Chapter 19 #2
Curse words of epic proportion slipped past my lips as I threw open the shower curtain, grateful to find two different bottles of shower gel, both in feminine fragrances.
I hoped Saint hated strawberries because I was going to slather my body with the scent.
There were also shampoos and conditioner bottles as well. Thank God for small favors.
At least I wouldn’t smell like a beer can all night long. Maybe things were looking up. The Masters family had even installed a Waterpik. Maybe Saint was right about something after all. A nice massage was in order, but not by his muscular hands and long fingers. I had to draw the line somewhere.
Thank God for large purses. I dug through my bag searching for the sample-sized toothpaste and toothbrush I always carried.
Just in case. I could never know when the need would arise, and I required fresh, minty breath.
I furiously brushed my teeth, taking out my aggression on the poor, defenseless plastic. At least doing so made me feel better.
After shoving the kit back into my purse, I allowed my curiosity to get the better of me. I just had to look at the screen on my phone. Didn’t I? There were dozens of notifications. I continued scrolling down, down, and down.
And down.
They kept coming. Blip after blip. I tried to read them, but they were flying in too fast. I chewed on my bottom lip, cringing deep inside as I unlocked my passcode, smashing my finger on the Instagram icon. Saint’s page pulled up immediately.
As soon as I clicked on the notifications, my stomach did flipflops.
The first one was a photograph he’d been tagged in.
The picture itself wasn’t bad, at least not really.
It was beautifully shot by a professional camera with a zoom lens.
The photographer had caught the very moment when Saint had exclaimed I was his fiancée.
His face was serene, incredibly handsome, and as if he was the happiest man in the world.
Mine?
Well, let’s just say it appeared I was thinking about spending hours in my gynecologist’s office with my feet in stirrups with the door left standing wide open on a busy day. The optics were horrifying.
Even worse?
There were over two million likes and at least seventeen thousand comments. Seventeen thousand. There was no chance in hell I could sell this as anything but what it was.
A fake relationship meant for propaganda.
My stomach lurched and I was fearful all the prayers in the world wouldn’t keep me from retasting the nasty hotdog over and over again.
The fight videos didn’t have nearly the social media presence. Something to be thankful for?
No. I could turn it off. I had the self-control. I was a big girl and a professional. This was a simple blip, a challenge that could easily be overcome. Somehow. Someway.
Maybe it would take hell freezing over, but I was tenacious. Thankfully, I managed to toss my phone into the bottom of my bag before succumbing to another glimpse of the nightmare that was my life.
With my teeth clenched, I stripped off my clothes, tossing everything into a pile in the corner.
Maybe I should be grateful the jersey his mother had provided was so large.
I certainly had no intention of sliding back into my thong.
The reason why was personal. Very personal.
And had everything to do with Saint and his gorgeous smile and glistening eyes.
Even the dimples on his cheeks were to blame.
How was it possible I was aroused by thinking about him when he thoroughly enjoyed pressing every button with me? The man became even more infuriating the longer I was forced to be around him.
With the water at the perfect temperature, I stepped inside, immediately easing under the showerhead.
I closed my eyes, allowing the gentle pulse of the ripple against my skin.
Soon afterwards, some of the massive tension began to ease, the ache in my muscles fading.
Maybe I could just stay in here all night long.
No. Then I’d still be forced to face him in the morning.
With my skin nice and toasty, I grabbed the shampoo and took my time lathering my scalp. The tingling sensations were incredible. I closed my eyes, enjoying the private moment, finally allowed the woes of the day to fade away.
Tomorrow was a new day and I planned on having a brand new attitude.
I lathered every inch of skin, taking careful breaths so I wouldn’t fall into feeling the same anxiety that had plagued me for days.
I could only imagine how hard Damien was laughing at me.
Oh, God. Damien. He could make waves just like that and the man was spiteful as hell.
He’d stop at nothing to get the last digs in.
Forget about staying calm. I’d managed to get in so far over my head I was about ready to drown in everything from self-pity to a realization I wasn’t cut out to be in the public eye. Not this girl.
With the joy of the shower quickly fading, I scrubbed my arms with my fingers and made a hurried attempt to remove the soap, which only caused shampoo to slip into my eyes. The burn was instant.
At the same time, it would seem karma was angry with me.
Perhaps this was all about shoving Damien’s face into his sickeningly sweet tiramisu or maybe because I’d agreed to a ridiculous charade with the world’s hottest bachelor.
Whatever the cause, it ceased to matter the moment two things occurred at the same time.
Something dropped onto my shoulder, immediately beginning a long, slow crawl toward my neck and suddenly, the water was cold. Not just fading to warm or tepid, but ice freaking cold.
There was nothing I could do, no reaction that could satisfy the rage and sudden fear.
So I threw back my head and screamed as I struggled to wipe the soap from my eyes.
The reaction was instant, another rush of cold air as the shower curtain was ripped aside a split second later.
Panting, I blinked furiously, trying to articulate there was some horrible creature crawling on me.
Instead, the moment I was able to focus even through the burn, our eyes met and locked.
The Savage stood in all his six-foot-six glory with messy hair and a shimmer in his eyes that created an iridescent glow.
He’d ripped off his shirt, exposing his eight-pack abs and the way his chest rose and fell accentuated his broad shoulders and the deep V that created one too many fantasies.
The carnal urges rushing through me were only matched by the wild thrumming of heat twisting between my legs.
Within seconds, my core was on fire, my pussy clenching and releasing as desire tore through me.
I wasn’t supposed to be attracted to my client and certainly not a man like Saint.
Yet here I was close to panting from a longing that seemed out of control.
Blinking, I tried to recoil the yearning, furious with myself as my body betrayed me.
Even my nipples were aching little pebbles longing to have his lips wrapped around them, sucking relentlessly.
He was far too gorgeous to be standing so close, enough so I could reach out and touch him, but I knew if I did, there would be no turning back.
There was no saying no to a man like the Savage.
Only when the tips of his lips curled into a mischievous smile did I remember I was standing buck naked in the shower covered in strawberry-scented shower gel now completely unworried about freezing to death or becoming paralyzed and dying a slow and agonizing death because of a bite from a venomous insect.
Sadly, Saint had that kind of effect on me.
And I hated him even more because of it.