Page 128

“No.” Then I amend, because I’m trying to do this “being good means saying what you need” thing. “Not right now.”

Adrien notices, and a faint smile pulls at his mouth. “Good.”

Heat floods my face before I can stop it. I stare down hard at the ruined jacket like it holds all the answers.

Adrien sets the towels he’s holding on the dresser beside the colored pencils he bought me, then turns and starts toward me. “Alright, sweetheart. Bath.”

My pencil stills midair. I glance up. “W-what?”

“You heard me.”

“I shower.”

“I’m aware of the concept.”

“No, I mean—I don’t really take baths.”

“You do today.”

“Why?”

Adrien crosses his arms. The movement pulls the Henley taut across his shoulders.

“You need to wash properly,” he says.

“I can wash properly in a shower,” I counter.

“Not without me removing the cuffs.”

I look at my wrist by the headboard. “I can keep them on.”

“In a shower?”

“Yes.”

“They’ll get soaked.”

“I’ll dry them after.”

“They’re padded.”

“Oh.”

That complicates things.

I chew at the inside of my cheek as Adrien watches.

“I’m not leaving you standing alone in a wet shower with your hands restrained,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“So… you’re giving me a bath?”

“Yes.”

“Like… you’re going to be in there?”

“I’m going to wash you.”

The pencil slips from my fingers and lands against the paper with a quiet clack. One of Adrien’s eyebrows lifts slowly, a silent question in the motion.