around it. “Be careful?”
“Always,” he promised, and this time, he really did smile. “Stay here? Get some more sleep? Eat? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Okay.” It was neither agreement nor disagreement. Not really. Call it splitting hairs, but it served as an acknowledgment on my part. He gave me one more look I couldn’t interpret before he stuffed his feet into his shoes, and then he was gone.
The light in the hallway made my eyes sting as the door opened, and I was blinking away spots as it closed behind him. The silence in the room seemed almost too thick, like it had a texture of its own. The news wasn’t on the television anymore. It was some early morning talk show. I lost all track of time in this windowless existence.
I debated just crawling back into bed and burying my face in the scent of Vaughn on the sheets and in the pillow. Hell, the scent of him clung to the shirt he’d pulled over my head. I could do that. I could crawl in like the obedient little prisoner and kidnap victim, or did I go see just how many of them had left?
I had a reason to go downstairs.
The studio was down there.
The mental debate lasted all of a minute before I slid into his bathroom where my clothes were now folded neatly on the back of the toilet, but the blood-stained ones were gone. Yeah, don’t look too closely for those, Emersyn.
Because they hadn’t slowed my choice last night when I decided to scratch that itch or this morning, and if I were honest with myself, if Vaughn were here right now?
Yeah, I wouldn’t be thinking about them.
The water heated up fast, and I threw myself through a sketchy shower. My hair was a mess, but I pulled it up and tied it into a bit of a bun. I needed to wash off the sex and the feel of his hands, his lips, his fingers—fuck me, his piercing.
Not that I had a hope in hell of erasing those sensations. The soap reminded me of him, and I might have taken my time in washing down with it. After, I toweled off and pulled on my abandoned clothes. I left the television on and straightened the disheveled bedsheets. I had no idea why I even bothered. At the door, I paused, then backtracked to the little fridge.
Sure enough, there were protein shakes in there. I downed two in rapid succession. The pinching feeling in the hollow of my stomach vanished, and the water I washed down after it helped too. I debated taking some more, but once I got out of the warehouse, I needed to keep moving.
I left Vaughn’s room and headed to my own for shoes. I wanted to take a bag or something, but I didn’t dare. Instead, I went for running shoes, and if they asked about them, I could tell them I needed to run to warm up my muscles.
There was a slim chance some of them would buy it.
Besides, what was the worst they were going to do?
Lock me in my room again?
I paused only long enough to grab a hair tie. I pony-tailed my hair on my way down the steps. Every movement reminded me of the ache between my thighs. Fuck, I was gonna feel him for days. The quiet on the first floor was unnerving, but I swung into the kitchen anyway.
No one.
Licking my lips, I headed down the hall toward the studio. A rat poked his head out of the living room.
I really shouldn’t call them that, but that was what the guys called them. He stared at me, but didn’t say a word. Thankfully, he couldn’t see my pulse racing. Once I was in the studio, I leaned against the door. There was no lock.
The way they’d built it, the ceiling climbed all the way up to the warehouse roof. The walls were there, blocking me from the outside, but they’d worked the harness for the silks into the struts of the ceiling supports. The scrape of a shoe on the other side of the door had me stilling. I crossed over and pulled out one of the marked CDs.
I put Happy Shit on to play and Bruno Mars filled the room. I turned it all the way up until the beat thumped. Then I began stretching. I had my reasons.
Going out through the main warehouse would automatically earn me attention from