I took the first set of stairs and climbed. Up. Up. All the way until there were no more stairs. I think I was on the third floor. I was a pro at figuring out which room Kai would want me in. I followed the hallway all the way to the back and went into the last bedroom. It was large, with its own sitting room and a library nook. A person could sit there and literally reach forward for their next book. The attached bathroom—shared with another bedroom—had a glass-walled shower big enough for four people to have a dance party. This would be my room.

I searched for the liquor cabinet. Not finding one, I went to the room across the hall, the one I shared a bathroom with. In the back corner, I found it. I reached for a bottle, not caring what it was. Pushing off the cap, I tipped my head almost at the same time.

I was guzzling it before I even left the room and entered mine.

The men were coming inside. I could hear their voices below. The aroma of pizza wafted up to me, and that meant one thing: I needed more alcohol in my system.

I did not want to feel this self-hatred.

I was weak. I was an embarrassment to the ideals I’d dedicated my life to: helping others, saving others, protecting others. I was with a man who violated all of those principles, and I should run. I could run now, but I didn’t. I knew I wouldn’t.

I would give in when he came to me. I almost had to. There was a yearning deep down. I craved Kai. I needed my first fix. I needed to feel him inside of me, claiming me, fucking me.

I sank to the floor, still clutching that bottle.

A part of my mind was still thinking clearly, a small part, but it was fast disappearing. I knew I was having a breakdown. Maybe it was from everything or just from that man on the plane, or the fact that there was a man on a plane and everyone acted like it happened every day!

I was losing it.

Clambering to the toilet, I cleaned out whatever I’d had in my stomach. Maybe breakfast from a day ago? Would that still be there?

The bottle in hand, I struggled back to my feet. Good. The more blitzed I was, the better. Though, I was more unsteady because I’d lost everything in my stomach, not from the drinking. Shedding my clothes, I stepped into the shower. I knew I couldn’t wash it off of me, but damn if I wasn’t going to try. I found everything I could’ve asked for. Shampoo. Facial cleanser. Even a toothbrush in a package.

But I only needed booze, and I chugged down another shot.

It didn’t help.

I was dirty, inside and out. I’d never get myself clean, but I would try. Lord help me, I was trying. I scrubbed at my arm when someone stepped into the doorway. They could see me through the see-through glass, but I didn’t care.

I knew who it was.

I raised my head and squared my shoulders.

He could see every inch of my body, and his eyes roamed. My breasts. My stomach. My pussy. My legs. Back up to linger on my pussy. A new level of self-loathing exploded inside me, because an ache for him was forming. Again.

I felt heated, my breathing hitched.

When he looked at my breasts, they hardened. My nipples craved him touching them, covering them. His eyes were black now, his lust showing. He parted his lips before he tugged his eyes up to meet mine.

I ached.

And I bit my lip because I tried not to let him see.

But he did.

He stepped forward, shedding his clothes as he came. He prowled. He stalked me.

His muscles rippled. God, those muscles. I was in a shower, and my mouth dried at the sight. That said everything. Every inch of him was defined, all the way to his stomach and past when he pushed his pants down. He dropped them on the ground, lifting his feet clear.

He toed off his shoes and socks. I knew he had a gun. But I didn’t know where it was.

He paused right before coming into the shower, his boxer briefs still on, and he waited. He waited for me.

He was giving me this decision.

I stopped thinking. Stepping out of the shower spray, I walked to him. His eyes never left mine, and they grew hungrier with every inch of space that disappeared between us. I stopped right before him.

My body was slick.

His chest lifted in a slow breath. He still didn’t move. He waited.

And then I lifted the bottle, took a last swig, and handed it over. He took it, set it behind him in the sink. And he waited again.

My chest rose, a small motion as I filled my lungs once, then closed the distance.

His heat. He was power. I’d felt it before, but not like this, not when I knew he was going to be inside of me. My breasts touched his chest. My hand skimmed down his side, following the dips and rises of his muscles until it came to his waistband, that one last bit of a barrier between us. My lips grazed over his shoulder as I began to push his boxer briefs down.

His mouth found mine, and that was it. He took command. Demanding.

He picked me up, walking back into the shower, and my hand found him. My fingers wrapped around his cock, and I held him as his tongue swept into my mouth.

He wasn’t inside me yet, but I still felt him. He pushed all the darkness away. It didn’t matter in that moment that he was the reason it was there in the first place. He claimed me, and if I were being honest, I would’ve admitted he’d claimed me long ago.

He pressed me against the shower wall, and I wound my legs around his waist.

Our mouths opened over each other, and I groaned, my fingers tightening over him.

A rush of air left him. He pulled back just enough to growl, “If you don’t put me inside you in the next second—”