Ricochet - Candice M. Wright Page 0,22

admit.

“I imagine it is. That door leads to a walk-in closet. It’s full of the crap I can’t fit in my room, but I can make space if you need it.” He points to one of two doors on the left, before stepping forward and pushing the remaining door open.

“And this is your bathroom.”

I step up beside him, all thoughts of keeping my distance disappearing when I spot the tub.

I vaguely take in the limestone floors and countertop and the double-wide sink. My focus is all for the sunken bathtub in the corner. It’s crazy to admit that at twenty-one I’ve never had a bath before, but it’s true. Our trailer only had a shower, and although Clyde’s house on the hill had one, I was never stupid enough to leave myself vulnerable for an extended length of time, so soaking in the tub wasn’t an option. Showers meant I could get in and out but soaking in a bath would have offered Clyde a temptation he would have found impossible to refuse.

“You know most women who make it as far as the bedroom only have eyes for me,” Reid comments drolly.

I tear my eyes away from the bath and look up at Reid’s amused face.

“Only one thing in this room will be making me wet, Reid, and it’s not you. The sooner you come to terms with that, the better,” I snap, frustrated that his words have an effect on me.

Spinning me around, he has me pinned against the door with my wrists trapped in one of his strong hands above my head.

“Challenge accepted, Cherry. You really should be more careful when you throw down the gauntlet like that,” he murmurs against my ear.

My body is strung tight, my chest heaving as he places a kiss against the side of my neck before pulling away.

“Get some rest. You have a rough night ahead of you,” he warns before storming out of the room and slamming the door without looking back.

“Fuck, I’m in so much trouble,” I curse, moving over to the window and looking down at the street below.

Something tells me I might have been safer down there in the gutters than in the devil’s penthouse.

One thing is for sure, I need to learn to hide my body’s reaction to Reid better because I know damn well he picks up on everything. If I want the upper hand, I need to keep my cards close to my chest.

Hearing the sound of a door slamming, I make my way back into the living area and find it empty. Did he leave me here? A quick search shows me I am indeed alone, so I take advantage of the fact and raid the fridge, helping myself to leftover Chinese food and a can of Coke.

I sit alone at the table. The silence starts grating on my nerves, so I turn on the TV and flick to the news station. I half listen to the pretty reporter drone on about the latest crime wave in the city.

Finishing up, I place my plate and glass in the sink before grabbing my backpack from beside the door where Reid put it earlier and make my way back to the room that’s temporarily mine.

There’s no lock on the door, so I shove the dresser in front of it before stripping off my clothes and taking a hot shower. As much as the bath calls to me, I don’t know how long I have until Reid comes back, and I don’t trust him to stay out.

I stay under the water longer than necessary, unable to make myself get out. I swear, I will never take the luxury of having a shower for granted ever again.

Eventually, when my skin resembles a prune, I shut off the water and climb out, drying off with a towel so soft I’m sure it’s made from clouds.

I plait my hair into two Viking braids, slip on black ripped jeans and a black tank top before sliding my shit kickers back on.

Rummaging around in my bag, I grab a flip knife and slide it into my jeans pocket before grabbing my hoodie. A quick whiff tells me it needs washing, so I toss it on the floor, eyeing the closet.

Chewing my lip, I decide, what the hell, he’s letting me borrow a room in his swanky pad; I’m sure he won’t care if I borrow a sweatshirt.

Pulling the door open, I pause, my mouth dropping open. This is a closet? It’s bigger

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