Cierra's right foot slammed down onto the black slate.
She didn't see the puddle of water Carlisle had just splashed over the edge of the tub.
The moment her stiletto heel hit the wet marble, all friction vanished.
Her ankle violently twisted inward. A sharp gasp tore from her throat as her center of gravity completely collapsed.
Cierra pitched forward, her arms flailing wildly in the air.
Carlisle's eyes snapped wide. His reflexes kicked in. He lunged forward, his large hands reaching out to catch her waist.
He was a fraction of a second too late.
Cierra crashed chest-first into Carlisle. The sheer momentum of her fall drove them both backward into the deep water of the Jacuzzi.
A massive plume of water exploded upward.
Cierra went under. The hot, chlorinated water rushed up her nose, burning her sinuses. Panic seized her. She thrashed blindly, her lungs screaming for air.
Her hands found solid muscle.
Pure survival instinct took over. Cierra clamped her hands onto Carlisle's bare shoulders. Her fingernails dug viciously into his skin as she hauled herself upward, breaking the surface of the water.
She gasped for air, coughing violently.
She was straddling his lap, her wet arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Her crisp white blouse was completely soaked, turning entirely transparent and clinging to her skin like a second layer.
For one agonizing second, Carlisle froze.
The weight of her body against his, the smell of her vanilla perfume mixing with the steam, the frantic beating of her heart against his chest—it short-circuited his brain.
But then, the toxic words from the email flashed behind his eyes.
She fantasized about making him crawl. She wrote him groveling on a desk.
Carlisle's vision went red.
In his twisted, furious mind, this wasn't an accident. This was the climax of her disgusting plan. She had thrown herself into the water, pressing her half-naked body against him to act out her sick fantasy of dominance.
A wave of absolute revulsion violently ripped through him.
Carlisle grabbed Cierra's wrists. His grip was brutal, bruising the delicate skin.
He ripped her arms off his neck.
With a harsh shove, Carlisle pushed her backward.
Cierra flew through the water. Her spine slammed hard against the unforgiving ceramic wall of the Jacuzzi.
Pain exploded between her shoulder blades. She gasped, her eyes flying open in shock.
Carlisle loomed over her, the water swirling angrily around his waist. His face was a mask of pure, unadulterated disgust.
"Save your cheap games," Carlisle hissed, his voice dripping with venom. "I won't be dragged into your twisted fantasies."
The words hit Cierra with the force of a physical blow.
The air vanished from the room. The burning pain in her back was nothing compared to the absolute devastation tearing through her chest.
He genuinely believed she was trying to humiliate him with some sort of perverse act. He looked at her like she was a disease he needed to scrub off his skin.
A hot tear spilled over Cierra's lower lash line, mixing with the pool water on her cheek.
She didn't say a word. Her throat was completely sealed shut by the crushing weight of her humiliation.
Cierra pushed her hands against the edge of the tub. She dragged her soaking wet body out of the water, her muscles shaking violently.
Her skirt clung to her legs. Water poured off her clothes, ruining the expensive wool carpet as she stumbled toward the door.
She left her high heels floating in the water.
Cierra didn't look back. She pushed the heavy glass door open and ran barefoot down the hallway, fleeing the penthouse like her life depended on it.
Back in the Jacuzzi, Carlisle stared at the empty doorway.
He looked down at the red half-moon indentations her fingernails had left on his shoulders.
His chest heaved. He waited for the satisfaction of putting her in her place to wash over him.
It never came.
Instead, a hollow, burning ache settled in his gut. He slammed his fist against the ceramic tiles, cursing himself for letting her affect him at all.
