Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
Zephyrine
The words “Yes, please,” nearly leave my lips before I can stop them.
This man is temptation incarnate. As much as I don’t trust him, he’s hard not to like, and even harder not to find attractive.
I feel a lot less guilty admitting that to myself now than I did when I thought he was a priest. It was bad enough that I was betraying my conscience, but it was worse if I made him betray his vows in the process.
Now that I know he’s some sort of unhinged vigilante cowboy?
The guilt is fading, and the curiosity I’ve been trying to quell is rising.
I can’t give in to my thoughts though. I might be thousands of miles away from the convent, but it doesn’t change the fact that I plan to take my final vows as soon as I can find a way to obtain the annulment from my husband.
I want to be back at the abbey, safe with my friends and far out of sight for anyone who wants to use me as a means to their end.
Even if some of them are funny and kind of sweet in an offbeat sort of way.
I’ll never be able to return home if I betray my promises to the nuns and myself.
Running away from my marriage to hide was a thing the other sisters understood.
This? Whatever this is with Levi, I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t be so forgiving.
“I’ve got it,” I insist, knowing full well I don’t. But my hand goes to the buttons on my shirt anyway, trying to work down them one-handed.
He turns his back, giving me privacy without me having to ask for it. At least I’m allowed to have a little dignity in this cage. I could appreciate that.
“You can hand me your clothes when you’ve got them off.” He holds his hand out behind his back, and I rush to go faster.
I don’t want to keep him waiting, and I don’t know what he’ll do if I can’t get them off on my own. I doubt he’ll unlock me from the pipe, and I’m not sure I can take him cutting my clothes off in what’s starting to become a humiliating ritual.
“This would go faster if I wasn’t chained to the pipe,” I mumble as I continue to struggle with the second button, bending over to try to make use of the chained hand.
“I can close my eyes, and you can take them off while chained to the pipe, or I can unchain you and watch you get undressed. I assumed you'd prefer the former, but we can make the latter happen if you want.” He gives me my options matter-of-factly.
“No, thank you,” I answer him primly.
The thought of him seeing me naked has the flush on my cheeks chasing its way down my neck and chest. I’m disgustingly filthy and sweaty just like he said. I feel like a gremlin. I wouldn’t want a nurse to see me in this condition, let alone this man.
But what I want and what I’m capable of aren’t aligning because, despite moving into contortionist-like positions, trying to get out of my clothes, I’m making very little progress. I let out a frustrated sigh, and he tilts his head to the side.
“Problem?”
“What if I promise not to run?” I plead for reason.
“There's no way I’d trust you after today. I don’t have it in me to chase you again.”
“Well, I don’t have the energy to run either. Not on this ankle,” I huff out in reply. It’s true even if he doesn’t want to believe me.
“Sorry. No deal.” He turns around and surveys my still-dressed state. “What if I close my eyes and help you?”
“I’m supposed to trust you not to look?”
His brow quirks up for a moment, and then he runs his hands under his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose with his forefingers before he takes them off and sets them on the ledge next to a couple of bottles of soap.
“There,” he announces. “Now you’re a blurry mess to begin with, so even if I look, there’s not much I can see.”
I'll have to take his word on that, but I watch as he closes his eyes slowly.
“I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to. I wouldn’t hurt you on purpose. I meant what I said. I want us to be able to trust each other. Let me help?” His tone is soft.
“Yes.”
He holds out his hand so I can guide it to my buttons, and he slowly feels his way around the first one, the pad of his finger rimming the edge of the button while the other hand feels for the edge of the fabric.
He makes easy work of the first and even faster work of the second.
I use the time to study him up close without fear of his seeing where my eyes pause or for how long.
He’s gorgeous. Priest or no. Prominent cheekbones and a chiseled jaw. A perfect nose. His lips were just as beautiful as the rest of his features, soft and full. The thought takes me back to the memory of them pressed against my own.
At least until I bit him. I smile to myself. I wonder how long he might have kissed me for if I hadn’t ended it so abruptly. If his tongue would have teased over mine. If he would have taken the kiss deeper. It’s been so long since I’ve been kissed by someone who wasn’t using it as a punishment.
