Chapter 14
Sierra
The second we step inside, the warmth of the house hits me, sharp against my skin that still feels cold from outside. I kick the door shut behind us and slip out of my heels with a quiet groan, leaving them by the entrance before turning to look at Cain.
“Make yourself at home,” I tell him, brushing tangled hair off my shoulder.
My body aches in places I don’t want to think about, and every step makes me more aware of the dirt drying on my skin.
I stop at the foot of the stairs and glance back at him.
“I’m going to take a shower before I start smelling like roadkill,” I say, already placing one hand on the banister. “Try not to miss me too much.”
Without waiting for a reply, I start up the stairs, forcing myself to move normally, even though every step reminds me how wrecked I feel.
I almost got fucked by two strangers in the middle of nowhere less than two hours ago, and now I’m walking through my own house with another man behind me like this is perfectly normal.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Am I really that desperate?
Every step reminds me of what the one with the white helmet did to me.
The ache between my legs is brutal, sharp and relentless, making me feel like I just gave birth to a baby rhino.
And somehow, despite how twisted tonight was, I already know I probably won’t say no to Cain if he tries anything.
I’ve wanted him for longer than I care to admit.
There’s no chance I’m telling him what happened out there, either.
What would he think of me? Worse—what if he decides to play hero and call the police?
If that photo lands in the wrong hands, my father will lose his mind, lose clients, maybe lose face in front of every person whose opinion he values more than mine.
I’ll be the disgraceful daughter who embarrassed the family, and depending on how angry he feels, I could end up with nothing.
No money.
No safety net.
No place in the life I’m supposed to inherit.
Absolutely not.
No one needs to know.
I just need this night buried, forgotten, erased like it never happened, and I can only hope whatever happened out there was enough to satisfy those two psychos so they leave me alone for good.
By the time I step into the bathroom and lock the door behind me, the silence feels almost unreal after everything that happened tonight. I strip out of the dress and let it fall at my feet before looking up at the mirror.
For a moment, I just stand there, taking myself in. My hair is a mess, tangled and full of dried dirt. Thin scratches run over my legs, my hips and my arms. Faint bruises are already starting to show, scattered across my skin like proof of something I still haven’t decided how to feel about.
I lean closer, touching one mark near my collarbone, then another higher on my thigh, my fingers tracing each one as if they might explain something.
I should be terrified. Part of me is. But another part of me can’t stop replaying it.
The voices. The helmets. The way they treated me—like I was prey, then like I was something precious.
My stomach tightens. I don’t know if it’s fear… or curiosity. Whatever it is, it scares me more than they did.
I let the warm water run over me, watching the brown swirl of dirt disappear beneath my feet. My skin is clean now, scented with lavender, and all I want is to crawl into bed and pretend tonight never happened.
“Sierra? You alive in there?” His voice drags me back to reality so fast it almost hurts.
Fuck.
I forgot about Cain.
Why the hell is he in my house?
Because I invited him.
Idiot.
“Coming in a minute!” I call out loudly, making sure my voice carries through the door.
I turn off the shower and dry myself fast before pulling on a fitted tank top and tiny sleep shorts that leave most of my legs exposed. The kind of outfit meant to look accidental when it absolutely isn’t. And if Cain notices something tonight, I’d rather it not be the bruises.
By the time I head downstairs, the house has gone strangely quiet.
“Cain?” I call, stepping into the living room.
No answer.
Then I see his clothes scattered across my couch—shirt tossed over the armrest, jeans crumpled on the cushions, boots kicked off near the coffee table like he’s lived here for years.
The confidence on this man should honestly be studied.
The silence is broken by a splash from deeper inside the house.
Of course.
I follow the sound toward the indoor pool and push through the glass doors. Warm, humid air closes around me instantly, carrying the sharp, clean scent of chlorine. Light from the water shivers across the walls, painting everything in restless silver.
Cain is in the middle of the pool, moving lazily through the blue glow like he belongs there.
When he notices me, he slows before making his way toward the shallow end until the rippling surface settles at his waist. He stops there, one hand dragging his dark, wet hair back from his forehead as his eyes lift to mine.
Fucking hell!
No man should be allowed to look like this.
I rest one shoulder against the doorframe, letting my eyes wander over every wet inch of him.
“So you really took make yourself at home seriously.” A quiet laugh slips out.
