Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
Amber
I groan as I blink awake. My face hurts, and when I reach up to touch it, my fingers land on a bandage. The events of the day flood back into my mind, and I jerk my gaze to the side when I remember Isaac was next to me when I went to sleep.
He’s not here now, and I can’t decide if I’m glad or sorry.
I stare at the ceiling, taking deep breaths. Holy fuck. Holy fuck, fuck, fuck. I lift a hand to my hair and run it through the locks until I come up short at the band hanging on to the tips. I tug it out and take another deep breath.
What have I done? It’s like I was in someone else’s body for the entire day. Or someone else was in my body. The sun is going down, so I assume it’s evening. I would guess I’ve been asleep for a few hours. I feel heavy and groggy. My chin aches.
My bedroom door is open a few inches. The lights are on in the apartment, and the scent of chicken soup fills the air.
What do I do?
While I’m still staring at the door, Isaac eases it open. He smiles. “You’re awake,” he says softly.
“Yeah…”
“Can I come in?” he asks, still holding on to the doorknob and the frame.
I nod. There’s no need for me to be a bitch even though my head is spinning. Memories bombard me. I spent a few hours being Little with Cassandra. It was so much fun. I’m aware that when I fell, I couldn’t shake myself out of that headspace. Lord knows I tried. It’s like I was stuck.
When I looked up and saw Isaac leaning over me, I didn’t know what to do, but then he took over, Daddying me, and it was so easy to let him.
He comes to my side now and sits on the edge of the bed, notably not touching me. He does reach across and set his palm on the other side of me. “How do you feel?”
“Like I fell and cut my chin open.”
He chuckles. “At least your memory is intact.”
I nod. “It’s totally intact,” I inform him.
His expression turns serious. “You okay?”
“I don’t know.” That’s the truth.
He smiles. “That’s fair.”
“Could you just…” I don’t know what I want to say.
“Yeah…” he answers.
I think that’s a pretty good response.
“Why don’t you come to the kitchen and try to eat something?”
“It smells good.”
He rises and bends over to kiss my forehead, lingering a few seconds with his nose against my hair. “It’s going to be okay, baby. I promise. One day at a time.”
I hold my breath as he quickly leaves the room, pulling the door shut. I stare at the closed door for long seconds, processing what just happened. So much was communicated in those few words. The feel of his lips against my skin. The way he inhaled my scent. The way he called me baby so softly.
There was a lot unspoken, and I hope I’m reading him correctly. I don’t want him to pressure me. I need to sort out my feelings in my own time, and I believe he will give me that.
I wince as I push myself to sit up and groan as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. What I want to do is change into some comfortable clothes and take off this bra and these tight pants. I’d like to put on a tank top and loose shorts, but that’s not something I do in front of Isaac, and I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.
I don’t even know what the wrong idea is. I don’t know what the right idea is either. But strutting around the apartment with my tits loose under a tank top doesn’t seem like the best option.
I pad to the bathroom, flip on the light, and look in the mirror. I have no idea what my chin looks like. It’s covered with a bandage. I didn’t pay attention to the care instructions, so I’ll have to ask Isaac.
Holy shit.
I lean against the counter and continue to stare at myself.
Who am I?
There’s a man in my apartment who took care of me today as though he were my Daddy Dom. He slid right into the role when I needed him and didn’t waver. I’ve known him for two years. We’ve lived together for a year. We’ve never crossed the line until last night.
I don’t know where to go from here, but I have to hope he doesn’t intend to pressure me. All I can do is find out. I’m hungry. My stomach is growling. I can’t hide in my room forever like I have in the past.
Even my room feels different because Isaac has been in it. Several times now. He also stretched out on my bed beside me because I asked him to. I wonder if my pillow will smell like him.
I shove off the counter, pee, wash my hands, and reenter the bedroom. I look around. It makes no sense, but it feels different, like there’s been a huge shift in the tectonic plates or some other such nonsense. Nothing is going to be the same. We can’t go back to how we were before.
We were never going to be able to go back after what happened last night, either. I’m kind of embarrassed about my behavior and how I stomped to his room and demanded he forget our encounter in my closet and reverse time. Stupid.
But now, we’ve gone much further. There is no turning back. All we can do is go forward. This is going to be awkward. I have so many questions.
Food. That’s what I need first. While I’m eating, I can get a feel of the vibes between us. Like he said, one day at a time .
I shuffle into the kitchen, rubbing my hands together. “It smells good,” I say softly.
He has food on the table, steaming bowls, bread, and one of my favorite treats: strawberries with whipped cream. He pulls out a chair and makes a wild bending gesture as though I’m royalty.
I can’t help but giggle and quickly try to stifle it by covering my mouth. I groan a second later because the stitches on my chin pull.
“Careful, baby.” He holds out a hand. “I’ll try not to be funny.”
I sit in the chair and let him push me up to the table. We’ve sat like this in these same chairs hundreds of times. Why is it different now?
Still standing behind me, he gives my hair a tug, forcing me to tip my head back and look up at him. He stares down at me and strokes my cheek. “Nothing is going to happen that you don’t ask for, baby. The timeline is all yours. Take a deep breath and eat your dinner, okay?”
I swallow and give a slight nod.
He’s still holding my hair, and he bends over to kiss the top of my head before whispering, “Good girl.”
