STOLEN SMILE

CATERINA

"Lust will be the death of us."

-Unknown

†*****†

THERE WAS NOTHING BUT SILENCE. In fact, the quiet seemed to eat at me the entire drive. And the worst thing about it was her car smelled so damn good. The events of today hit me like whiplash, leaving a numbness behind that only her masculine scent seemed to penetrate. Instead of the prickling feeling of panic, her close proximity and the idea of her hands on me were driving me insane.

It was as though my body focused on the primal aspect I'd been craving so I wouldn't be traumatized by the event. A protective mechanism.

I was equating marrying Jennifer to severe trauma.

Truly, it didn't seem far apart.

The feelings were so tenacious I remained only numb, leaving room for one thing. Warmth hummed between my legs, my skin a nesting ground for electricity and ice.

My mamma had watched me walk out the door with Jenn carrying my bag, her eyes wide as if I were being sent to the slaughterhouse. Even my sister had rushed down the stairs, mouthing, "I'm sorry," before the door shut behind me. Papà never came out of his office, and Trevor and my cousins only watched Jenn like she was stealing something.

I wanted to stay detached from this woman, as indifferent as I possibly could, but as the city passed before my eyes in a blur of concrete and bright sun and we grew closer to her place, impassive was not a word I would even recognize.

When we pulled up to a familiar red-brick house, my throat grew tight.

"Why not the penthouse?"

"Expecting something more lavish?"

My eyes narrowed. "What? No. I just expected the penthouse. That's what you chose for Audrey."

"It's not what I choose for you."

I tensed. She wasn't letting me forget she owned me now, and it cut through the numb haze that caged me.

I didn't know what to feel: nervous, terrified, determined to keep some autonomy, or aroused by the possibility of her hands on me. It became a mixture of all four, dancing along my skin as I got out of the car.

Jenn grabbed my bag from the backseat, and I followed her into the
house. It was larger than it looked from the outside. The back door entered into the kitchen, with steel appliances, gray granite countertops, and low lighting.

An office sat to the right of me, the cherry desk visible through the cracked door. Except for that and a small bathroom and laundry room to my left, the space was an open floor plan, with a staircase running upstairs. You could watch the flat-screen TV while standing at the island. It was simple, masculine, and comfortable.

I swallowed when she shut the back door with an unmistakable click. I was still in shock about this turn of events and didn't know how to process it completely, or at all. I was going through the motions while my thoughts lagged behind.

She dropped my bag into an armchair and then her keys on the kitchen counter. This place might look the epitome of comfortable, but I had no idea how I would ever feel that way in her space.

I stood planted next to the door, while she poured herself a drink from the minibar near the front windows. A strong feeling consumed me that if I moved, something would attack me maybe her. The curtains were closed, and only small shards of light got through, leaving the room dimly lit.