Chapter 46
Bryn
Sprawling out on the massage bed, I use a towel as a pillow and close my eyes.
A client canceled last minute and I, exhausted after two nights of wonderful, exquisite sex, told Celeste I was lying down for forty-five minutes.
During my last session, I could barely keep my eyes open, and considering I need to use physical strength to work, I have to conserve what I have left.
Cracking one eye, I glance at my phone sitting beside my head. The urge to text Wyatt and tell him I’m thinking of him is making my fingers crawl along the bed to the device. It’s not too soon to do that, right? Six hours apart has to be more than enough.
I pause. Maybe it is too soon. Plus, we don’t text. Unless it’s memes or funny jokes. Does that change now that we’re together?
Maybe just a funny video. That feels safe. I can find one of those.
I’m scrolling through socials when one of his pops up. Jenga at the firehouse with him and Liam sitting across from each other. The blocks are high, looking to fall at any moment, and Wyatt is skillfully sliding one out. I admit, he’s good with his fingers.
Heat pools in my tummy at the thought. Of his fingers caressing me, sliding over my stomach, across my hips, down my thighs.
The door to the room opens, and I suck in a breath, glancing over my shoulder at the sudden intrusion.
“Celeste, I told you I…”
The rest of the words fade when I realize it’s not Celeste.
The door shuts before I can see who it is, throwing the room into only soft, dim lighting.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up.
Whoever it is storms the length of the bed as I turn over, scrambling to get up on the opposite side, but they’re faster and I’m disoriented.
A hand covers my mouth just as I let a scream rip from my lungs.
The shriek for help becomes a muffled cry that falls on only mine and my assailant’s ears.
An arm locks around my neck, my blood turning to ice in my veins as my fight or flight response kicks in.
I choose fight. Clawing at the arm around my neck, flailing my body like a bucking horse, and kicking their shin with my heel.
My assailant slams me face first against the wall, crushing me between it and their body. The wind whooshes from my lungs. My ears pop. The combination of sensations has me losing my fight, blinking against a wave of dizziness as I try to suck air into my aching chest.
“Sleep,” a male voice says, his breath blowing the hair beside my ear.
The arm around my neck starts to tighten, my eyes bulging as I realize what the word means. No. No, no, no. The fight comes back into me, a surge of renewed adrenaline flooding my system as I give it every ounce of energy I have left to struggle against him.
It’s no use. He’s bigger. Stronger. And I’m pinned.
But I don’t stop. I won’t.
Not until the world goes black.