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“So this is your place, huh?”
James smiles and uses a credit card key pass to buzz us into his apartment.
“I’ll have a key card made for you tomorrow.” He holds the door open, encouraging me inside, and it’s every bit as spectacular as I imagined it would be. I should have expected that. High-end finishes on every s
urface and that minimalist bachelor billionaire feel to it.
“James?” I don’t know what I want to say, but I feel like there’s so much we haven’t said but need to. He looks at me, and I know that he’s not going to discuss the obvious apprehensions I have about being in his place right now.
“Shh… just take a seat and relax. You’re supposed to be resting your voice, though I’m starting to realize this will be hard for you.”
“But I’m filthy.” Looking down at my borrowed, dirty clothes, I’m embarrassed. James ignores me. He helps me get settled on a couch much nicer than mine in a navy blue fabric that seems to shine yet feels butter soft at the same time. No lumps, bumps, or spring coils here, and I’m relieved.
“I’m going to get a bath started for you; don’t go anywhere.” He kisses my forehead and rubs away a smudge of dirt in my worry line before he disappears down a long hallway. As if I was going anywhere… pfft. Closing my eyes, I lean my head back on the couch and replay the chaos of the morning.
Nothing out of the ordinary comes to mind except the fire occurring in the first place. Was it even an accident? A shiver courses through my body, and the thought depresses me. Who would go out of their way to cause a fire? Something so destructive and so… final?
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, let’s get you cleaned up.” James returns, and with his help, I sit up and move toward the bathroom on sluggish feet.
“Wrong fairytale,” I croak.
Giving me a look I can’t describe, he goes about preparing things in the bathroom. “Perhaps right now it is. You’ll feel better once you’re cleaned up.” Murmuring, he leans down to remove my shoes and borrowed socks.
“What’s all this?” My voice fails me on the last word.
“Shh… My frog princess, this is me taking care of you.” James certainly isn’t taking a break from teasing me, and he undresses me slowly as I look around the room. In the dimmed lighting that reflects off the mirrors, there’s a large corner tub. Shelves of golden-hued stones built into the tiled walls hold lit candles; their comforting scent fills the room as the flames dance back and forth. The flicker is hypnotic as I stare at them.
“Candles, James?” Lifting my eyebrow, I remark about them, and his face falls.
“Shit, I didn’t even think about that. Are they okay? I can get rid of them if they bother you. Damn it, I’m an idiot.” He reaches to hold me in his arms, and I realize I’m very okay as long as James is holding me here like this.
“Stop.” My voice is so hoarse I have to clutch my throat to make sure it’s still a part of me. His fingers trace the column of skin and I try to swallow some moisture down. James turns away for a moment to run the sink. He hands me a glass of water and I swallow what I can to clear my throat before speaking. “It’s okay, I’m okay.” Nodding, I smile, and James nods back understanding.
“They smell nice.” Vanilla permeates the bathroom which looks more like a spa.
He lifts up my top, leaving my breasts bare to the steamy air, my skin pebbling. He pulls the elastic band of the pants down, taking the cotton underwear with them. He’s excruciatingly gentle, and I feel like a treasured piece of glass.
“In you go.” James holds my hand and helps me lift my tired legs over the lip of the tub. I sink down into sweet-smelling water and bubbles. “Before I forget; lift your arm up.” James holds out a clear plastic bag and some medical tape, which he puts over my injured hand. He wraps it carefully so as not to get it wet and rests it on a folded hand towel on the side of the tub. It’s sweet and caring, and tears gather in the corners of my eyes.
“Thank you.” Muttering seems like all I can manage right now, overwhelmed as the events of the day weigh heavily on my mind.
“You need to rest those pipes of yours.” I shrug and let the water calm my racing heart. He grips my chin firmly to look into my eyes. “Oh, I’m far from done with you. Scoot forward.”
And just like that, James makes every past boyfriend look like a completely useless asshole. He removes his jeans and shirt and slides in behind me on the seat inside the tub, cradling me back against his chest. Hot muscles and warm water take the chill away, and he rests his chin on my shoulder. “I hope this is okay. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I know today has been trying, to say the least.” I nod, and he kisses my neck before reaching for a washcloth.
“That was probably one of the worst scares of my life, getting your call this morning and having no idea what to expect.” Keeping silent, I squeeze his free hand with my good one, and he seems to understand.
“As much as I don’t want to admit it, Devin did a brave thing by getting you out of there. I owe him for being there when I wasn’t.”
Hearing James acquiesce makes me snort because it’s so unlike him.
“Hush, Casey.”
James tortures me by dragging the subtly abrasive cotton cloth over my chest, down my stomach, and between my legs. I think about scrubbing my kitchen counter with the rough sponge, and the coarse cloth rubs my breasts, stimulating the peaks into hard nubs that jut at the water’s surface. It doesn’t have to be sexual, and yet I can’t help myself from going there. His cock pushes up between us and rests against my back. He presses his hips flush to me, and the hard length makes me want every piece of him I can get with a newfound desperation. Gasping, he kisses my cheek tenderly, and I let my eyes slide closed. It’s just the two of us in our safe little cocoon on the thirtieth floor. We’ve nowhere to go, nothing to do.
“I like having you like this—captive to my touch.” He slides his fingers south, slipping them between my thighs easily, his fingertip pressing gently on my clit. Energy hums through me while he plays, sliding slick fingers up and down my folds. “You are the softest thing I’ve ever touched and the only thing I want.”
He slips further down, spreading my legs wider in the tub, and I lean back, opening to him. He plays—pressing lightly but not penetrating me. James has this intuition, knowing when to push forward and when to retreat. A finger circles lower to the forbidden ring, teasing and testing. “Someday, all of this will be mine. But not today.” On a growl, he pushes the tip in, grazing me, and I realize how much I want it to happen. How much I would let it happen.
