Page 72 of Hired Help

“Could you hold me?”

A second after I ask, he’s there, the mattress sinking under his weight again as his arms encircle my torso, turning me and pulling me into his embrace, removing my cuffs as he leans against the headboard.

His hand strokes my hair as I try to hold myself together. I don’t know where the avalanche of emotion came from or what further weight might tumble down the slope.

“You’re okay, Brooke. I’ll always take care of you.”

And he does, cradling me to his chest like I’m precious. His voice is soft, husky as he asks, “Can I do something more for you?”

I don’t know. My throat is dry, and my head gives a sickening thump. I don’t understand what’s happening at all.

“How about I tell you about my day?”

I hum in agreement, words still beyond me.

Daegan settles me more firmly within his grasp, his thumb brushing against my cheekbone where the blindfold sits in place. “First thing in the morning, I went to the coffee shop on Harris Crescent, where they have the city’s best coffee and a barista with a terrible memory and a habit of not writing down orders. It makes every cup an adventure, but I haven’t had a bad one yet.”

The story is softly soothing. “What did you order?”

“An Americano but I got a lovely flat white made with oat milk. Then I went to the gym and used up all that energy doing cardio.” His voice drops lower. “I hate cardio days. If I end up in hell, I’m sure they’ll have treadmills as soon as I get through the door.”

“I bet you looked hot.” My imagination is at the ready, placing him in scanty workout clothes, making his skin gleam with sweat.

“Of course, I looked hot. I ran for forty minutes. By the end, my face was so red it looked like I live on the sun.” There’s a brief pause as he rubs his cheek against my hair like he’s a cat rubbing his pheromones all over me. “After that, I went to an antique shop in Brighton to pick up some brass taps to match the ones in the garden, then spent a few hours swearing at my wrench. Just before midday, I had a choreography session. We’re adding new routines next month and it takes me ages to learn all the new moves and positions.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm. My brain sometimes feeds me directions the wrong way around, so until my body get so used to the movements that it automatically creates the right patterns, I look clumsy as hell.”

The image of him at the prom spills into my head. Him pulling a routine out of nowhere to the delight of the crowd. “Nobody would know that to look at you.”

He gently rocks me. “Then all my extra rehearsal time is well spent. But it’s also easier when I dance solo, and my audience are an impressionable bunch of teenagers.”

“Glad I made it easy on you.”

“You’ve never gone easy on me.” His low chuckle sends delicious vibrations across my skin. “Then I had a fitting for the new outfits, then I hurried home to make sure I’d be here in time for my favourite girl.”

His stroke along my arm slows. He cups my shoulder, restricting the movement to just his thumb.

“You’re so tense,” he murmurs when my silence stretches until I don’t know how to break it. “How about I draw you a bath, then wash every part of your body thoroughly?”

“That sounds nice.”

I finally sit up and take the blindfold off, uncertain if I should dress again while we wait for the tub to fill, or if I should just stay naked since I’ll have to take my clothes off again.

Daegan goes through to the bathroom, setting everything in motion, then comes back, leaning against the doorframe, looking at me with a tender smile on his face.

Nothing else. Just looking. Smiling.

It’s perfect and I don’t even know why.

A moment before his glance would become uncomfortable, he moves to the bed and scoops me into his arms. I tense, giving a little shriek, then laugh as he takes me into the bathroom and tosses me in the tub.

It doesn’t seem possible that we’ll both fit, but as he snuggles in behind me, the water stays a centimetre below the rim of the tub. He pours in some suds, splashing the water about to raise a nice head of bubbles, then lathers up a washcloth and cleans my body with long, languorous strokes.

The motion is seductive. I close my eyes as he cleans between my fingers, slowly moving up to my elbows before giving a tickling cleanse of my armpits. When he soaps across my breasts, my nipples react to the rough surface of the cloth, turning into hard peaks.

My mind returns to the room behind us where a machine waits for me. I have no idea what the contraption might look like or how it will work, but I know because Daegan picked it, whatever it does will feel good.

---