Surrender to Temptation Part II: Tempted to Rebel by Lauren Jameson

blue-gray water of the sea.
    I stared out the wall of glass as I sank into the tub, my eyes wide with wonder.
    The heat felt wonderful, though I hissed when the tender flesh between my legs was submerged. Zach hadn’t been gentle, and though I’d loved it, I was incredibly sore this morning.
    Memories of how he had handled my body made me flush all over. Despite the warmth of the water, I shivered.
    No matter what the rational part of my brain told me, no matter that we’d been together only hours ago, I wanted him with a ferocity than I hadn’t known I was capable of.
    I couldn’t do this again. Shouldn’t do it again. Wincing as the thought pained me, I reached for the bottle of body wash that sat on the edge of the tub, and began to hastily wash myself.
    The soap smelled like Zach.
    Scrubbing it through the long strands of my hair, I leaned back to rinse it away. Even stretched out lengthwise in the bath, it was so big that I couldn’t touch the sides,. I floated for a moment, enjoying the way the way the warm water buoyed me up when my thoughts wanted to weigh me down.
    Sitting up, I slicked my dripping hair from my face. At first I thought the sound was just my sense of hearing readjusting after my ears had been submerged in the bath.
    “No! No!” The words sounded almost strangled, like they were wrenched from someone’s chest.
    I straightened, my body suddenly tense. My senses weren’t playing tricks on me . . . what I heard was Zach, in the throes of what sounded like a terrible nightmare.
    “Slower . . . go slower . . .”
    My heart ached as I clambered out of the tub, water sluicing off my naked flesh in streams. I had had nightmares myself for a long time after my parents’ death. I still did once in a while. I knew how very real they could seem, even after waking.
    The sounds from the other room quieted, and I was relieved. Still, I groped for a towel. I’d decided to just go check on him before I got dressed.
    Though I didn’t know him well, I knew that Zach wouldn’t thank me for catching him at such a vulnerable moment, no matter what it was that he was dreaming about. But I also knew that being alone when horrific images were playing in your mind like a movie could make a person sick.
    I heard a rustle, the sound of a body shifting over bedsprings, and then the padding of feet over carpet. He was awake.
    My concern swung from wanting to make sure that he was okay to trepidation.
    I’d never had a morning after quite like this one.
    The heavy wooden door opened, and Zach burst into the room. He was still fully naked, and I could see that every muscle in his big body was tensed as if anticipating a blow.
    One look at him told me that he wasn’t fully awake yet—his eyes were open, but they searched the room as if he had never seen it before. I stood, mouth agape, uncertainty playing over my features as his stare roamed the room, finally settling on me. I felt as though that stare sliced right through me, a hot knife through soft butter, as he glowered at my naked, shivering self.
    “Are you okay?” He blinked, clearly trying to focus on me through the haze of sleep that still fogged his consciousness. Though he had seen every part of me the night before, I felt so exposed, wishing that I had had the time to pull a soft bath sheet to me, to hide my nakedness.
    Zach’s eyes narrowed as I watched him, wide-eyed, and he looked furious. I didn’t know what I had done to provoke him, if anything—I couldn’t tell if the nightmare was still clinging to him, like a sticky spider’s web—couldn’t tell if this was his reality, or if he was still caught in the dream.
    Crossing the room in three long strides, he caught me by the shoulders and shook me. As his fingers dug into my shoulder blades, the fury was still apparent on his face, but it was mixed with the slightest hint of confusion. My heart melted, even as nerves skittered through my veins.
    A clammy chill settled over me when he