OLIVIA POV
The water had gone cold, a thin film over my skin like ice, but my chest still burned as if I’d swallowed fire. My hands were fists on my knees, nails biting crescents into my own flesh. Every time I replayed his voice in my head — that low, smooth voice that had somehow gone from annoying to… darkly dangerous — my stomach knotted tighter.
He had the nerve. The nerve of strolling around this shitty little motel room in nothing , not even a towel, wet hair dripping down his shoulders, muscles cut from stone like he’d been carved for war. He had the nerve to talk about spanking me like it was a game.
I pressed my forehead to my knees and blew out a shaky breath. The water licked my skin with cold now, but I was still too hot. Burning hot.
I got it. I got that he wasn’t the lit
