Page 151 of Enthrall Shadows
But at least we were both home safe.
I stepped beneath the piping hot water, the force of it pummeling my aching limbs and washing off the grime of sweat and dust.
Eventually, I dragged myself out from under the blissful cascade and climbed into his king-sized bed, snuggling beneath the covers and drifting off to sleep.
And dreaming.
My feet sank into the swampy land as I searched frantically for someone.
“Henry!”
I jerked awake, my heart racing. I let out a long breath, taking a few seconds to re-orient myself and recognize my surroundings. I was sleeping in a strange bed—though nothis.
My bad dream was not surprising considering the stress I’d put myself through. My subconscious had taken the hit.
And now I was starving.
Slipping out of bed, I peeked between the window blinds, seeing darkness. I must have only slept an hour.
I pulled on the luxury bathrobe Henry had given me and padded out to search for something to eat. He wouldn’t mind if I investigated the fridge.
I soon found the kitchen, which was as big as my living room and a lot more luxurious. A pot of coffee was brewing, the scent of delicious beans filling the room.
That’s right. I’d slept in the bed of a tea and coffee mogul.
How fun is that?
Had sex with him, too.
That story was reserved for the history books.
I opened his fridge.
Hmmm.
There was a generous collection of pasta dishes that could be heated up in the microwave. Olives in fancy jars. Pots of caviar. A selection of fruit. Chef prepared meals. Beneath a silver dome lay a selection of desserts.
And sugar was exactly what I was craving.
After washing my hands, I found a small plate and placed a large chocolate éclair on it. This was my reward for surviving an adventure of a lifetime in the untamed wilderness.
Taking a seat at one of the central island’s barstools, I bit into the éclair and moaned as cream oozed out of my mouth. I licked my fingers.
“That’s not erotic at all,” said Henry.
I yelped in surprise—then laughed nervously.
He’d been sitting in the shadows all this time, seemingly comfortable in a high-backed chair with an iPad on his lap.
“You scared me to death!” I blurted out.
He set the iPad down.
“Hope you don’t mind.” I pointed to the fridge.
“I’m glad you’re making yourself at home.”
“What are you reading?”
