Page 61 of Going Deep
“Um.” She glanced around, blinking in confusion. “No.”
“We’re in my apartment, over the club,” he told her, watching her face carefully. “How do you feel?”
“I don’t know.” She felt as though she were trying to think through a fog. “What happened?”
“You used your anxiety safeword, a little too late, it seems.” He shifted, arms tightening around her as he rose. “Let’s get a little more comfortable, and then we’ll talk about that.”
She lay quietly in his arms while he carried her into the bedroom, then through to the bath. He set her on a padded bench at the long marble counter, then crouched to unzip her boots and tug them off her feet. “Wait here, darling.”
She sat, feeling bemused and befuddled, until he returned with a couple of bottles of water. He opened one and handed it to her. “Drink,” he ordered, then opened the shower door and flicked on the taps.
He shot her a glance. “Ginger. Drink the water.”
She automatically obeyed, drinking slowly at first, then deeply when she realized how thirsty she was. By the time he’d stripped out of his clothes, the bottle was empty.
He urged her to her feet, tugging the blankets away to fall to the floor. “Into the shower,” he ordered, a hand on her butt to move her along, and she hissed as his palm brushed against the tender skin.
His lips quirked in a half-smile, and he pulled the shower door shut. But he said nothing, just tucked her under the warm spray and picked up a bottle of body wash.
“Um. I…” She swallowed hard when he sent her an inquiring glance. “If you have to go back downstairs…” she began, then trailed off at the look in his eyes.
“I’m exactly where I want to be,” he told her, and his tone had her mouth snapping shut.
He poured some body wash into his hands, the familiar woodsy scent filling the air as he worked up a lather. He stroked his hands over her skin, washing every inch of her. He even washed her hair, tilting her head back in the spray until the water ran clear.
She stood docile throughout, her mind still in a fog. He turned off the taps and dried her off with a fluffy towel, using a second one to dry her hair. He hooked a third around his waist and steered her into the bedroom.
He flipped the covers back. “In you go,” he told her, and she crawled between the sheets, exhaustion pulling at her.
He crossed the room to flick off the overhead light, then turned on the bedside lamp before sliding in beside her.
He tugged her into his arms, arranging her so she lay on her side, facing him. “Now, let’s talk about what happened.”
She sighed. “I panicked when I saw all those people watching.”
“You sure did.” He gathered her close as shivers raced over her skin. “You didn’t mark exhibitionism as a hard limit.”
She drew a shuddering breath. “No, I guess I didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“I like the idea of it,” she confessed. “Being on display. It’s sexy, in theory. And I thought I might get a little anxious, but not like…”
“Not like that,” he finished.
“Yeah.” She lifted her head to look at him. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.” His eyes were soft. “Is it something you want to work on, work through? Or should it stay ‘in theory’?”
She blew out a breath. “Right now it feels like it should stay ‘in theory’.”
He brushed a tear from her cheek. “Then right now it will.”
She managed a wobbly smile and snuggled deeper into his arms.
“Sleepy?” he asked softly.
“Not really,” she said. “I just feel kind of hollow. And little.” She tilted her head up so she could see his face. “Does that make sense?”
