I nod against him as he guides me back into the bedroom under his arm. I know he’s right, but every time I look in the mirror, I’m going to bubble with anger.
Camden pats the bed. “Sit. Drink some juice.” He hands me two pills. “Take these. I’m going to get the antibiotic ointment from the other bathroom.”
I take the pills and drain the entire sippy cup of juice before he gets back. I was so thirsty. I didn’t even notice until I started drinking.
“Good girl. I’ll get you some more.” He takes the cup from me and sets it on the nightstand. “Lie on your tummy, Little one.”
I do as I’m told. I’m kind of surprised by my weird lack of modesty. I’m sort of disconnected from myself. I think that’s keeping me from caring about much.
I wince as he rubs the ointment onto the scrapes on my back and then my elbows. “These will heal quickly. I promise.”
Instead of putting my T-shirt back on, he pulls the covers over my naked body. “Rest. I’m going to make you some breakfast and get you some more juice. How do scrambled eggs and pancakes sound?”
I roll onto my side and look at him. “You can cook?”
He covers his heart and gasps, giving me dramatic, offended wide eyes. “What kind of Daddy Dom would I be if I didn’t know how to make my girl breakfast?”
I giggle, which hurts, and makes me moan in pain.
“Sorry. I’ll try to be less funny for this week.” He kisses my temple and leaves me alone again.
I hate it. It’s so quiet, and I start shaking when I’m on my own. Am I going to become one of those women who can’t stand to be alone and wakes up screaming from night terrors? I hope not.
So many questions are running through my head. I need to call Natasha. I need to cancel my appointments. I need to figure out what’s happening in my life.
And what role does Camden play in it? He’s repeatedly insinuated that he’s taking over my life now. Is he serious? Is that what I really want?
I spent years lusting after this professor. It was taboo in the beginning. It was more of a crush. Sexy older man. Single. Serious. Fit. I know he’s only forty-two. It’s not like he’s sixty. He’s young. But I’m so much younger.
He’ll tire of me. I’m so naïve and ridiculously innocent. At every chance I got, I pretended to be confident and sassy around him, but the truth is I’m not that woman on the inside. I have a Little in me who wants to be snuggled and pampered like he did last night.
It was a gamble coming to him in the night and asking him to let me sleep with him. It could have backfired on me. He proved he won’t always give me what I want while we were in the emergency room and he turned around so he wouldn’t see my naked body.
But he let me climb into his bed. He told me he would never let me out of it from now on. Does he mean that? I can’t wrap my head around the idea.
Where’s Pinky? I panic when I realize I’m not holding her. I sit up, look around, and finally pull the covers back before I find her tucked underneath them. After snagging her, I pull the covers back over me as I gingerly curl up on my side. Fuck that hurts.
I yank the comforter completely over my head so I can shut off the world. Maybe none of this happened. If I squeeze my eyes closed…eye. One eye. I can’t even pretend it didn’t happen because every time I move my eyes, I’m reminded.
I’m not this person. I’m brave and sassy. I’m bold and smart. No attacker is going to cause me to shut down and hide within myself. They can’t take my power.
I’m a smart girl. I know about empowerment. Intellectually, I’m well aware that I should get out of this bed, stand tall, and reclaim my life. But I’m not thinking rationally yet. I’m ruled by fear and anger. I can’t shake it off.
My breath hitches when the mattress dips next to me. It takes me a second to realize it’s Camden. “You okay, Baby girl?” he asks as he places a hand on my hip.
I shake my head under the covers. No sense in lying. I’m not okay.
“How about if you sit up and eat some breakfast? I bet you’ll feel better when we get some food in you.”
I wince as I push to sitting. I don’t really want to eat. I want to wallow in self-pity, but the smell of pancakes and syrup is making my tummy rumble.
Camden is holding up a shirt. “Arms up, Little one.”
I whimper as I lift my hands as high as I can. My shoulders are sore for some reason. Hell, all of me is. It’s like I was in a fight and lost.
I was.
But I guess I also sort of won.
