Page 53 of Bloody Lace

But—I read the message again, and I can’t help but be curious. I imagine she just wants to get a better look at the woman her ex-fiance married, maybe even take the opportunity to chew me out again…but she might be genuine in wanting to apologize. She was obviously caught off guard at the party, and lashed out. Maybe she does feel badly about it.

Maybe she just wants to clear her conscience before the new year, so she can start fresh, unburdened of her old relationship and the baggage that came with it.

I can understand that. There’s a lot that I’d like to leave behind in this year that I’m going to be taking with me into the next one. And while I know Dimitri would want me to decline the invitation at best, surely I can still make my own decisionswhen it comes to things like this. There’s no harm in going to have lunch with Nicci, so long as I take Gus with me.

Dimitri wants me protected. He won’t want me to talk to his ex-fiancee, but that’s because he dislikes her. He wouldn’t understand why I might be curious to talk to her, or why I might agree to the lunch.

I’m curious about her, too. About what it was that put Dimitri off so thoroughly. And so I pick up my phone again, quickly texting back.

Evelyn:I could do lunch. When and where?

Nicci:What about the Rose? It’s a nice bistro on 23rd. Tomorrow at one?

I texther back that that’s fine, and she lets me know she’ll make a reservation. It’s easy and pleasant, and even though I know Dimitri would make a fuss, I can’t imagine that there’s anything actually wrong with it. A small voice in the back of my head warns that I shouldn’t keep anything else from him, not after what happened yesterday, but the larger part of myself can’t stomach the idea that I have to run every single one of my plans by him now.

As long as I take Gus, it’ll be fine.

After a few hours, I finish my second coffee and pack up, hoping that Dimitri might have left for his dinner by now. The ride back to the penthouse is quiet, and I wonder how long it will be before I can fill my days with work again, before overseeing the renovations and guiding them will take up all my time and I’ll be able to focus on that again. For all that I’ve been burning the candle at both ends for years, not having anything to do at all is much worse.

The penthouse is empty when I get back. I undo Buttons’ harness and let him run free, watching as he curls up in the spot on the couch that he’s clearly claimed as his. Dimitri has left a selection of take-out menus for me this time, and I try not to let myself make too much of the gesture as I thumb through them.

An hour later, I sit by the window and watch the city lights as I eat herbed chicken over truffle risotto and drink a glass of white wine, and I remember how I felt when I shopped for my wedding dress. I told myself that I should enjoy the luxury while I had it, and although things between Dimtri and I have become more strained since then, it’s still true. There’s no reasonnotto enjoy what I have right now, just because the man who owns it all is regularly pissing me off.

With that in mind, I toss out my takeout container when I’m finished eating, pour myself another glass of white wine, and go upstairs to change into a swimsuit before throwing a coat over it and heading up to the hot tub on the roof.

I’ve only ever been in a hot tub once before, when Dahlia took me along with her and a bunch of her other friends in college on a weekend away to Lake Tahoe. Then, it was loud and chaotic, a gaggle of drunken college-age girls all laughing and gossiping. Tonight, it’s quiet and peaceful as I walk up onto the roof, the steam from the sunken in pool where the hot tub is rising into the cold night air.

The rooftop is entirely taken up on one side by the larger pool, stretching from end to end, flush with the edge of the roof. Further back, there’s a bar built into a wall, and lounge chairs stretched between it and the small, square hot tub sunken up against the opposite edge of the roof. To the far left, there’s a half-moon of chairs facing a large stone fireplace.

I walk to the lounge chair closest to the hot tub, taking off my boots and coat in the last possible second before quickly walking to the edge of the water. The cold hits me like a slap, taking mybreath away for a moment before I step into the blissfully hot water.

I can feel my muscles relaxing as I sink into it, pleasure washing over my skin as I slide down to my shoulders, the hot water lapping at my collarbones. It feels incredible, and I close my eyes, reaching up to pull my hair up on top of my head in a messy bun as I lean back against the edge.

Thisis perfect. It’s exactly what I needed. The tension drains out of me, and the water soothes my still-sore ass, the skin stinging a little where I’m sitting on the hard stone bench beneath the water, with only the thin fabric of my bikini bottoms to protect me.

That sting reminds me of what happened yesterday. Of Dimitri’s stern, accented voice telling me to bend over the desk. Of the snap of leather as he slid his belt off. A shiver runs through me that has nothing to do with the chilly air, prickling along my exposed skin as I bite my lip, trying not to think about what came after.

About his hand, sliding over the curve of my hip. His cock, pressed against my entrance. His fingers against my clit.

How he felt thrusting into me. Filling me. How it felt better than anything I’ve ever experienced before.

My teeth sink into my lip, and my hand grazes my thigh, an ache taking up residence between my legs at the memory. It felt sogood. I never knew sex could feel like that. I never knewanythingcould feel like that.

I didn’t know something like that could turn me on. The bite of the leather against my skin. The hot, stinging pain that seemed to jolt straight down to my clit as the strokes built, making me ache to be touched. The feeling of being humiliated, vulnerable, turning me on even as it made me want to cry and beg for it to stop.

It’s confusing, and I wish I could talk to someone about it. Dahlia, maybe—but I can’t, because she’d kill Dimitri if she knew he laid a hand on me, whether I ultimately liked it or not.

Whether I wanted him to do it again or not.

Do I?It doesn’t matter, really—I can’t let it happen, regardless. Once could be a mistake, anything more than that, and that part of the deal that I made Dimitri agree to is all but worthless. We’ll start finding excuses to let it happen more and more, and I know what will happen to me then.

I’ll fall for a man that I should be horrified by. That I should want to run from. And I’ll get my heart broken.

But if I could?—

My fingers tease the edge of my bikini bottoms, slipping just under the fabric. Even my outer folds feel sensitive to the touch, and I suck in a breath when I slip my fingers between them and find myself slick and wet for reasons that have nothing to do with the water. I slide them up, my fingertips brushing against my swollen clit, and a moan escapes my lips.

There’s no one out here to hear me. No one to see. I let my legs slide apart, my hips arching up into my hand, my fingers rolling over my clit in tight, quick circles that mimic the way Dimitri touched me while he fucked me. Andgod, the way he fucked me.

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