I want peace.
“Easy now, Goldilocks, I think you’ve thrown enough punches. And judging by the state you’re in, we should probably take care of you first,” he says calmly, giving me a crooked grin, which only infuriates me more.
“Don’t tell me what to do. She… she called me a whore. She said I… that I killed Philipp. She… aargghhhhh!” I let out a frustrated scream and grimace in pain. “Ow, that hurts,” I whine, clutching my cheek and my eye. I flinch, yep, still hurts.
Nicolas raises an eyebrow at me, but when I start to whimper, his expression softens. He puts his hands on myshoulders, gently turns me around, and nudges me toward the bathroom.
“Come on, tiger, let’s clean you up and take care of your eye, then we’ll figure out the rest.” This time I don’t argue. I obediently shuffle toward the bathroom, then freeze when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
“Oh shit, I look like a mix of Chucky and Harley Quinn,” I blurt out in horror, wincing again. I’ve got a fat bruise under my eye and a swollen cheek. My curls are sticking out wildly, half-falling out of what used to be a classy updo, but worst of all is my dress. It’s torn and stained with blood.
Through the mirror, I catch Nicolas’s eye. He’s barely suppressing a grin.
“Yup, you’d be perfect for a horror movie, Goldilocks. Go shower, I’ll get you an ice pack for your eye. Go on.” He plants a kiss on the top of my head, just like that, and that small gesture makes my heart melt. So simple, but so full of meaning.
I swallow hard, nodding, trying not to show how much it touches me. I’m not used to this. It feels so good, and I soak it up like a sponge.
“Can you unzip the dress for me? I… well, I don’t want to destroy it completely.” I look down at what’s left of my once dreamy wedding gown with resignation. “Your mother’s going to kill me,” I murmur remorsefully. He chuckles softly as he gently brushes my curls aside. That rough, low sound vibrates through me, sending tingles over my skin and covering me in goosebumps.
Oh God.
His touch skims softly along my spine, and I shiver as he unzips the dress. It slips to the floor, and I’m standing in my underwear in front of him.
“Hmmm, I like the garter. I’ll have to take a closer look at that later,” he murmurs at my shoulder, pressing a kiss to it before disappearing.
Heaven help me.
My knees go weak, and my tipsy self can barely breathe.
Shower. I need to shower, I remind myself, and get completely undressed. Even the garter, though I’ll definitely put it back on afterward. Curiosity gets the better of me; I want to know if he’ll follow through. The desire to see it happen outweighs my prideful urge to resist, because deep down, I want this.
Nicolas gives me a feeling I can’t explain, it’s intoxicating and terrifying all at once. He makes me feel, he hurts me, he exposes me, but he also makes me soar, challenges me, pushes me out of my comfort zone.
Deep in thought, I step into the shower and wash away the blood and grime. As the hot water hits my aching muscles, I moan out loud.
God, that feels good.
Tomorrow, I’ll regret this night, but right now, with enough alcohol in my system, I don’t care.
When I’m done, I slip into my bathrobe, smiling to myself as I slide the garter back on. My stomach flutters with anticipation, just at the thought of Nicolas touching me again. The desire pulses deep within me.
Heaven help me, I’m definitely drunk.
Still unsteady, I leave the bathroom and stop dead in my tracks because my husband— oh my God, I’m actually married—is shirtless, standing in our dressing room in just low-slung sweatpants, searching for a shirt. My mouth goes dry, and I swallow hard. That ache deepens, and I clench my fists. He is…
Oh, damn it, I want him. Now.
But my eye and cheek throb badly, and it’s turning into a full-blown headache.
“There are two painkillers and the ice pack on the nightstand. I’ll be with you in a second,” he calls, distracted, not even noticing I’m staring at him.
Good.
I hurry over to our bed and immediately wince, since sudden movements aren’t really working for me right now, I’m feeling a bit unsteady.
I smile when I see the water, pills, and ice pack. It’s honestly sweet, the way he’s taking care of me.
“You’re supposed to swallow the pills, not just smile at them, Goldilocks,” his voice murmurs suddenly in my ear, and he pulls me back against him, my body leaning into his bare chest.
