Chapter 27 #3
I inhale sharply when he lifts another palm full and pours it over my thigh again. I’m both riveted and sickened by the sight of the droplets splashing over my skin before sliding down my leg in rivulets.
“Water in itself isn’t dangerous. It’s just a tool, something easy to manipulate.
It’s what wields power over it that turns it into a monster.
The wind creates waves in the ocean. Those waves can turn into riptides when something obstructs its flow.
Storms, volcanoes, earthquakes… all powerful forces that turn the ocean into a weapon. ”
A shudder works through me as his deep, soft voice rolls against my nerves. It’s as soothing as it is electrifying.
“Be the storm, darling,” he rasps quietly, eliciting another tremor as he pours more water over my trembling thighs. “Command the water, wield it like a weapon. In here, you are the force to be reckoned with, not it.”
Releasing a shaky breath, I nod.
“Move down one step.”
The order has my chest tightening with anxiety, but I force myself to scoot forward and sink onto the first step between his legs, my feet moving down to the second. Yet another shiver works through me as the cool water engulfs my bottom half.
I close my eyes and try to picture myself in the bathtub instead, but the overwhelming smell of chlorine keeps the fantasy at bay. No matter how hard I try to imagine otherwise, I’m not in a safe place, and my brain refuses to let me forget it.
As if sensing my turmoil, Dread pushes me forward until I’m at the edge and then drops onto the step behind me. Instantly, the heat at my back and his strong presence soothe the panic like ointment over a burn.
I’m too panicky to consider what that means. All I can think about is how oppressive the water feels around me, like I’m submerged in thick goo rather than fluid liquid.
“Sit as still as you can,” he orders, grabbing my hands and resting them on each of my thighs. I deliberately ignore how his massive hands feel wrapped around mine, instead focusing on his words.
I try to still the trembling in my body as best I can, and for several long moments, we sit there in silence.
“You see how the water doesn’t move on its own? It can’t climb up your body and suffocate you. It only moves when you do.”
I nod, the movement aggressive and choppy, like I’m trying to convince myself of it. Maybe because I’m not fully confident it can’t become sentient and grow arms to choke me out yet.
“Will you sit on the second step for me?”
The request has my stomach bottoming out. He squeezes my hands, a reminder he’s here. With me. For whatever fucking reason.
Tightening my lips, I nod again.
“Good girl,” he whispers, the sound sensual and full of pride. It completely decimates my control over my body and opens the gates for another shiver to tumble down my spine.
My heart flutters, and a burning heat stirs low in my stomach. His voice is a sickness, the symptoms detrimental to my mental well-being. In a desperate attempt to rid myself of them, I scoot forward and drop to the second step as my feet move to the third, the water rising to my midsection.
The goosebumps return with a vengeance, and this time, when I shiver, it’s from the chilly temperature.
“Why don’t they heat these damn pools?” I bite out through gritted teeth.
He snorts. “That would be too kind. Try swimming with the pool full of ice.”
I frown and twist to look up at him. I wasn’t prepared for the sight of him sitting behind me, black strands hanging over his eyes as he peers down with an emotion I can’t quite pin.
The contrast of the dim room with the bright pool creates shadows across his face that sharpen his straight nose and jawline while the water glints off his silver nose ring and the small hoops in his ears.
He’s so goddamn beautiful, it’s almost deadly. It stops the air in your lungs and seizes your heart from pumping.
Every damn time.
Forcing myself to swallow, I ask, “Why would you swim with ice in the pool?”
“According to Coach, it improves your circulation, burns more calories, and helps with sore muscles. I think he just wants me to suffer.”
I jut out my bottom lip in consideration.
“I like his style,” I say while turning back around, but not before I catch one corner of his mouth quirking into a mirthful smirk.
It prods at the nest of butterflies in my stomach, but again, I do my best to ignore that.
He’s not just a sickness—he’s the plague.
“Careful, baby,” he murmurs, those two words a proverbial fist closing around my windpipe. I feel him lean down, his hot breath warming my ear as he whispers, “I can think of a few ways to torture you with an ice cube.”
My mouth dries, and for a few moments, I forget all about the water surrounding me. Instead, an unbidden image takes control, showing me exactly how he’d carry out that threat.
In a matter of seconds, fire erupts in my cheeks, burning hot as the fantasy takes on a mind of its own and completely spins out of control.