I slip the blouse off one shoulder and then let it hang off the second, sliding it down my arm until it reaches the pipe, where it hangs from the cuff.
A shiver runs down my spine as the cool night air hits my skin, and I feel his palm make its way back up my shoulder to my bra strap.
He follows it down my back and slows when he hits the band.
He’s so close I can feel every breath on my neck and shoulders as he works, and still, he presses in closer, reaching his arm around the back of me to feel for the hooks.
He pulls at them gently, loosening every hook from its eye and making the bra go slack around my ribs.
His fingers trail back up the bra strap to my shoulder, hovering there for a moment like he’s considering his options before he slips it off my shoulder, and I let it fall down my arm, chasing the blouse to its spot on the cuff.
Another shiver runs through me, this time more at the vulnerable state I’m in and his proximity than anything to do with the temperature. My nipples harden, and goose bumps break out across my skin. Every unholy thought I’ve ever had about him is racing through my mind.
He’s already on to the next task, though, unaware of the way I’m reacting to him because he’s keeping his promise to keep his eyes closed.
Not even saying a word to taunt me or tease me about the situation.
His hands brush over my waist and start to move down, taking my skirt with him in one swift motion.
He tosses it in a pile. His hands are back at my waist before I realize we’re on the last bit of clothing.
One I could easily get off myself, one-handed, with a little effort and balance involved.
“I can get that.” I can hear how unnerved he makes me in my own voice. He must, too, because he grins.
“Gonna let me do all the hard work and not get the reward?”
My stomach tumbles as his hands smooth over my hips and hook into my underwear. But he pauses there.
“You can’t say stuff like that to me.” I’m trying to be good.
“Why, because you’re not a nun?” His lips curl with amusement even as his eyes stay closed.
“I will be, but I’m married now.”
“I think you’d better remind yourself of that because…” He brushes his fingertips over my skin, just above the waistband of my panties on the inside of my hip. “I can feel your heartbeat. Your breathing too. They’re giving you away.”
“You’re mistaking nerves for interest.” I hit back quickly.
“Is that what it is?” His thumb strokes over my skin, and I close my eyes, letting myself enjoy the soft touch I've imagined a million times at night the last few weeks.
“Yes. I don’t even… You know. Think like that anymore,” I lie. If he knew the truth, more than the little I confessed, I’d be doomed.
Something flickers over his face, and then it fades into a smirk.
It’s the most wicked smile, even with his eyes closed, maybe more so for it.
The hesitation he had is gone, and he pulls on my panties, dragging them down my thighs and over my calves, barely waiting for me to step out of them before he pulls them completely off.
He tucks them into his back pocket instead of setting them with the rest of my clothes.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking them.” He takes a step back just as I lunge for them.
“For what?”
“Payment for lying again.” He leans in and turns the water higher, the press of his body closer to mine, forcing me to take a step back this time.
“What are you going to do with them?” I call after him as he walks away.
“I have a few ideas.” He snatches his glasses off the ledge and puts them back on while still keeping his body and eyes turned away from me. “You better start showering. I need one too before that hot water runs out.”
I pull my jaw off the floor and turn to look for soap, finding a small bar sitting near the handle of the faucet. He was right. I needed to hurry up. Focus on the task at hand. That would get my mind off the fact that I’m standing stark naked just a few feet away from him.
I glance around and notice that there’s a small alcove with towels and bathrobes.
I tilt my head as I start to soap up. It was odd, along with the tiny but high-end kitchen and the fancy bed and other furnishings inside.
I know I've been out of Colorado for a long time, but I can’t remember rustic cabins belonging to lone men like him being quite this well-equipped. Something is off.
“Why does this place have all this stuff? The robes and outdoor shower? I thought this was your cabin?” I ask as I lather up my hair. The soap smells fresh and crisp like apples, and I notice the words Purgatory Falls Inn are imprinted on the surface as I run it down over my body.