The door opened. He walked out without a stitch of clothing on, closing the door. She waited for the click of the lock; afraid he'd shut her in the room alone for the night and hoping he would because being around him only confused her. When the door remained unlocked, she hurried to find something to sleep in and took off all her clothes.
Her panties landed on the floor.
The door opened.
Brage's gaze lowered to her toes and crawled back up her body. "Come on."
She crossed her arms over her bare breasts. "I'm not dressed yet."
"You're not supposed to dress." He stepped naked over to the dresser and threw her a towel. "Wrap that around you."
Heart hammering, she clung to the towel, tucking the edges above her breasts. "I'm not going out there like this."
"Listen, Dinah. My shoulders are killing me." He slipped his hand underneath her elbow and pulled her toward the door. "Since I can't leave you alone, you're going with me."
"But—"
"Enough. It's been a long fucking day. I need this." His hand tightened on her arm.
Naked as the day he was born, he guided her down the hallway to the other side of the second floor. Embarrassed at the lack of clothing on her in front of the others, she hurried to follow him, keeping behind his broad body.
He stopped outside a door. She glanced back counting the rooms. He hadn't taken her to the bathroom.
Brage swung open the door. She recognized the wood-lined room with benches for its intent. Slag Motorcycle Club had a sauna in the clubhouse.
Nothing about Slag surprised her anymore.
Stepping inside, she hugged the towel to her body. Someone must've used it recently because humidity hung in the air.
Brage picked up a dipper full of water and sprinkled it over a shallow metal box of rocks. Steam hissed, and he sat down on the wooden slated bench.
Already having a hard time breathing with him strutting around with no clothes, the hot air compressed down on her.
"Sit before you pass out." Brage let his head fall back against the wall.
His thick, strong legs gave new meaning to the word manspread. All the women complaining about how much room a man took up when sitting hadn't seen Brage. He had enough junk between his legs, he took up more property than most men when he sat.
Thinking he was right and she would faint at any second, she took the bench adjacent to him on the side of the room to keep an eye on him. She trusted him less when he was naked. Or, maybe she trusted herself less.
He'd kidnapped her. All attraction to him should've died away the second he installed locks on the other side of the bedroom and refused to let her leave.
The towel quickly became too much on her overheated body. Sweat formed between her breasts and ran down the corner of her temple. She wiped her forehead off with her hand.
Her eyeballs dried in the heat. She blinked rapidly feeling panic set in. The door remained closed.
Brage sat watching her. The air suffocated her.
"Inhale deeply," he said softly. "It's only air. Your chest will relax."
That was easy for him to say. He seemed perfectly content to walk naked through the clubhouse with others around and had apparently used the sauna many times before. Meanwhile, she felt drugged.
But that was impossible. The only food and drink she'd consumed were at the bar, and she'd hung an order slip on the wheel as if she were a customer. Peach wouldn't have known it was for her. That's how paranoid she'd grown throughout the day.
She leaned over and hung her head, hoping the rush of blood would snap her out of the fright circling her.
"When I was a young boy, I lived in Norway. I always remember walking out to the sauna—back home it was separate from the house—and getting warm and sleepy before bedtime. Then, my parents would walk my sisters and me outside, and we'd lay in the snow."
She kept her eyes closed. "Naked?"
"Ja." He chuckled. "It's better not to cover your skin. Healthier for you."
Panting, she pulled at the top of the towel and let the material fall from her body. The rush of air on her skin was like a balm to her overheated body.
"Better?"
She nodded, hugging her middle. Anyone could walk in. Having been around the Moroad bikers more than Slag, she assumed finding a naked woman inside the clubhouse would be like putting a sign around her neck that she was free for the taking.
She was not free.
"One more time." He stood, sticking the dipper into the bucket, and sprinkled the water over the hot rocks.
The instant steam that erupted had her pressing her back against the wall, forgetting about her naked body. She only wanted to put distance between her and the heat, which was rolling in her direction.
He sat down beside her instead of taking the other bench. She squinted straight ahead but not before she caught a glance at him. His long hair hung wet past his shoulders, and his cheekbones were flushed.
She couldn't move. It was physically impossible. "My skin feels tight."
"Ja," he murmured. "Do you trust me?"
"No." Her answer was instant. "Not at all."
"Fair enough. But, when we're done in here, you're going to thank me."
She turned her head and looked at him. "Why?"
"Because you're going to sleep like a baby. No dreams." He rotated his neck, tilting his head side to side.
"I don't dream." She wasn't willing to share that part of herself with him.
"If you say so," he mumbled.
She had a hard time believing that getting hot and sweaty would help her relax enough to sleep when he would be in the locked room making sure she couldn't escape. The steam had obviously made him delusional
Or, maybe he'd always been crazy, and she'd failed to notice because at the time he
