He ran a hand through his hair. “In a spanking way. Damn it, Bridget. Why did you run?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t know if I was supposed to stay or go. I got confused.”
“Which is why the contract now states that you stay. And you owe me thirty smacks. I’m going to the bathroom. When I come back out, you better be ready.”
She shook her head. “You can’t punish me for something I didn’t know about.”
“Watch me,” he said as he turned away. “It was common sense. There is a clause in our contract about common sense. I’m invoking it.”
“Use my bathroom. It’s down the hall. I don’t know if I put soap in the guest bathroom.” She never used it.
“Fine.” He strode away.
And she stood there because of all the reactions, she hadn’t expected this one. He was pissed. Seriously pissed. He was upset because she hadn’t been there when he woke up.
How should she handle him? She wasn’t afraid of the spanking. She’d been spanked before. Even the hard smacks did something for her. She was comfortable with her freakiness. If he spanked her hard, she would have an excuse to cry and she really needed to cry. She could cry and he could feel in control.
All in all it was a good plan.
Now she knew. He wanted her in bed when he woke up. She glanced down at the contract. Will didn’t believe in love, but he believed in that stupid contract. He cared enough to amend it.
He was taking a while. She walked into her bedroom.
There he was. He’d lain down on her bed as if he couldn’t move another muscle. He was still dressed, still in his shoes. With his eyes closed and his arms at his side, he looked like an exhausted boy. A beautiful, tired boy. Her guy. For now.
How should she handle him?
He’d taken care of her. Maybe it was time someone took care of him. She wasn’t sure she would be good at it, but she was going to try. She carefully eased his shoes off and found a blanket to put over him.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the spanking.” His eyes didn’t open.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Doc.” There was something about seeing him in her girlie room that made her smile. Her bedspread was a pretty silver and she’d indulged in a bunch of eggplant-colored pillows to contrast. It gave the whole place a glamorous feel. Will looked like a sleepy predator.
“Shitty day. Shitty, shitty day,” he murmured. “Kiss me.”
He was going to kill her. She leaned over and brushed her lips against his. He sighed and his breathing became even, sleep taking him.
She was already in love with him because she was an idiot. She was a stupid fool who didn’t know when to protect herself, but it didn’t matter.
She had a little time to prove to him that it could work.
Damn, she hoped she still had the recipe for those enchiladas.
* * * *
Will yawned as he moved from the bedroom to the living room and wondered exactly how much he’d fucked up. When he’d woken up the day before and found himself alone in bed, he’d thought about how to handle Bridget. She’d run. He hadn’t expected that and he really should have.
He just hadn’t figured out if she was bored or skittish.
“Damn it.” Bridget’s voice carried down the hall.
Why had he fallen asleep in her bed? He never slept anywhere except his own place. He made sure to take women to his place. Always. But he’d walked toward her bathroom and her bed had looked so inviting. He’d lain down because he kind of wanted to see what type of mattress she liked. It was one of the mattresses that conformed to a person’s body and he’d sunk into it like he’d found paradise. The bed had smelled like her—all sharp and citrusy, with the hint of sweet cherries.
He’d had a crappy day and all he’d wanted to do was sleep and be surrounded by that scent.
But he was awake now and he had to deal with the fact that he’d lost his cool.
He never did that. He was always in control around his lovers. He never barged in and caused some stupid scene. He was the anti-drama guy.
She was standing over the stove as he walked into the room. She bent over, giving him a spectacular view of her ass. Her hair flowed down her back. He caught sight of bare skin and wondered if she was wearing a crop top.
“Bridget?”
She stood up, her back stiffening, and then stopped.
Damn it. He was going to have to apologize. “I need to talk to you.”
She turned around and he damn near had a heart attack. She wasn’t wearing a shirt at all. She stared at him for a second. “I made dinner.”
He’d been pretty sure she didn’t cook. “Really?”
One hand went on her hip and she gave him the sassiest frown. “Yes, really. I can manage to follow a recipe. Sort of. It should be edible.”
She’d cooked and she’d foregone her shirt. It was definitely a good sign. Maybe he hadn’t fucked up. Maybe she was more into the D/s relationship than he’d thought she was.
“It smells wonderful, sweetheart. And you look stunning.”
She blushed. “Serena told me being naked might make you less annoyed with the fact that I ran away.”
His affection for Bridget’s best friend rose. His cock was already erect and he had to admit, she had every bit of his attention. Usually his brain was working on ten different things, but when he was with Bridget, he was focused. He couldn’t think of anything but her. She was a challenge.
“Tell me why you ran.”
“The boobs aren’t enough?” She was a bit insecure and he couldn’t figure that out. She was fucking gorgeous.
“The boobs are lovely, but you’re not getting out of punishment.” Now that he knew she was all right, he wanted to spank that sweet ass of hers. His hand was itching and his cock was twitching. She got his motor running.
It couldn’t last. He would want peace eventually. This crazy focus on her made him feel so fucking good though. It had been forever—maybe never—since he was so focused on a woman.
Her shoulders squared. “Fine. It was silly of me. I should have woken you up and told you I was leaving. I get it. I was a little childish. I can handle a spanking. I kind of like them. Then we can have dinner. If you want to.”
“I want to. How long does it need to cook?” He didn’t want to screw up her dinner plans. She’d bent for him and he was willing to bend for her.