“It feels like armor,” she admitted.
“Trying to hide from me?”
Before she could tell him that no, she wasn’t trying to hide from him, he yanked her off the counter.
Her cast squeaked against the floor as he spun her, first putting her back to his front, then turning them both to face the large, low tub separate from the steaming shower. Above the tub was a massive guilt-framed mirror. Their images were reflected back from mid-calf up.
“This looks like you’re hiding from me.” Eric’s hands traced down her body, pressing her sweater hard against her flesh. “Covered from neck to toe.”
She wanted, desperately, to submit, but she couldn’t simply give in. It wasn’t who she was.
“Maybe I was cold.”
“If you’d stayed in bed where you should have been, you wouldn’t have been cold.”
“You may enjoy napping in the middle of the day, but I don’t.”
“I needed rest because I haven’t been able to sleep. I thought I lost the love of my life.”
Nikolett softened, leaning back into him. “The love of your life?”
“Yes.” His gaze met hers in the mirror. “One of the things I had to work through in therapy was the fact that I love you more than I ever loved either of my wives.”
Nikolett’s lips parted in shock, but he didn’t give her time to focus on that because a second later, he’d unbuttoned her pants and shoved them down to her knees.
Then he released her and stepped back, circling around to sit on the edge of the tub, so she was looking at him and her own reflection.
“Take off the sweater.”
Slowly, she obeyed, pulling it off while being careful of her balance, given her pants were trapped at her knees. He certainly liked using her own clothing against her.
Beneath the sweater, she wore a simple taupe bralette and black underwear.
Eric cocked his head to the side. “Why are you wearing underwear?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because when you’re alone with me, you wear nothing under your clothes.”
Nikolett swallowed hard.
“I’d like to say I’ll keep you naked, but that can get cold.”
She mustered some bravado. It wouldn’t do to make this easy for him. “And you decide what I am and am not allowed to wear?”
“When we’re alone. Yes.”
She looked at him, saw the gleam in his eyes that said this was half real, half a game.
“Strip,” he commanded.
His voice was just a bit deeper, just a bit rougher than normal. That was enough to make her panties wet.
Nikolett looked down at her pants and the cast. “This isn’t ideal.”
“You mean you’re going to have trouble getting undressed by yourself?” He raised his hands, palms up. “Then ask for help.”
She grimaced.
