Page 35 of Pack Owned
Leaning against the counter, the cold granite sucking the heat from my hands, panic starts to gnaw at my insides. I can’t stay here, not while Mom’s probably picturing my face plastered on every news channel, sandwiched between reports of war and the stock market crash.
“Think, Kayla,” I urge myself. The mansion feels like a fortress now, its walls closing in, trapping me in luxury while my instincts scream for escape.Liam.
I skitter back to the laundry room, my boots squeaking against the polished floors, but the room is empty, too.
Where is everyone?
As I weave through hallways, each turn is a gamble, each step a prayer to find something, anything that could be my lifeline to the outside world.
I stumble upon a huge bathroom and not just any bathroom. This one’s fit for royalty with its marble tiles, which I swear have real gold threaded through the veins, and gilded mirrors. It’s so over the top, it almost hurts to look at.
Water cascades somewhere inside, a call that draws me forward.
Smart Kayla says turn around, find another way, but desperate Kayla? She’s got a one-track mind laser-focused right now.
Taking a deep breath, I blurt out, “Hello?” My voice cracks even though I’m trying to sound all tough. I inch closer since the shower probably drowned out my words. Whoever is in the shower might have their cell with their clothes. I can grab it and leave without them even knowing I was there.
I edge closer, the steam whispering across my skin. I’m practically at the edge of the frosted glass door now, the sound ofthe shower loud and clear with a pile of clothes in the corner just on the other side of the shower from me.
As I reach out to search the clothes next to the shower, Liam’s body is partially visible, and I freeze, unable to look away. They must have anti-fog glass or something for me to see this much.
Water sluices over his muscular form, droplets tracing the lines of his body and are way sexier than any spicy romance novel I’ve read. His head is thrown back, hands working with a fervor that speaks of urgent need.
His taut muscles flex under the hot stream, and the sight turns my insides molten.
He’s lost in his pleasure as his hands work diligently across his sculpted chest and down toward the V that draws me to gawk at his huge cock that’s erect and pointing straight at me.
Liam claps his erection in his hand, stroking the length of it back and forth, and I can’t look away.
A rolling moan rumbles from deep within him, vibrating inside me.
The sight of him is making my whole body tingle.
Liam’s eyes remain closed, oblivious to me staring. Then a moan of such longing that the sound of it echoes in the hollow of my chest.
“Kayla,” he gasps out. My name is on his lips, wrapped in a shudder that sends shockwaves straight to my core.
I stumble back, panic shoving all the air out of my lungs.
Then I notice he’s not looking at me. His eyes are still closed, so he’s thinking of me while he’s jerking off.
Gotta get the hell out of here… now, before he opens his eyes and catches me staring like a creep.
I spin around and bolt out of the bathroom.
Outside, I lean against the wall, my heart in my throat, my body thumping with arousal.
He said my name… he’s fantasizing it’s me in there with him.
I swallow hard and know I should leave, but I can’t get my legs to move
I must be losing my mind because all I can think about is being in the shower with him. Making him moan and saying my name again. His hands, his lips on me. It’s insane—this pull toward him, this craving for lips I’ve never kissed. It can’t be my heat, not now. Not yet. It’s still way too early.
Pushing off the wall, I walk away quickly and keep glancing back in case he saw me and sticks his head out of the bathroom. I take another turn on another corridor corner and frown. Where the hell am I? Am I lost? I keep heading ahead until I reach the end of a hallway that swings left sharply. I take a shaky breath, the cool air a pinprick against my flushed skin.
A heavy door catches my eye. A faint whiff of motor oil tinges the air behind it, reminding me so much of my dad before he died that my heart squeezes. He used to work on cars, tinkering. It was his passion until he got sick, and chemo took his strength.
With a cautious push, I crack the door open a sliver.
