Blaze didn't hesitate. He wrenched one of the knobs, sending a stream of cold water spraying from the showerhead.
"Get in," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I swallowed hard, my pulse roaring in my ears.
"I—I can do it myself," I stammered, desperate to keep space between us.
Blaze's eyes flicked up, something dangerous glinting in them. "You think I trust you to wash him off properly?" He reached for the hem of my shirt, his fingers grazing fabric. "Don't make me do it for you."
I flinched back violently, my breath catching in my throat. I can't let him see.
Blaze narrowed his eyes at my reaction, suspicion flickering across his face. My heartbeat pounded like a war drum in my chest as I forced myself to step back, bumping against the cold tiles of the shower stall. The icy water hit the floor with a relentless hiss, the room thick with humidity and something far worse—the weight of realization that I was running out of ways to hide.
