Sordid by Nikki Sloane

too paralyzed to remember how to breathe. He reared back, and the sharp slap of his palm across my cheek was what I needed. The sting forced me to gasp in air and brought me back to full consciousness.
    “Fuck,” he said with enormous relief. He dropped his hold, slid backward, and sat opposite me in the tub, his soaked jeans clinging to his legs as the water sloshed violently around us. His chest lifted and fell quickly, as if breathing hard.
    I coughed, and coughed again, shaking the water from my lungs. My throat burned and my legs ached from thrashing against the marble. In fact, every inch of my body hurt. I curled up into the fetal position to make my body as small as possible. The bath was large but not really built for two, and I didn’t want any part of him touching me.
    There was a thump as he pushed and released the stopper, and water gurgled down the drain. I lay in the corner of the oval tub, shivering and trembling, with my eyes shut tight. Water, or possibly tears, streaked down my face, but I didn’t dare move.
    “Addison.”
    The soft sound of my name in his voice made me flinch. I clutched my arms tighter around my body, and tucked my head. I’d retreat as much as possible.
    It was utterly silent.
    I waited for him to lash out, but he climbed out of the tub. There were sopping noises as he took off his wet clothes and hurled them to the tile floor. A towel was pulled down off a rack, clothes were gathered up, and wet footsteps padded away.
    I stayed in the tub until all the water was gone and my skin turned to ice. There were no sounds from the bedroom. Had he left me? Was this some new sort of game or test?
    The towel I yanked down was thick and soft against my chilled skin, but it didn’t offer comfort. I banded it tight around my shivering body and stared at the floor. He hadn’t just taken his clothes when he’d gone—he’d taken everything of mine except for the plain black panties. I stepped into them and pulled them up.
    Last night he’d cornered me on the stairs and demanded I think of him when I ached between my legs, and today it was impossible not to. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but how could I get rid of him in my mind, after the last twelve hours? I squeezed the towel through my hair, drying it as best I could, then draped the luxurious fabric under my arms to cover myself, took in a deep breath, and stepped out into the bedroom.
    Luka sat on the same loveseat as he had this morning, only now he wore a new pair of jeans and simple evergreen colored t-shirt. He stood when I came into view, and his heavy, angry gaze was crushing.
    I stared at his feet and watched them approach. I didn’t fight him as he grasped the towel, pulled it away, and made a production of dropping it to the floor. My cheeks burned red. I wasn’t comfortable being naked in front of Avery, and even though this was just my breasts, it was far worse being exposed in front of Luka. I continued to watch his bare feet as he went to and retrieved the wadded dress shirt he’d ripped off of me earlier.
    “Put this on.”
    I took it in my trembling hands and hurried to slip my arms into the sleeves. When I went to do up one of the buttons that hadn’t popped off, his hands closed on mine.
    “It stays open.”
    And his hands remained clasping mine. When I tried to pull back, his grip went firm.
    “Your schedule,” he said.
    I swallowed back the cry in my throat, which was a terrible, painful lump, and finally met his gaze. I’d expected more anger, but there wasn’t any. His eyes were . . . vacant.
    Wait, no. Not vacant. Curious, perhaps. It gave him a clinical look, like he was studying me with unsure, scientific eyes. He let go and immediately moved to cradle my face in his hands.
    “All right. Let’s try a different approach,” he said softly.
    His gentle kiss was the harshest blow he could deliver. His lips sealed over mine, and tried to coerce my participation, but I went rigid under the