Page 29 of Addiction

She suppressed another smile as she turned and strode toward the oversized sofa. It was such a simple thing—walking to sit down—yet, in the midst of their crazy connection, it had such pertinence. She ran her fingertips over the soft fabric as she took a seat in the middle of it. Looking up, she met his approving expression.

“Good girl.” His hands rose to his hips. “Remember where you need to stay while I’m gone?”

“Right here, sir.”

It was insanely erotic to slide into the role he wanted her to play. Ella had spent years not giving a damn what anyone else thought about her. That was why Tucker’s rules in the cabin had seemed so stark and preposterous, but sitting there in the daylight of his swanky apartment, she was happy to make him proud. Tucker’s dominance stirred something deep inside her, and now that she didn’t feel as though she had to constantly fight to get away, she wondered if she couldn’t get used to being his good girl.

“Okay.” His twitching lips conveyed his cynicism about her obedient performance, but he said nothing more on the subject. “I won’t be long.”

She watched as he strode from the room and turned left into the corridor. Without the distraction of Tucker, her concentration slid slowly around the lounge. The room had a calming atmosphere, aided, she suspected, by the enormous swathe of sunlight that spilled in from the vast windows behind her.

Settling back against the couch, she closed her eyes and leaned into the warmth of the light as though she were a flower. Whatever happened next—whether she stayed with him or eventually found her way home—she was ready to see more of the tender side of Tucker, the man who could grant compassion as well as captivity.

She grazed her palm over the fabric of the seat beside her, allowing herself to wonder, just for a moment, if that man was the one she could finally put her trust in.

Chapter Twelve

Discipline

Ella

Hearing his light tread on the carpet, her eyes flickered open to find him standing before her. If it was possible, she’d forgotten how absurdly tall he was in the short amount of time he’d been away. Dragging her focus along the length of his body, she noticed her pulse quicken its beat.

“Well done.” There was genuine affection in his tone as he neared. “You stayed where you were told.”

“Thank you, sir.” She resisted the urge to say she’d told him so, reveling instead in his praise and shining eyes.

“Look what I found.” He lifted his hand to reveal the black hairbrush. Fleetingly, she contemplated whether she should be worried that he’d brought the brush to a spanking, but then she recalled she was the one who’d asked for it.

“Thanks again.” She reached forward, expecting him to pass the brush to her, but instead, he hovered over her with an amused expression.

“Since I washed your hair, I’d like to brush it.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t seen that one coming, but she didn’t like to contradict his beaming smile. “Okay, sir.”

“I’ve never brushed anyone else’s hair before.” He confessed his inexperience as he took the seat beside her. “But I’d like you to be the first.”

What was she supposed to say to that? She’d never imagined a scenario like this—one where such intimacy could bloom with a man who’d been hard and unyielding to her—but then she could never have envisaged anything about the last few days. Tucker had been kinder to her since they’d left the cabin, taking care of her needs and bestowing untold pleasure, and she wanted to seize that momentum.

Ella searched his face for any sign of ill intent that he might hurt her with the brush, but she found nothing except his enthusiasm for the task at hand. Deciding that she needed to trust the gleam in his eyes, she nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“Sit on the rug for me.” He gestured to the soft white rug at their feet.

“On the floor?” Her brow furrowed as her heart hammered inside her chest.

Why does he want me on the floor?

“Yes.” His tone was sardonic but unhurried. “On the floor, little girl.”

She slid to her knees unthinkingly, her palms tingling as she settled into the pile of the rug.

“Turn around and face the door, please.” His hand glided along her damp locks, surveying her long hair. “Keep your hands in your lap, little girl. I have an important job to do.”

She shuffled into place, fighting to calm her racing heart as he pulled the brush from her crown and down through her damp hair.

“That’s lovely, sir.” She was surprised at how comforting it was to cede such a basic task, but as he tugged the bristles back through her tresses, she realized she was actually enjoying the closeness of the act.

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