Page 86 of Broken Crown

In the underwater silence, I could almost pretend I was free.

Then—muffled through the water—Sebastian's voice. Calling my name.

The gold bars were already closing in around me.

CHAPTER 24

SABRINA

Rough hands grasped my shoulders and hauled me into a sitting position.

I came up sputtering as I swiped at the hair plastered to my face, water cascading from my nose and mouth, the shock of cool air against my wet skin raising goose bumps across my body.

"What the fuck, Sabrina?" Sebastian's outburst bellowed through the small bathroom, bouncing off the marble tiles in waves of fury and something else.

Panic?

Coughing, I shook my head as I gripped the slippery edges of the copper tub, my fingers sliding against the metal's patina.

My lungs burned, not from water but from the intensity of his stare.

Sebastian loomed over me, his brow furrowed, creating deep ravines across his forehead.

His crisp white shirt now translucent where it clung to his chest, the expensive Italian wool of his trousers darkened with bathwater.

I swiped again at the water on my face. "What?"

"I come in to check on you and find you trying to drown yourself in a goddamn tub."

The water had cooled, reality seeping in with the dropping temperature.

The soapy bubbles, now a wilted foam, floated on the surface.

I sniffed as I crossed my arms over my exposed breasts, nipples pebbling against my forearms. "I wasn't trying to drown myself."

Again ignoring his long sleeves, he dipped his arms into the water and grasped me around the waist, his hands spanning nearly my entire rib cage. He hauled me out of the tub as if I were nothing more than a doll, water sheeting from my skin.

I stood there shivering as water pooled at my feet on the slate tile, its gray-blue surface cool against my toes. Droplets traced paths down my thighs, between my breasts.

He returned seconds later with a large, fluffy towel the color of fresh cream, which he wrapped around me. The Egyptian cotton like cashmere against my sensitized skin.

He then rubbed my upper arms, the friction igniting warmth that spread. "Then what the hell was that?"

I shrugged and clutched at the ends of the towel, both appreciating and hating his touch—the same hands that had commanded pleasure from my body hours earlier now pretending to care.

"I…I don't know."

He swept me into his arms, my wet skin dampening his already soaked clothes. The hard planes of his chest pressed against my side as he cradled me against him.

"Jesus, woman. You're going to be the death of me."

He carried me into the living area and placed me in front of the roaring fire, embers popping and casting a honeyed glow across the rustic wooden beams. I gave a morbid laugh. "I could say the same about you."

He snatched a knitted blanket the color of burnt sienna from the back of the sofa and tucked it around me. The wool smelled faintly of woodsmoke.

"Don't move."

I knelt before the fire, staring into the orange flames that licked at the olive wood logs, but all I could see was the concern and anger on Sebastian's face—the momentary crack in his perfect control.