I scoot away from him. “I think I’d rather drown,” I mutter. Not only does it lack heat, but conviction, too.
He chuckles, and it only stokes the flames warming my blood to boiling levels. Against my will, my nipples have hardened, and my swimsuit does nothing to hide that fact.
Go back to panicking, Rev. This is so much worse.
“I can help with that, too. Just make sure your jaw is nice and relaxed.”
Growling, I turn and slap his chest, hissing at him to shut the fuck up.
Instead, it earns me a deep laugh that has my heart stopping once again.
Against my better judgment, I glance at him, taking in the deep crinkles around his eyes, the dimples forming right below them on the swells of his cheeks.
It’s an incredibly rare sight, especially in my presence, and it’s impossible not to let my stare linger. I can’t tell what’s more enthralling—the sound of his laughter or how otherworldly he looks doing so.
Regardless, by the time I face forward, I have no idea why I was irritated in the first place, only that I’m annoyed with myself for the point-two seconds I considered coming up with another reason to make him laugh again.
I’m an idiot.
He’s an asshole, we hate each other, and fucking him a few times doesn’t change our fucked-up history. This may be some weird truce for tonight, but we will never be friends. Never be more than friends.
“Just… teach me how to swim, dickhead,” I mumble, forcing myself to focus on the water. It makes my heart jump, but right now, I prefer it over the way Dread makes me feel.
I don’t know when it happened, but as far as my greatest fears, my feelings for Dread are now the scariest.
He maneuvers out from behind me and descends into the water, bending his knees until it reaches his shoulders.
My throat tightens when he grabs my hands and gently pulls me forward.
Instinctively, I resist, my muscles straining against him.
He easily overpowers me, tugging me off the steps into the shallow water.
An embarrassing squeak leaves my throat as the water climbs up to my neck. My legs flail, and my eyes blow wide, already convinced I’m on the verge of drowning.
“Easy, baby,” he soothes. “You’re only in four feet of water. If it gets to be too much, stand up.”
I stand instantly and try to breathe, resisting the urge to claw at my throat.
It feels as if a snake has circled around it, slowly squeezing until only a sliver of oxygen slips through.
My chest pumps, and while a distant part of me is aware of how ridiculous I’m being, I’m unable to do anything but fucking panic.
Dread quickly wades toward me and stands, towering over me by too many inches to be reasonable. His palms slide along either side of my face before lifting my jaw up to him. I wheeze, his features blurred and vague.
“Focus on me, Rev, and take deep breaths. You’re not drowning.”
But I am.
I’ve been drowning my entire fucking life.
I blink, and a tear slips free. I hadn’t even noticed them welling in my eyes.
He’s quick to swipe it away with his thumb, but a few more replace it. He catches those, too, tilting my face up higher.
“Do you remember two years ago what you did with all of my swimsuits?”
My brows knit as I try to recall that memory. It takes several seconds before I can get my brain functioning properly again, but after a moment, I remember exactly the incident he’s referring to.
“You hung up pictures of my dad’s mugshot all over campus,” I croak out. “I couldn’t go anywhere without seeing his face. It sent me into a panic attack.”
For once, he doesn’t look proud to hear that, but I’m too distracted to dwell on it.
“And what did you do to get back at me?”
My voice is shaky and breathless as I say, “I… I offered Matt a hundred bucks to sneak me into your dorm while you were at a meet. I had to pick the lock. I found all your suits and cut holes right over the crotch.”
That was actually how Matt and I met. As sophomores, we lived in different buildings with smaller rooms, Matt only three doors down from Dread.
I was lingering outside the building’s entrance, and Matt happened to be the first guy I saw.
He was wary of helping me at first, but I eventually convinced him in exchange for money.
Except, by the time I broke into Dread’s room, cut up his suits, and came back out, he gave the money back and asked for a date instead.
Apparently, he liked that I had the nerve to do something like that, and I thought he was really cute, so I accepted. It was the first time a guy looked at me with kindness in so long.
But that didn't last forever, of course.
Eventually, his kindness faded to contempt and exhaustion from my constant war with Dread, and I couldn't even blame him.
Dread barely stifles a sneer at the mention of Matt's name. It would appear Dread still hates him, though I don't really understand why. We haven't spoken since we broke up.