Heat

I gently pushed the door open only to find freaking Hollis flicking off the water. My gaze slid to his hands, watching as blood swirled off of them and into the sink, getting diluted to pink before it slid down the drain.

He must have seen a movement in the mirror or simply sensed me there because his head turned toward me, eyes dark and intense.

"Good girl," he said, nodding at the gun pointed at him. "You do what you gotta do," he added, looking back down at his hands as he scrubbed at the blood.

"You were just going to let me lay on that floor, sick to my stomach that I was going to be raped and murdered while you washed your hands?" I hissed, lowering the gun to my side, realizing I was somehow shaking harder than I’d been behind the chair when I was scared for my life.

Hollis ignored that as he left the water on, but brought his hands to his shirt, flicking the buttons open. I felt an involuntary spasm of anticipation before he was shrugging off his shi