Page 87 of Going Deep
“What’s wrong?” she asked, amused. “Were they half a millimeter out of alignment?”
He shook his head, pulling the rope from around her legs with a faint scrape against her soft skin. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, I’m not going anywhere,” she quipped, then the look on his face penetrated her fuzzy brain. He looked wrong, was all she could think. All the humor had been stripped from his expression, and his eyes, those wonderfully expressive eyes, were just…blank. “Michael?”
“I’m calling the scene,” he said flatly.
Panic filled her chest. “Did I do something wrong?”
Some of that awful blankness eased, and he shook his head. “No, darling, not you. I’m going to help you sit up. Move slowly, okay? You won’t have much balance without the use of your arms.”
She let him help her up, unable to do anything else with her hands tied behind her back. “Are you okay?”
He reached for the knot between her breasts and just for a moment, his eyes met hers, and she stared in shock. The brilliant green had turned dull and dim. “Let me get you out of this, and I’ll explain.”
“That’s not an answer,” she pointed out.
A smile ghosted around his mouth. “No, I guess it’s not. This might be a little uncomfortable,” he warned as the ropes around her chest loosened.
The rush of blood into constricted tissues wasn’t pleasant, but she barely noticed. He walked around to work on the ties on her arms, dispatching them quickly, then gently eased her arms in front of her again.
“All right?” he asked, massaging her shoulders. “Any soreness here?”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, dismissing the slight twinge without hesitation. She reached for his hands, drawing them off her shoulders and clinging to them. They felt stiff and cold, not like Michael’s hands at all. “You’re kind of scaring me, here.”
“I can see that,” he said, an apology in his eyes. “I’m sorry for that, too.”
“Just tell me what’s wrong.”
“Let’s sit,” he said, and boosting her off the table, led her to the sofa against the wall. “Do you want your dress?”
She didn’t, but she wanted something. It felt weird to be naked at the moment. He’d taken to keeping a pair of lounge pants and a sweatshirt in his toy bag for her, for post-scene comfort, so she got those and pulled them on, then snagged two bottles of water out of the mini fridge and took them back to the sofa with her.
He smiled when she handed him one. “Taking care of me?”
She shrugged. “You’ve done it for me plenty of times.”
“Thanks.” He twisted the cap off, took a drink. “I’m sorry about this.”
“Don’t be sorry,” she said, fighting impatience, reaching for calm. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m not in the right headspace to do a scene tonight.”
She stared at him. “That’s it?”
He lifted his hands, dropped them. “That’s it.”
“Okay.” Buying time, she opened her water and took a sip. She didn’t think that was it, not by a long shot, but he had that look in his eyes, the one that said the information booth was closed, try again some other time. “And you just now realized that?”
Something flickered in his eyes, something she thought might have been guilt, but it was gone too fast for her to be sure. “Pretty much.”
She nodded slowly, not believing it for a second. “Okay, well. I don’t really know what to say, except I’m glad you called it.”
Surprise sparked in his expression. “You are?”
“Doms are allowed to safeword too, right?”
“That we are,” he agreed.
