hand quickly takes its place holding both of my hands in his one.
I hear something jingling.
Then the clank of metal.
But it’s too late.
He’s handcuffed me to the headboard.
Memories roll in and flashbacks cloud my vision as I thrash about on the bed.
Nixon moves off the bed. “I only have so much self-control, Angel. This is the only way. I need to be away from you. I’ll bring you something to eat a little later.” He doesn’t give me a chance to speak, just walks out of the room shutting the door. Leaving me alone with a little lamp on in the now darkened room.
I stretch my neck to look up at my wrists where the handcuffs are. They’re not as tight as the belt Drake used when he tied me to the bed that day, but the pink scars around my wrist are enough to freak me out and bring back all those terrible memories. I thrash and move about until I’m out of breath and have tears seeping out the corner of my eyes. I close my eyes exhausted, my temperature rising again.
I wake up sweating, my body is on fire and my throat is dry. My hands are no longer bound and there’s a sandwich sitting on the night stand. I scoff down the food and down the water. I walk to the door and pull. Nothing. I try again but the door won’t budge.
I pound my flat hands against the door making it rattle.
“I swear to God, Nixon. If you don’t unlock this door right now, I’ll bring all my inner fury down on this place. No more tree-house for you! I swear it!” I quickly hear the door being unlocked from the other side. He opens the door and looks almost as bad as I feel. I shove past him, slam the bathroom door closed and jump under another cold shower.
I find my clothes neatly folded on the sink when I get out of the shower. After dressing, I open the bathroom door to find Nixon standing there with his arms folded across his chest. I storm up to him and push him hard.
“Don’t ever cuff me to a bed again.” I push him once more, but before i can do it again he grabs my wrists. I try to wriggle away from him, but he holds me firmly whilst staring down at the scars Drake left around my wrists.
His apologetic eyes find mine. “Shit, Angel. I didn’t think. I’m so sorry,” he says, loosening his grip. I pull my hand free and shove his shoulder as I walk past.