Kimberly Dean - Solace in Scandal

He stripped as the water warmed. When he finally pulled the glass door shut behind him, the steam was already rising. Bracing his hands against the granite wall, he let the dual shower heads spray over him. He was pushing himself, he knew. That snake was still coiled inside his chest. He was doing his best to keep it contained, but she’d seen it lash out yesterday. He regretted that.

He bowed his head and the pulsating water beat against the back of his neck. He needed to get both of them out of here.

Those eyes.

They showed everything she was feeling – distrust, curiosity, anger, lust …

Ax felt himself stirring. His tired body was filling with another kind of energy, one that was immediate and gnawing. Hunger started seeping through his veins. His mouth watered and his fingertips ached. His senses heightened, and the images behind his closed eyelids became vivid. Below the belt, he was hard and aching. Damn near throbbing. When the tip of his erection bumped against his belly, he swore and slapped the slick wall.

‘Fuck.’

Standing upright, he reached for the soap. He’d had her pegged that first night. She was a temptress, a siren luring him in so she could bring him down.

That was not going to happen.

With their intertwined histories, they could destroy each other.

He soaped himself, shampooed and rinsed off. His body was one big ache, but he ignored it. Screw the rain, he needed to get out of this house.

He turned off the water so abruptly, the pipes shook. The bathroom was cloudy as he stepped out of the shower stall. He’d forgotten to turn on the fan. The mirror was fogged over and condensation covered the fixtures. He dried off the moisture, but it came back just as quickly. He wrapped a fresh towel around his waist and reached for the bathroom door to let in some fresh air.

It didn’t give.

His head came up. The tired muscles of his gut seized up as one, and he gave another tug on the door.

It held firm.

‘What the hell?’

Stepping closer, he looked to see if a lock had been flipped. There wasn’t even a mechanism. Wrapping his fist around the handle, he braced his other hand against the wall. He might be fresh from a workout, but he should still have enough strength to open a stinking door. With a sound close to a growl, he gave another yank.

This time the top corner bowed inward, but the bottom remained lodged. Something had the door jammed.

Ax felt his breaths go short and his chest tighten unbearably. The air wasn’t going past his throat and it felt like it was bulging. He yanked on the door again. Shoved it and pulled. It was like a bank vault.

The walls pressed in on him. He looked over the door, his thoughts pinging about as he tried to force his brain to work. Looking around, he realised he was in an interior room. No windows. No other route for escape.

The snake slithered. He jimmied the door and yanked it harder.

Nothing worked.

He was locked in. Trapped in the tiny space. Those demons he remembered were out and about, taunting him. He slapped the light switches, turning on the string of bulbs over the vanity, and switched the fan on high. The dampness in the air was making it hard to breathe. The moisture coated his vocal cords and clung to his exposed skin.

‘Hey!’ he yelled, banging his fist against the door. ‘Somebody!’

The big old house was silent.

Not wanting to, he turned off the fan so he could hear. The loss of the whirring noise left a gaping hole. He heard nothing. No water dripping, no gym equipment running, no footsteps, no voices in return.

He set up a staccato rhythm that had the door bouncing on its hinges. It set up a racket, but the door was immovable.

‘Can anyone hear me?’

He heard a noise now, but it was his heart pounding in his ears and his head. He was confined again. He slammed both fists against the heavy oak door, making contact all the way down his forearms to his elbows.

His control was crumbling.

And then the snake was loose.

‘Help! Get me out of here. Anyone. Hey. Let me out!’

Elena hurried through the door to the kitchen of the main house and shook herself to get rid of the rain. It was pouring outside. The walk up the hill didn’t look that long, but she’d gotten drenched in the time it had taken for her to run the distance. She dropped her backpack onto the floor and tugged off her jacket. She hung it on the metal coat rack beside the door and tried not to shiver when a droplet of water ran down the back of her neck.

‘Hello?’ she called. A stack of freshly washed kitchen towels was on the granite counter. She grabbed the top one and brushed it over her damp skin. ‘Is anyone here?’

She knew that Marta and Leonard were out running errands, because they’d asked her for a list of things she needed. The only other person’s location she wasn’t sure about was his . She hadn’t seen any lights on in the main house from her view down by the lake. There’d been no movement or any other signs of life. It was hard to believe he’d be out wandering around in this kind of weather, but she already knew he didn’t like being cooped up.

Maybe he was sleeping or off in some distant room. The place had enough of them. She slipped off her shoes and left them on the throw rug by the door so she wouldn’t track mud.

‘It’s Elena,’ she called. She didn’t want to raise her voice too much. She just needed to buzz down to the first-floor library, but she didn’t want to stumble across anyone unexpectedly. That had already happened with a certain person too many times, and she didn’t want it to happen here, in his home.

Even if he had given her permission to be here.

Blotting her wet hair, she padded over to peek through the kitchen doorway. ‘I’m just here to borrow a book,’ she called lightly.

The looming stillness of the house gave her visions of a black hole just waiting to suck her up. She waited another moment, and then yet another for good measure.

Summoning up her nerve, she began tiptoeing down the hallway. She knew which book she needed and where it was. Her plan was to just grab it and go. The problem was that the library was at the other end of the house, a trek away.

She started down the long corridor, trying not to let it unnerve her. The place was just so big and museum-like. She looked into the foyer with its massive stair tower rising overhead. It picked up even the soft patter of her footsteps and made them echo. Squeezing the last bit of moisture from her hair into the towel, she looked in the other direction. It made her pause. The open room was sweeping and expansive, and it offered a wall-to-wall view of the lake – and, off to the right, her house.

Well, not her house. His lake house.

He’d been watching her that first night from the balcony right outside those windows. Had he been watching her since?

The idea sent another kind of shiver down her spine.

Hurrying along, she passed empty rooms filled with oak furniture, priceless antiques and vintage rugs. She felt out of place here, surrounded by so much wealth. Everything felt so heavy, yet so luxurious and tempting. The only context she had was the time she and her mother had vacationed in Rhode Island. Her aunt had taken them on a tour of the famous mansions of Newport – the summer getaways for the likes of the Vanderbilts and the Rockefellers. The only difference there was that the rooms had been roped off. The classic look-but-don’t-touch approach.

This was real.

These people lived this way. They kept this mansion that was way too big with way too many rooms. They slept on these beds, walked across those priceless rugs, toyed with those pricey ceramic figurines … Privilege. There were so many aspects to that word. She couldn’t imagine how it would feel to not have to worry about money, to have any pleasure or comfort available at the snap of her fingers.