“You brought a swim instructor into a house with an indoor pool. You really set me up for this.” Amusement glints in his eyes before that dangerous smile follows.
“Don’t give me credit for your shameless behavior.” I laugh softly.
He moves a little closer, water shifting around his waist. “Shameless?”
“Completely.”
“That hurts.” He places a hand over his chest like I’ve wounded him. “Here I was, thinking you’d be impressed.”
“I am impressed.” I take him in slowly before meeting his eyes again. “Mostly by the ego.”
“Come in the water, Sierra,” he says softly, extending a hand toward me.
“Is that an invitation or a command?” I challenge, tilting my head.
“Depends.” His mouth curves faintly. “Which one works better on you?”
I cross my arms, pretending to think about it. “Neither, usually.”
“Usually?”
He takes another step until he’s at the edge now, close enough that if I reached down, I could touch him.
“That sounds promising,” I say, dryly. “It sounds like you’re getting confident.”
“No.” His eyes hold mine. “It sounds like you’re curious.”
I hate how quickly that lands.
He keeps his hand extended toward me, palm open, water dripping down his arm. “Come in,” he murmurs, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
“I just showered.” I glance toward the pool.
“Then I’ll try not to ruin all your hard work.” The grin he gives me promises the exact opposite.
“Try?” I scoff quietly.
“I’m being polite,” he deadpans, like that should impress me.
“Then stop,” I scoff. “I’m not getting in.”
I barely finish the sentence before he plants both hands on the edge of the pool and hauls himself out in one smooth motion. Water runs down every inch of him, dripping onto the tiles as he starts toward me.
My pulse stutters.
“Cain…”
“Too late.”
I back up one step, laughing now, but there’s no real escape in it.
“Don’t you dare.” I warn, pointing a finger at him.
“That doesn’t sound like a no.”
“It sounds exactly like a no.”
He reaches me anyway. One arm slides behind my knees, the other around my waist, and suddenly I’m off the ground with a sharp gasp.
“Cain!”
I grab his shoulders on instinct as he turns back toward the pool like carrying me is effortless.
“You’re insane!”
“You like me.”
“I like very few things right now!”
He grins, water still dripping from his jaw. “Liar.”
“Put me down!”
“Already working on it.”
Then he jumps. The cold shock of the water hits first, stealing the scream from my lungs. We crash beneath the surface together, bubbles and limbs and chaos everywhere.
“You fricking psychopath!”
His laugh echoes across the room, low and victorious, as he catches me by the waist before I can swim away.
“Look at that,” he murmurs, pulling me closer, amusement warming his voice. “You got in after all.”
“Against my will,” I snap, trying—and failing—to twist free from his grip. My glare only makes him smile wider.
“Your performance is very convincing.”
“It should be. I’m naturally gifted.” I lift my chin, pretending his hands on my waist aren’t affecting me at all.
A laugh rumbles out of him, low and rich, as he tightens his hold like he knows exactly how much it irritates me. “You’re definitely something.”
“I’m seconds away from drowning you.” I jab a finger against his chest.
“You’d miss me too much.” His grin turns lazy, infuriating.
I roll my eyes and shove at him again. He barely shifts.
Ridiculous man.
“Do you flirt with every woman by kidnapping her into pools?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“Only the difficult ones.” He says it easily, but the way he looks at me feels anything but casual.
“And how lucky for you that I’m impossible.”
“I noticed,” he adds, his smile tilting into a cocky grin that makes me want to slap him.
For one stupid second, I forget everything else. The forest. The helmets. The bruises hidden under my clothes. The ache I still don’t know how to name.
Then a violent crash explodes somewhere above us.
The sound tears through the house so hard I flinch against him. My fingers clutch his shoulders on instinct.
“What the hell was that?” I breathe.
Another bang follows, heavier this time, like something large being thrown across the floor. Cain goes completely still. Every trace of teasing disappears from his face as he looks toward the ceiling.
Suddenly every light in the house dies. Darkness crashes down around us. The pool room is swallowed whole, broken only by thin strips of moonlight through the glass.
My pulse turns savage.
No.
No, no, no.
Don’t tell me they came back.
Fear spreads through me, colder than the water.
Cain’s hand finds my waist again, firmer now, steadying me as much as shielding me.
“Sierra,” he says quietly, his voice hard and sharp now. “Stay behind me.”