Whether you’re good or not, I will claim you. The only choice you have is how much it will hurt.
SEVENTEEN
At sunset, I drag myself up the stairs like a broken-down workhorse, every muscle in my body screaming for mercy. The dust coating my hair is so thick I could pass for a freshly dug corpse. Scratches burn along my forearms, still fresh from tussling with that psychotic rooster. The bastard drew blood over his precious eggs.
My back aches from hunching over cellar stairs I suspect haven’t seen bleach since the house was built. The stone steps were slick with God knows what, and I spent an hour on my hands and knees scrubbing grime that multiplied the harder I worked.
All this to stay hidden from the feds. Every blister, every bruise, every bit of backache is the price of not getting dragged back in cuffs or in a body bag.
I only managed a quarter of the list before my body collapsed. And the worst part of it all is that I’m being played. Mr. Rochester said it was a few tasks. Now I’m a full-time servant doing the work of ten. If I refuse, will he replace me with someone else? Probably.
Shit. I need to wash off the day before I lose mymind.
After pushing open my bedroom door, I trudge into the bathroom, which feels like a sanctuary after today’s household hell. I peel off my ruined uniform and grimace at the new bruises blooming across my knees and shins. The black dress is torn at the shoulder seam, stained with dirt and what I’m pretty sure is chicken shit.
“Fuck that bastard,” I mutter under my breath, although I’m not sure I’m talking about Rochester or the rooster.
I turn on the shower, step under the spray, and grab the soap. The hot water pounds against my sore shoulders, washing away layers of grime and sweat. A groan escapes from deep in my chest, and I let my muscles sag. Steam rises around me like a protective cocoon, and for the first time all day, something feels good.
Tipping back my head, I soak my hair and lather up my aching muscles. The soap’s lavender scent fills my nostrils, making me feel almost human. Tomorrow, I’ll tell Mr. Rochester the workload is too heavy, but not so much that we need to bring in another employee. New people mean more chances of getting exposed.
Just as I reach for the shampoo, the lights cut out.
Darkness swallows the bathroom whole. My heart slams against my ribs, and my fingers go limp. I fumble for the shower tap, skidding on the dropped soap. The water continues to pound down on my back like torrential rain.
Before I can turn off the spray, a large hand covers mine.
“Relax.”
The voice is deep. Commanding. Familiar. I swallow back a scream.
Strong hands settle on my shoulders, thumbs pressing into the knots of tension along my neck. The touch is firm,confident, like he owns my body and knows exactly how to handle it.
“Who—” I start, but he cuts me off with a low growl.
“Hush.” His breath heats my ear. “You’ve had a long day. And I know exactly what you need.”
Every survival instinct screams at me to run, to fight. But my muscles go rigid. The hands on my shoulders know exactly where to touch and how much pressure to apply. I melt under his touch like butter in a hot pan.
“Isn’t it better for both of us when you’re obedient?” he murmurs, working his thumbs deeper into my knots.
Hot water cascades over us both. His hard chest presses into my shoulders, and his hard cock presses into my back.
“Edward?” I groan.
“Rochester,” he growls, his voice rough.
Heat pulses through my core at the sound of his name. There’s no question of the masked man’s identity. It was him. And now, Mr. Rochester is naked in my shower.
He slides his hands down to my shoulder blades, massaging away the tension. Each touch sends sparks racing through my nervous system, and I arch into him like a cat in heat.
“Such a good girl, helping out with the house. You worked so hard today,” he murmurs against my neck, his lips ghosting against my skin. “I’m impressed.”
The praise hits me like a drug, flooding my heart with warmth. When was the last time someone called me good? When was the last time someone appreciated my efforts instead of just demanding more?
“I tried to do everything on the list,” I say, my voice breathy.
His mouth moves to the spot where my neck meets my shoulder, and I shiver despite the hot water. “That’s my obedient girl. You’re finally learning your place.”
