“I know you don’t want to. I know you will only ask for help when it’s the logical thing to do.”
“Is there something wrong with that?”
“When it comes to us, yes. You will ask me for help not just when you need help but when youwantit.”
“And what if I don’t want your help.” Nikolett bent, working the top closure of the cast. She tried to bend all the way to get the second one, but in one bare foot she was too off-balance and had to jerk upright before she toppled forward.
She expected to see Eric on his feet hovering, waiting to catch her. Instead, he was still casually seated on the edge of the tub, arms crossed over his bare chest. The towel had fallen partially open, exposing most of one thickly muscled thigh.
She could do this on her own—pull up her pants, walk back to the counter. Sit on it, put her foot up so she could easily reach the other clasps.
Or she could ask for help.
“Eric?”
“Yes, Nikki?”
“Would you please help me?”
He only nodded, no gloating, then crouched at her feet to undo the cast. He eased it off, then helped her step out of her pants.
Standing before him in the simple, everyday underwear, she wasn’t nearly as confident as she had been when dressed in matching lace.
“If you don’t take off those panties in the next thirty seconds, they’re going in your mouth as a gag.”
Nikolett stared at him, shocked and aroused. Eric arched a brow.
She scrambled to take her panties off, not wanting to be gagged. Then she took off the bra, throwing it to the side.
They stared at one another in silence for a moment before she reached up and undid her bun, tossing the hair tie and handful of hairpins onto the counter.
“Good girl.” He moved to stand behind her, taller and wider, making her feel delicate rather than small. Steam from the running shower billowed around them, giving the moment an almost-ethereal air. She watched him watch her.
“Why are you being punished?”
“Because I need it,” she answered without having to think.
“Nikki. My Nikki.” He leaned down, face in her hair, and inhaled. “I will always give you what you need when it comes to this.” He inhaled again, then looked up, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “I knew it was you.”
“When?”
“This morning. Before they took the bag off my head. I could smell you.”
Before she could worry about personal hygiene, he added, “I don’t know if it’s your shampoo or perfume, but I know that smell. I knew it was you.”
“That’s why you were smiling and didn’t look surprised.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, realizing she hadn’t apologized, “for having them kidnap you.”
“Don’t be. I’m not planning to apologize for what I’m about to do to you.” His hand slid up into her hair, for now just massaging her scalp. “Anything I need to know?”
“Please don’t slap me,” she whispered.
He froze.
“My face, I mean. Don’t slap my face. No belts or switches.” She didn’t think punches or kicks were used in these kinds of bedroom games, so she didn’t mention them.
