what happened during that time?
The come on my stomach begins to itch again, and I scratch it, cringing when I feel the crustiness. Finally, I drop the sheets and head to the bathroom attached to the bedroom and nearly drool when I see how open it is. There’s a huge soaking tub to the left, with salts and oils sitting on a shelf in the corner. I didn’t take Rainbow for the bath-taking kind of man, but he has yet to not surprise me.
The shower is large, fit for three men his size, which has my mind concocting all sorts of fantasies.
I decide to fill the bath and pour a cup of lavender salts in the water with a good amount of oil.
“Shit,” I curse when I realize the oil was bubble bath.
So. Many. Bubbles.
Why am I giddy? It’s been forever since I’ve taken a bath.
I slowly sink into the hot water and hiss when the steam is a little too hot on my ass. I take it slower, and my skin adjusts to the temperature. When I’m fully seated, I lean my head against the small square pillow.
I did not expect luxury in a biker clubhouse.
The sound of the water cascading into the tub from the rose gold fixture has my eyes drooping. When the bubbles tickle my chin, I lift my foot and shut off the faucet, relaxing into the hot water. I feel like I’m at a spa.
Since I got cut off by my parents, I’ve gotten used to living in rundown apartments and busted motels, fishing secondhand furniture out from the curb. I’ve learned so much being on my own. Secondhand items are just as beautiful, if not better, than brand new items. People don’t realize how much life remains in things that they just throw away. Sure, you may need to bug-bomb a ratty couch or super-glue a leg back on a chair, but just because something is a little bit run-down doesn’t mean it’s worth throwing away.
I’ve grown up since my parents kicked me out. I had to learn the realities of the world fast if I wanted to survive. The process has made me jaded, and I think Rainbow just might be the balm that smooths out all the edges.
Swooping the bubbles with my arms closer to my shoulders, I duck under the water, holding my breath to soak my hair. I use my hands to push up to break the surface when a hand holds me down on the top of my head.
For a split, guilty second, I think it’s Rainbow, but in my heart, I know he’d never scare me like this.
My hands shoot up from the water, and I grip the arm holding me down. The fingers bunch in my hair and the person’s nails dig into my scalp. My lungs burn. Panic thrashes in my chest. Water is splashing everywhere, and then I’m yanked out of the water.
I take a deep breath, inhaling as much air as I can before he dunks me again. I continue to fight and thrash around, but it’s no use. Even underwater, tears are stinging my eyes. I scream, blowing bubbles from my mouth.
When I’m lifted out of the water again, I gasp for breath, sputtering out lavender-flavored water and bubbles. My eyes sting from the soap, making my sight blurry, and my hands are still locked around the man’s wrist. I know it’s a man because I can feel the arm hair and the muscle in the forearm, and the ragged breathing is too heavy for a woman.
Right when I think he’s about to say something, he holds me under again.
Longer this time.
Until my head feels like it’s about to explode and the fight is leaving my body.
And he lets go.
I shove myself out of the water to breathe and look around for the culprit.
I’m alone.
The curtain covering the bathroom window sways from his quick departure.
There’s someone here who disapproves of me. Rainbow is wrong.
I’m not safe here.
I’m as happy as a mother-fuckin’-clam!
“Heads up!” Hound shouts as he tosses me the rope to hook to my harness.
I catch it just in time and tie the knot through the hook. “Thanks, Hound!” Hound is actually one of the few firefighters in the house. Unfortunately, everyone is based at different stations, so we don’t have the pleasure of working with one another. “You steady?” I shout down at him from the roof and think about how I could have done this by myself, but I