“I need a shower,” I said, sharper than I intended. I hated how much like a plea it sounded.
Her gaze met mine, flat and unshakable. “No. Not on that ankle.”
Before I could argue, she carried me into the bathroom. The clawfoot tub gleamed white against the dark tile, its brass fixtures catching the light. She set me on the counter beside the sink, then turned to the faucet. Water thundered into the basin, steam curling up to blur the mirror.
“You’ll soak it,” she said, testing the temperature with her hand. Her tone carried no heat, only quiet certainty.
I pressed my palms against the counter, fighting the urge to slide off and prove her wrong. The logic of it cut through my defiance. She was right, I couldn’t balance on one foot in a shower, but I hated the surrender.
Cam adjusted the handles, her strong body filling the space as though the room itself belonged to her. She didn’t look back to check if I agreed. Her every movement told me she knew the decision was hers.
The reminder was louder than the sound of the water filling the tub. This wasn’t negotiation. She had drawn the line, and I was already standing inside it. She straightened.
“Water’s ready.” She took my hands and I slid off the counter onto one foot. She turned her back to me and braced one hand against the counter as if she intended to wait.
I stood, staring at the length of her back. Her head was slightly bowed, shoulders relaxed. She wasn’t giving me privacy, not really. She was giving me an illusion of it.
My eyes shifted to the mirror above the sink. From where she stood, she could see everything reflected if she looked. A spark lit low in my belly.
I tested it first with something small, tugging my sweatshirt over my head in one smooth pull. The fabric caught in my hair, leaving it mussed. I tossed it aside and kept my gaze on the mirror. Cam hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken.
I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my yoga pants, drawing the motion out, then paused. If she was watching, she gave nothing away. Her face was still and blank, a mask carved of stone. The lack of reaction was worse than anything else.
Heat pooled under my skin. I pushed further, easing the pants down my legs with a slow twist of my hips. Next came my nightshirt, slowly up and over my head. It was a performance now, deliberate, my breath hitching with each inch I revealed. Part of me thrilled at the risk. Another part burned with humiliation.
What are you doing, Sabine? The question echoed in my mind. Testing her, testing yourself. Wanting to prove she wasn’t untouchable, and fearing what it meant if she was.
Cam shifted slightly, enough to catch her reflection fully in the glass. Her eyes were on me now. Not hungry, not wide, just watching.
The sight made my pulse leap and my nipples tighten. Her unreadable gaze only sharpened the tension. I wanted her to break, to react, to show me something. I wanted her to stay silent forever.
The air thickened with it, heavier than the steam curling from the tub. Neither of us spoke, but the current between us wound tighter with every piece of clothing I peeled away, every second she refused to move or look away.
I stood still, heat prickling across my bare skin, willing myself not to cover myself or shrink from her gaze. She finally turned, her eyes never leaving me. She closed the distance in two steps. Her arms came around me, sure and unyielding, one hand braced at my back, the other scooping under my thighs. Her grip was firm yet careful, absolute control in the set of her hands. I was small in her hold, contained entirely by strength I could neither fight nor match.
She lowered me slowly into the water, every motion deliberate. Heat wrapped around me, but it was her silence that branded deeper. Kara and Ellie barked commands, clipped and sharp. Cam didn’t need to speak.
The truth was clear: I was being mastered without a word.
Hot water lapped against my skin as I settled back into the tub. Heat soaked into me slowly, loosening the knot in my muscles, but there was no easing the awareness prickling under my skin. She stood a few steps away, leaning on the counter like a silent sentry. Her presence filled the room as surely as the steam.
I let my head tip against the rim of the tub, pretending I could ignore her. But I felt her eyes, heavy as a hand on my body. Every shift of the water seemed louder under that gaze.
My fingers drifted across my stomach, sliding lower before I could think better of it. The touch sparked a jolt of release, part defiance, part need. Was I daring her to stop me, or trying to prove I wasn’t under her control?
I felt the rush in my chest as one hand slipped between my thighs, the other on one breast. The rhythm of my body blurred with the sound of the water. My pulse hammered. I didn’t know if I was taunting her or begging her to watch.
Cam moved. A slow shift of weight as she folded her arms. Her gaze sharpened, no longer blank stone but focused, intent.
“Pinch your nipple for me.” The words were low, but they cracked through me like a strike. “Hard.”
My breath caught. I stared at her for a long minute before I obeyed, my fingers tightening. The sting crested into a rush of heat.
“Yes, just like that.”
The commands fell soft and precise, each one winding me tighter. She didn’t step in. She didn’t reach for me. She let me touch myself under her eyes, and the fact that she allowed it twisted the control deeper. The power in her silence had already bound me. Her voice only cinched it tighter.
“Stroke your pussy, Sabine. Rub your little clit.”
