Chest Heavy With Darkness

Sienna

I walk back into the bedroom and close the door.

I look around, take in the sophistication of the place and for all its beauty, it's sterile. Cold. Too clean and impersonal. Only the rumpled sheets and the smell of sex make it less clinical.

I walk into the bathroom, glancing at the lights of the strip as I go. The bathroom is big and it's the only room without windows for walls. I lock the door behind me although I don't think I need to. He won't come in.

It smells like his aftershave and I wonder if he ever has women here because everything is so masculine.

Switching on the shower, I step beneath the flow. Even his soap, when I lather it, smells like him. Like he's in here with me.

"You're safe."

For some reason, being here, in his shower, in his room, in his bed, I feel safe. Which just goes to tell you how screwy my radar is.

It's not that he's not dangerous. He is. But not to me. At least not right now.

Tonight, I don't have to double-check the locks. Test every window.

Ci