The hot water beats down on me from above, and my chest heaves at the vulnerable position. Not only am Inaked,I’mbound. When Max flips a clasp on the hunk of metal holding me to the wall, I understand that I’m not getting out until he lets me out.
“Max—”
“Shh. Let me enjoy this.” His hands clasp my waist. Slowly travel up my spine and to the back of my neck. He gives it a squeeze, and then, his touch disappears. For a moment, I almost feel bereft. I turn my head sideways in time to see him uncap a bottle, squirt a generous amount of shampoo into his hand, and walk over to me.
I feel overstimulated, hypersensitive, and horrifically off-balance. I havenoexperience with something like this—having a man touchme without the intent to deliver pain—and it’s almost more frightening than getting punishments from Dagon or one of his underlings. I know what to expect then; I’m quite used to the inevitable pain.Thisis new and completely unwelcome.
“Breathe,” Max says calmly, sliding his shampoo-covered fingers through my scalp. “I’m just washing your hair.”
“I can do it myself.” My voice is shrill.
“Can you?” he sounds amused. “You seem a bit constrained right now. But, if you manage to free yourself, be my guest.”
I take that challenge at face-value and jerkviolentlyat the chains. The link connecting my wrists is sturdy, but the hook on the tile might not be. I might be able to crack it with enough pressure—
It doesn’t budge. All I succeed in is straining my arm. I yank again, harder, when I hear a chuckle rumble from Max. He works the shampoo through my hair like I’m not fighting and writhing.
"That hook can withstand up to a thousand pounds of pressure,” he says cheerfully. “Pull all you want, Flame. You’re not going anywhere.”
“Urgh!” I yank and yank and yank until my limbs burn with exertion. “Why are you doing this to me?” I demand angrily.
“Because you’re mine,” he responds simply. “You always were, even when I assumed you’d died.”
I stop tugging, fury humming at my breastbone. Ihatebeing helpless—I can’t protect myself if I can’tmove.
“You done?” he asks, tipping my head back to let the shower spray wash the shampoo from my hair.
“Fuck you,” I mutter.
“All in good time, Flame. I don’t mind if you keep struggling. It makes your ass bounce.”
I go still as a statue immediately, and Max laughs. “You’re adorable.”
I make a face of disgust. “I’m menacing.”
“Sure you are,” he says soothingly.
“Iam,” I insist louder. “Do you know how many pretty-boys I’ve killed, motherfucker?”
“None as pretty as me.” He works a woodsy-smelling conditioner through the ends of my hair. “Your efforts were kinda hot, though. I think if it was a fair fight, you could’ve won.”
“Don’t pacify me!” I snap.
“Calm down.”
“I am fucking calm!”I shout.
“Uh-huh.” I can hear the smug smile in his stupid, infuriating voice.
My nostrils flare with anger as he finishes up with my hair. Then comes a musky body wash that he squirts directly on my back and rubs in with his hands. His fingers are strong and deft. He digs his thumbs into my shoulder muscles, massaging them, and a slight moan escapes my lips.
I hear his breath catch. He slides his hands down to my ass, cupping the globes firmly, and leans forward until his lips are right by my ear. My nipples are as hard as diamonds; my core feels strangely warm and…wet. Not just from the water.
“You should probably know this now, Ember,” he breathes. “I amverygood with my hands.” He spins me around abruptly, dazing me. I stare up at him, feeling small and vulnerable yet not necessarily unsafe. I don’t know what to think or how to feel. He’s twisting every expectation I have set in place for dealing with men.
“I’m going to touch the parts of your body you keep shielded from the world now,” he tells me bluntly. “It’s not meant to hurt or embarrass you. It is because I literally cannot keep my hands off you.”
I cannot keep my hands off you. Again, a rush of power flowsto my head.
