Chapter 4: Steam and Submission
The scalding water hit her like a physical slap, searing her skin where his blood still streaked her chin. “You bit me,” he snarled, his grip tightening on her wet hair as he forced her gaze upward, the shower spray pounding between them like a downpour.
“So taste yourself,” she spat, and jerked her head down to sink her teeth into the hand fisted in her hair. He roared, a raw sound of pure shock that vibrated through the marble walls.
He yanked his hand back, the torn skin stark against the white marble. “Nobody’s ever been stupid enough to try that twice,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper as he stared at the fresh wound.
He moved with a speed that blurred the steaming air. Then he threw her against the wall, the impact jarring her teeth and stealing her breath.
The cold marble seared her shoulder blades as his body crushed against hers, eliminating the steam-filled space between them. He pinned her there, his forearm a brutal bar across her collarbone, his other hand still tangled in her sopping hair.
His free hand caught both her wrists, crushing them in one fist before slamming them back against the wet marble above her head. She gasped at the sudden restraint, the cool stone a shocking contrast to the heat of his skin.
She drove her forehead upward, a sharp, sickening crack meeting the bridge of his nose. “Fuck!” he grunted, staggering back half a step, his grip loosening just enough for her to wrench one wrist free.
She used that fractional space, twisting her slick body and driving her knee upward, not aiming for his groin but for the inside of his thigh where the nerve would scream. His leg buckled, and she was gone, scrambling across the wet floor and out of the shower stall, leaving him slumped against the wall. “You wanted fire,” she panted from the bathroom doorway, her hair plastered to her skull, “but you can’t control an inferno.”
She slipped on the wet marble, her bare feet skidding as she bolted from the bathroom’s steam into the penthouse’s cold, open silence. The suite’s main door hissed shut behind her, locking with a final, heavy thud just as his fist slammed against the other side.
The heavy thud echoed through the penthouse, a definitive period to their fight. Lexi slumped against the locked door, her breath fogging the cold metal, listening to his silenced rage on the other side.
He never stayed behind a locked door for long. A minute later, the electronic lock disengaged with a soft, mocking beep, and the heavy door swung inward to reveal him, a fresh smear of blood under his nose, already reaching for her.
He caught her wrist before she could turn, his momentum driving her back until the cold glass of the floor-to-ceiling window pressed against her spine. "Running just makes the cage smaller, Lexi," he said, his voice a low rasp against the pulse hammering in her throat.