“I don’t get what you mean!” I whispered, trying to hide my burning red face. But he had already wormed his way into my thoughts, twisting them into impossible fantasies. Dark, sinful images I shouldn’t even think about.

“You will understand what I mean soon, but first you need to go in there and wash that bitch scent off you.”

“No.”

“I guess you prefer me doing it myself,” he groaned, staring at me heatedly. “Strip.”

I bit my lip, heart hammering, and forced my legs to move. “I’ll go take my bath myself,” I muttered, already heading to the bathroom.

Marble and chrome usually felt cold and pristine, but...