Page 54 of Saving Sophia

My cheeks burned, but somehow the embarrassment dulled with me hidden against his chest, wrapped in his jacket, secure in his arms.

I felt him shifting me as he pulled out his wallet and paid. Then cool spring air rushed over me. He must have opened a door and stepped outside. After a few strides across the parking lot, he stopped. I peeked out and saw his SUV. He tucked me inside and safely buckled me in before I could blink. I let myself pretend no one had even noticed.

Ethan walked around and climbed into the car. “How’s your tummy?”

“Okay.” I dropped my head in my hands. He must be wishing he never talked to me in that police station. “I’m so sorry, I?—”

“Hush. None of that now.” He handed me a bottle of water. “Drink some of this, then keep your eyes closed. We’re going home. We’ll clean you up. And then we’re going to talk.”

I took a sip, closed my eyes and rested my head against the cool glass of the window. Home. He called it home. But he also said we had to talk. What was there to say that wouldn’t end in him asking me to pack up and get out?

When the car finally came to a stop and he shut off the engine, I cracked my eyes open. At least my tummy had stopped churning and my head felt less fuzzy.

“Where’s Callie?” I asked when he opened my door, unbuckled me, then lifted me up in his arms again. His embrace was so warm, so safe and comforting. I couldn’t help curling in against his broad chest and burying my face deeper into the folds of his jacket still draped around me. The embarrassment of being carried faded, replaced by a longing I didn’t recognize.

“She’s well looked after, I’m sure.” He brought me into the cabin, through to the bathroom and set me gently down onto the counter, pulling his jacket up and around me before turning to the tub.

A deep, old-fashioned, copper claw-foot tub sat on a pedestal next to the shower. He turned on the water and started pouring something that smelled like tropical flowers and summer rain into the basin. The water sloshed, and bubbles began building up in white soapy peaks.

While he adjusted the water, I grabbed my toothbrush and scrubbed the taste of stress and retched-up margarita out of my mouth. Shame combined with the general awfulness of my situation, making my heart race.

I dropped my toothbrush back on the counter, swigged and spit some minty mouthwash, and forced a shaky breath.

He left the tub and stood in front of me, his gray eyes mesmerizing. “How are you feeling? Are you still woozy?”

My cheeks burned, and I dropped my head. With the alcohol buzz gone, all that remained was the humiliation. “I’m okay. I guess. I … got it out of my system.”

He stroked my cheek. I leaned into it, surprised. His fingers curved around my chin and tilted it up until I looked into his eyes again.

“I’m so sorry. I ruined?—”

“Shh.” He tapped a finger against my mouth. “I want you to listen. Carefully. We talked about what I want. A sweet submissive girl I can take care of.”

I blinked, trying to focus on his words. The humid heat from the tub made his hair curl slightly at the tips over his fade, adding to his generally tousled yet controlled look.

“I don’t do casual,” he added.

I wrapped my hand around his wrist, daring to connect with him, to hold onto him. What was he saying?

“So I need to know what you want.” He traced his finger along my jaw, sending little electric pulses from where he touched me to the base of my spine and up through the top of my head.

“What I want?” My words came out hazy, even though I felt sober. I pressed my lips together, barely comprehending his words. He wanted to know what I wanted?

“You don’t have to decide everything right now,” he said. “I don’t mind taking my time. But I want to take care of you. I want to undress you and bathe you and take control so you can let go.” He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “If I misread this, or you changed your mind, say so, and I’ll leave you to your bath.”

He took a half-step back, giving me the space to choose. His hands fell to his sides, and my body wilted at the loss of our connection.

This was it. He was offering me a way out. Or a way in.

He stepped over to the tub, shut off the water, then returned to me, still leaving that bit of space between us. “Tell me what you want.”

Heat flushed in my tummy. I could feel my belligerent tongue tangling. He asked what I wanted, and I had no idea what nonsense might come out of my mouth.

“I … want …” I swallowed. Took a breath. Amber Jade hovered in the back of my mind, her eyes wide with suspense.

For once in your life, spit it out right. Say what you want.

My mouth opened, closed, opened again.

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