her. Where even Jack
wouldn’t know where she was.
A reprieve. However short it was, she welcomed it.
Knowing she was wasting hot water, she stepped into the shower and groaned as the heat cascaded
over her aching body. It was sheer bliss. The most wonderful thing she’d ever felt.
She tossed her head upward, letting the spray wash over her face and down her neck. Her scrapes
stung as the hot water abraded them, but she was careful to clean all the cuts in her skin.
She remained in the shower until her body grew heavy and sluggish from being exposed to the
intense heat for so long. After rinsing her hair one last time, she reluctantly turned off the water and
stepped out.
Warm air washed over her, surprising her. She glanced upward to see that Jace had evidently
turned on the bathroom heater and it was nice and cozy after her half-hour shower. He had decadent
towels. Huge and fluffy, so soft that she felt surrounded by a cloud. She could almost wrap it twice
around her body.
It was sinfully wasteful, but she used two towels, one for her body and the other to wrap in her
hair. It was a frivolous luxury that gave her a giddy thrill to indulge in.
She blinked in surprise when she realized that there was a change of clothes lying on the counter
that hadn’t been there before. And a thick robe hanging on the back of the door. There was also a pair
of slippers. The man had thought of everything.
Her gaze tracked to the clothes again and she frowned. Like he kept women’s clothing just lying
around his apartment?
She picked up the pair of jeans and the T-shirt and quickly saw that both were too big. Not by
much, and truthfully, a year or so ago they would have fit. She hadn’t been as thin then. Not as lean.
More fleshed out. She’d had more of an actual shape.
Now she was reduced to boobs and not much else. No hips. Not much of an ass. Angular features
due to weight loss. Life on the streets was hard. It aged a person before their time.
After taking the time to dry herself completely, she pulled on the pair of panties stuck between the
jeans and the T-shirt, embarrassed that she was borrowing some other woman’s underwear. There
wasn’t a bra, and she supposed it didn’t really matter anyway. She only had two and both were
almost falling apart. The one she’d taken off—or rather Jace had taken off—was dirty and torn. It
wasn’t salvageable.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t already gotten up close and personal with her boobs. Seeing her without a
bra wouldn’t be a shock.
She tugged the T-shirt over her head and it hung loosely over her hips. It didn’t even stretch tight
over her breasts, which meant whoever the shirt belonged to was more endowed than she was.
After pulling on the jeans, she took the towel off her head and dragged her fingers through her hair
in an attempt to rectify the bedraggled wet-cat look. She was only moderately successful and she
wasn’t about to rummage through Jace’s drawers to borrow a brush.
She blew out a deep breath, squared her shoulders and then turned to the door. She hesitated, her
hand gripping the knob. Total chicken. The idea of facing Jace terrified her. Not because she thought
he’d hurt her but because she knew she didn’t stand a chance against him.
Worse, she wasn’t certain she wanted to stand up to him. It was far easier to allow him to take
charge. Being taken care of was such a foreign concept that it tempted her. It dangled before her like
the proverbial carrot before the donkey.
She jumped when the door vibrated against her hand.
“Bethany? Are you finished?”
Swallowing, she opened the door to see Jace standing a few feet away. He glanced down her body
and frowned.
“I need you to take those jeans back off. I was supposed to bandage you up before you got
dressed.”
“I forgot,” she said in a low voice. “I assumed since you left the clothing there that you intended for
me to get dressed.”
“Not a big
wouldn’t know where she was.
A reprieve. However short it was, she welcomed it.
Knowing she was wasting hot water, she stepped into the shower and groaned as the heat cascaded
over her aching body. It was sheer bliss. The most wonderful thing she’d ever felt.
She tossed her head upward, letting the spray wash over her face and down her neck. Her scrapes
stung as the hot water abraded them, but she was careful to clean all the cuts in her skin.
She remained in the shower until her body grew heavy and sluggish from being exposed to the
intense heat for so long. After rinsing her hair one last time, she reluctantly turned off the water and
stepped out.
Warm air washed over her, surprising her. She glanced upward to see that Jace had evidently
turned on the bathroom heater and it was nice and cozy after her half-hour shower. He had decadent
towels. Huge and fluffy, so soft that she felt surrounded by a cloud. She could almost wrap it twice
around her body.
It was sinfully wasteful, but she used two towels, one for her body and the other to wrap in her
hair. It was a frivolous luxury that gave her a giddy thrill to indulge in.
She blinked in surprise when she realized that there was a change of clothes lying on the counter
that hadn’t been there before. And a thick robe hanging on the back of the door. There was also a pair
of slippers. The man had thought of everything.
Her gaze tracked to the clothes again and she frowned. Like he kept women’s clothing just lying
around his apartment?
She picked up the pair of jeans and the T-shirt and quickly saw that both were too big. Not by
much, and truthfully, a year or so ago they would have fit. She hadn’t been as thin then. Not as lean.
More fleshed out. She’d had more of an actual shape.
Now she was reduced to boobs and not much else. No hips. Not much of an ass. Angular features
due to weight loss. Life on the streets was hard. It aged a person before their time.
After taking the time to dry herself completely, she pulled on the pair of panties stuck between the
jeans and the T-shirt, embarrassed that she was borrowing some other woman’s underwear. There
wasn’t a bra, and she supposed it didn’t really matter anyway. She only had two and both were
almost falling apart. The one she’d taken off—or rather Jace had taken off—was dirty and torn. It
wasn’t salvageable.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t already gotten up close and personal with her boobs. Seeing her without a
bra wouldn’t be a shock.
She tugged the T-shirt over her head and it hung loosely over her hips. It didn’t even stretch tight
over her breasts, which meant whoever the shirt belonged to was more endowed than she was.
After pulling on the jeans, she took the towel off her head and dragged her fingers through her hair
in an attempt to rectify the bedraggled wet-cat look. She was only moderately successful and she
wasn’t about to rummage through Jace’s drawers to borrow a brush.
She blew out a deep breath, squared her shoulders and then turned to the door. She hesitated, her
hand gripping the knob. Total chicken. The idea of facing Jace terrified her. Not because she thought
he’d hurt her but because she knew she didn’t stand a chance against him.
Worse, she wasn’t certain she wanted to stand up to him. It was far easier to allow him to take
charge. Being taken care of was such a foreign concept that it tempted her. It dangled before her like
the proverbial carrot before the donkey.
She jumped when the door vibrated against her hand.
“Bethany? Are you finished?”
Swallowing, she opened the door to see Jace standing a few feet away. He glanced down her body
and frowned.
“I need you to take those jeans back off. I was supposed to bandage you up before you got
dressed.”
“I forgot,” she said in a low voice. “I assumed since you left the clothing there that you intended for
me to get dressed.”
“Not a big
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