I hurriedly grasp at any notion that could explain my reaction. When my gaze lands on the bed frame, I blurt out an answer. “I’m wondering where I’m going to sleep tonight, and if it’s my room, do I have to be tied up or not?”
He stops the gentle caress on my lower back. “Where do you want to sleep?”
With you.
I press my lips together to keep from saying that thought aloud. Maximus doesn’t want me here with him, and I shouldn’t want it either. Yet the feel of our bodies flush, connected in a way that goes beyond words, is something I don’t want to end.
“Anywhere that doesn’t require me to be tied up,” I say.
There’s a small lilt in his voice when he speaks; maybe it’s even the hint of a forthcoming smile. “I can understand that.”
I scoff. “I doubt you’ve ever been secured to someone’s headboard.”
“No, I can’t say I have.”
There’s definitely amusement coating his tone, making him sound more carefree than I’ve ever heard him. It’s…nice. What does he look like when he’s like this? I take a chance to find out and lift my head to see his lips tilted in a smirk. My heart thunders in my chest.
“Well,” I say with a sigh, “take it from me when I say it’s not a comfortable way to sleep.”
He nods as though in slow motion, but he’s no longer with me; mentally he’s elsewhere. I wish I could follow him and discover his hidden thoughts, the ones he doesn’t share with anyone, maybe not even himself. Human beings are complex creatures, and our subconsciouses aren’t always brought to the forefronts of our minds. With Maximus, I sense layers of buried emotions he has yet to acknowledge or even experience. And I’m sure the same could be said about me.
“Come on,” he says. “Get up.”
His command shatters the serenity of the moment, and I’m quick to leave the bed but not only that; I have to leave what transpired between us there too. I can’t take that intimate time with me unless I want it to destroy the walls I’ve built to protect myself.
I make my way around the bed and head toward the door, eager to escape. There’s a bathroom connected to my room, so that’s my destination. I need to wash Maximus from my body. And mind, if possible.
I’m so caught up in my objective I jump when the door slams in my face. Maximus removes his hands from the wood to plant them on my shoulders and spins me to face him. After that he positions his palms on either side of my head, caging me, and I stare up at the scowl on his face.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he asks.
“To my room. I thought you were done with me.”
His eyes narrow to little more than slits. “Did I tell you to leave?” I shake my head and then suck in a breath when he puts his knee between my legs, parting them. “You have my cum running down your thighs, my marks on your neck, and my sweat on your body, so you’re not going anywhere.”
He peels himself from me, straightens to clamp a hand on my wrist, and leads me to the bathroom. Once there, he takes my chin, and my gaze darts to his. “Don’t move.”
I nod and then wait. In the time I stand there, self-conscious from everything that’s transpired, Maximus removes his clothes, turns on the shower, and then returns to me. I reach for my zipper, and he arches a brow until I drop my hand. Like I’m fragile, he takes off my dress, stopping to stare at the stain on the material. He swings his gaze to me, and the possessiveness within has my lungs collapsing. It’s gone in a wink, and then once I’ve removed my bra, he’s guiding me into the shower.
With my bottom lip between my teeth, I stand there without an inkling of what he wants me to do. Until he tells me to wash him. My hands tremble the entire time, and not once do I look him in the eyes. He’s gorgeous, sin made flesh.
Maximus doesn’t utter a word when I tend to him, and I’m relieved as soon as I’m done. I find that touching him would be enjoyable if it were initiated by me, not ordered by him. But when he touches me? I have yet to truly hate it.
“Don’t ever cut your hair.”
His voice breaks through my thoughts. “Okay.”
He takes a wet strand and tucks it behind my ear. “I mean it. You can get it trimmed, but I’ll be pissed off if you cut it. Now turn around.”
I sway out of pure rapture when he begins to wash my hair. He steadies me, muttering under his breath, but I don’t hear him. All I can concentrate on is how glorious this feels. Maximus cleans my hair and my body, and by the time the shower is done, I’m an emotional mess. What he did to me was just as intimate as, if not more than, sex to me.
In a daze, I watch him drag a towel over every inch of my skin and then hand me a large shirt. The scent of him reaches my nose, and I inhale deep while getting dressed. Once again, Maximus, now wearing nothing but shorts, takes my wrist and tugs me toward the bed. With a resigned sigh, I crawl onto the mattress and position myself where the ties should go, staring up at the ceiling while willing myself not to show emotion. Disappointment tugs at me, and I don’t want to examine why. Did I really think sex would change things between us?
There’s innocence, and then there’s ignorance.
Maximus gets into the bed, and I brace myself, already feeling the pressure of the restraints. “Would you like me to be under the covers first, sir?”
“I’m not tying you up.”