All the blood drains from my face. It rushes to my pussy, causing me to clench my thighs together tightly. No two words have ever affected me so strongly. I’m winded and dizzy as he releases my hair.
It’s madness for him to say that nothing will happen without me asking for it while, in the same breath, he calls me his baby and his good girl. Plus, he kisses my head and strokes my cheek before running his fingers through my loose hair.
I should have put it back up in a ponytail, but I didn’t have the energy to lift my arms and fuss with it. It’s messy and falling in heavy waves around my shoulders.
For a moment, Isaac stares at my hair, seemingly fascinated as though he hasn’t seen it before. I rarely wear it down, but even so, it’s a tumbled wreck right now, so I’m not sure why he’s looking at it.
Isaac finally slips into the chair next to me. He lifts my spoon and hands it to me as though I couldn’t have picked it up myself. He’s silently bossing me around, and I’m unsure how I feel about it. Does he even realize he’s doing it?
He waits for me to take a bite, not looking away until I do. This part isn’t odd. He always does that. It’s like he wants to make sure I’m pleased with my meal before he digs into his.
“Mmm,” I moan around the first spoonful of chicken noodle soup. It’s the perfect food for my mood and how groggy I feel. The bread is warm and buttery. I take a bite of that next. I don’t leave the strawberries for dessert. I stab one and eat it before returning to my soup.
We eat in silence for a few minutes before he asks, “Do you want me to call Monette at the gallery in the morning and reschedule your appointment?”
I glance at him. “Oh shit. I forgot about that.” I shake my head. “No, I’ll manage. I won’t need to wear the bandage, will I?”
“No. We can take it off in the morning. You can even shower. We’ll put some petroleum jelly on it. People will see the stitches, but we’ll make up a story.”
“Okay. I don’t think there’s any reason to cancel. It won’t be a long meeting. I just need to discuss what I’ll be showcasing at the exhibition next month. I doubt many people will be in the gallery. I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m tired, but I think it’s from the stress of the day more than anything.”
The stress has nothing to do with the cut on my chin. It’s from me letting myself try on a new persona and getting lost in it. It’s from me panicking about how it made me feel, how Isaac made me feel—how Isaac continues to make me feel.
I wonder if he knows that I’m squeezing my legs together because he has me so on edge I can’t think straight. Surely not. It’s been so long since I’ve had an orgasm that I’m strung tight like a top. The tight skinny jeans aren’t helping. Nor is the lace bra that’s pushing my breasts up.
Isaac nods. “You let me know if you change your mind. I’ll make excuses for you.”
“Thank you.” Has he always been this kind? Calling Monette to make excuses for me is not part of his job description. He’s my bodyguard. His job is to keep me safe.
As I continue eating, I think back over the weeks and months. Isaac does a lot of things for me. He’s gradually taken over the tasks I dislike. He’s become my personal assistant in many ways. He cooks for me, manages the household chores, and reminds me of my schedule each day. When did he become more like an assistant than a random protection detail?
When we’re finished eating, I know I need to escape before the room explodes from all the tension. “I think I’m going to shower and go to bed. I have a headache.”
“Okay, baby. Jace gave me some waterproof bandages so you could shower without getting the cut wet. I’ll put one on for you to be sure you get it covered. You won’t be able to see the injury as well as me.”
“Okay.”
He stands and takes several dishes to the sink. When I rise and start to help him, he sets a hand on my back. “I’ve got it, baby.”
Every time he says that one word, it burrows deeper and deeper under my skin. It’s starting to sound like our normal when it’s definitely not.
After he’s loaded the dishwasher, he grabs a bottle of painkillers from the cabinet and shakes two into his palm. He brings them to me and hands me a glass of water. “Take these, baby. For your headache.”
I pop them in my mouth and swallow them with the water.
“Good girl,” he says as he turns back to the cabinet.
I stare at his back. My heart… It’s going to crack in half if he ever stops calling me that. I’m not at all sure this thing between us is a good idea. It’s probably not. Above all else, he’s the best bodyguard I’ve ever had. I wouldn’t want to fuck that up and lose him. I’m used to him. Comfortable. There’s no way I would let another man move into my apartment.
His hand comes to the back of my neck, startling me out of my worries. “Let’s go in your bathroom where the lighting is good, and I’ll put the bandage on.”
My fists clench and unclench at my sides as I let him guide me through my bedroom and into my bathroom. How many times has he been in here now? Four? Five? One of those times, he stretched out on my bed and nestled against me.
Isaac points to the toilet seat. “Sit. Tip your head back for me.”
He pulls a bandage out of his pocket, opens it, and sets it on the counter before holding my head with one hand and easing the tape that holds up a square of gauze from my face.
I wince from the pull of the tape.
“I’m sorry, baby. Almost done.” He grabs the waterproof bandage, peels off the back, and carefully lines it up with my cut. “There. Perfect.”
I lower my head and look at him. Fuck, this is awkward. Will he leave now?
His hand comes to the back of my neck, and he strokes my cheek with his thumb. “Be careful in the shower. Shout if you need me. I’ll come check on you after you get settled in bed.”
He’s not asking. He’s telling me what’s going to happen. He’s letting me know he’ll be back in my bedroom. What kind of willpower will I have then? I’ll have on less clothing. I’ll be more vulnerable. How long can I hold my flimsy shield in place?