Sarita stiffened at that thought, and then raised her head and turned in the shower. She spotted one almost at once. It was in the corner of the shower, recessed in the wall, but a tiny lens was just visible if you were looking for it.
Resisting the urge to cover her private bits, Sarita lowered her head, turned her back to the corner, and then stepped under the spray to rinse off. The moment she’d finished, though, she turned off the water and grabbed the towel she’d collected. Rather than dry herself with it, she simply wrapped it around herself toga-style.
Sarita glanced around the bathroom as she stepped out of the shower, spotting three more camera lenses as she did. There was one in each of the other three corners of the room.
“Nice,” she hissed under her breath.
Pretending not to have seen them, Sarita walked over and snatched up a hand towel off the rack to dry her hair as much as possible, then ran a quick brush through it before slipping out of the room.
A stop in the closet proved that it wasn’t magic and hadn’t suddenly produced real clothes for her. Heaving a resigned sigh, she went through what was available and chose a short, red-and-black lace-and-satin nightgown that at least had substance to its very short skirt.
“And that’s all it has,” Sarita grumbled once she had it on and saw that the lace top showed as much as it hid. She could clearly see the outline of her breasts, but at least a couple of strategically placed lace flowers mostly hid her nipples. Shaking her head, she didn’t bother with shoes, but hurried out of the bedroom in search of Domitian.
A search of the living room, dining room, and kitchen did not turn up Domitian. Though, she did spot more cameras, four in every room. She should have checked the bedroom too, but now supposed she needn’t bother. If the bathroom wasn’t sacred, the bedroom definitely wouldn’t be.
The office was empty too but also had cameras, Sarita noted as she rushed through it to make her way quickly downstairs. She didn’t, however, spot any in the room at the bottom of the stairs. Probably because the walls were stone and cameras couldn’t be recessed in them. Possibly also because the room was unpleasant, damp, and smelly. He wouldn’t imagine they’d do anything there.
Sarita was halfway across the floor before she noticed that the glass had all been cleaned up, but barely gave it a thought as she hurried into the abandoned lab.
“Domitian.” She scowled when she spotted him by the refrigerator. She’d started to worry that he’d been removed while she’d slept, and here he was chowing down on more blood, she thought with irritation as he removed an empty bag of blood from his mouth. The last of four, she saw, counting the empty bags already on the counter.
“Mi Corazon,” Domitian greeted with a smile as he tossed the empty bag next to the others and moved to meet her. As he walked his eyes dropped with appreciation down over the nightgown she wore.
Noting that his blue eyes grew more silver with each step and recalling that they’d burned a brilliant silver as he’d made love to her upstairs, Sarita began to back warily away. Putting her hand up, she said no firmly, her gaze skating around to find the cameras in the corners. Not in the walls this time, but recessed in the trim on top of the upper cupboards.
Eyebrows rising, Domitian paused and Sarita hesitated. She wanted to talk to him about Dressler and why they were there, but not around the cameras. She didn’t doubt for a minute that they recorded audio as well as video, and she didn’t want Dressler knowing what they were talking about.
“Not here,” Sarita said finally, and then tried on a pouty moue for the cameras that she suspected looked more like a grimace and said, “The floor is too hard.”
“Ah,” Domitian breathed, moving forward again. The silver had receded a bit in his eyes at her no but came surging back now, and Sarita’s body responded, producing liquid like Pavlov’s salivating dogs. Only her salivating was much lower and warmer.
“Come. We will go upstairs,” Domitian breathed, slipping his arm around her and urging her toward the door.
“Yes,” she muttered, unable to resist leaning into him as his hand ran down her side from her waist to her hip and lower, before sliding up under her nightgown to clasp one round cheek. It was only then Sarita realized she’d forgotten to hunt for a thong to wear under the skimpy gown.
“Oh boy,” she breathed, and then slipped away from his caressing hand and stepped determinedly in front of him as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Whispering so the cameras in the other room wouldn’t pick up her words, she said, “We need to talk,”
Misunderstanding her whispering, Domitian stiffened at once and glanced up the stairs. “Is someone here?”
“No,” Sarita assured him, patting his chest reassuringly. At least it started out a reassuring pat, but turned into a pawing pat. He had such a lovely chest she just couldn’t resist touching it.
“Mi tresoro? What is it?” he asked softly. Unfortunately, he also clasped her arms and then ran his fingers lightly up and down them as he waited.
The simple touch was very distracting and Sarita found herself shivering as it sent tingles slipping through her again. She didn’t even really notice herself inching closer to him until her nipples brushed against his chest through the lace top of her nightgown. Already semi-hard, they turned to stone then as excitement raced through her, and a little ahhh slid from her lips.
“Ah, Sarita. Besame,” Domitian breathed the demand that she kiss him, his head lowering toward her.
“No!” She turned her head abruptly away, scowling again with irritation at how distracting the damned man was. It was bad enough fending him off without her own body betraying her like this. “No kissing. I need to talk to you,” Sarita added quietly. “We have to get out of here.”
“Si,” he agreed. “Talk. I will listen.” Domitian began kissing her cheek, since that was all that was available to him, and then trailing his lips to her ear.
Sarita snapped her mouth closed to keep from moaning at the sensations his actions sent washing through her. She raised her hands to his shoulders, intending to push him back. Instead, she found herself clutching at him and arching as he nibbled on her tender lobe.
“Mi Amante,” Domitian breathed, his arms slipping around to cup her behind and lift her up against him so that he could pepper kisses down her throat. “Tu eres la mujer mas bella que he visto. Tue eres mi luz en la oscuridad.”
You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. You are my light in the dark, Sarita translated in her head and then shook it to try to force the love words out and concentrate. “I really—we need to talk,” she said breathlessly.
“Si,” he breathed, easing her back to her feet. “Talk.”
“Good,” Sarita said with relief and tried to gather her thoughts again.
“I like this nightgown,” Domitian murmured, one hand rising to toy with a nipple through the lace.
“That’s not very helpful,” Sarita growled as he caught the excited tip through the cloth and pinched it between thumb and finger. When his other hand then slid under the skirt of the nightgown again and clasped her bottom, Sarita was sure she was lost . . . until his fingers began a lazy meander around in front and along the top of her tender thigh. It was the first time she’d felt pain since cutting it. All she could think was that he’d unintentionally caught the skin of the cut and pulled it slightly. Whatever had happened, it was enough to help her fight off her attraction to him and pull back. When Domitian tried to follow, she slapped him sharply across the face and hissed, “Snap out of it! We have to talk about Dressler.”
Five
Domitian gave his head a shake and peered down at the little spitfire in front of him. Her face was flushed with desire, her lips full from his kisses, but her eyes were on fire with fury, passion, and despair. It was the despair that reached through his surprise and anger at her slapping him and brought on immediate calm.
They were in a tenuous position and needed to find a way out. The desire and need they were both obviously experiencing was playing havoc with their ability to do so, and they were both suffering under that desire and need. He could see it in Sarita’s face. But she was trying to fight it while he had followed his growing erection across the room, thinking only of plowing it deep into the woman presently trying to come up with a way to save them both.