Slowly, Jason reached out and touched her. Gia started with a little gasp. His ghost of a smile haunted her when he ran his knuckles up the curve of her waist, to the swell of her breast, brushing over the sensitive bead. Against her will, a jolt of desire shivered through her system. Her breath hitched.
“Pretty. Soft,” he whispered. “Now lose the jeans so I can see your pussy.”
Gia dragged in a shuddering breath, her whole body tense. Why did she resent him and want him so much at the same time? What mystical control did he have over her body? Or did she simply respond because she’d always loved him?
Her fingers shook as she unsnapped her pants. The zipper fell with a subdued hiss. Then she fitted her hands on the waistband and pushed them down her hips. A year ago, they’d been tight. Since then, they’d gotten so big, they fell to her knees with the tiniest shove. She stepped out of them, leaving them piled on the wood beside her sweater.
Gia stood totally bare in front of him, eyes squeezed tightly shut.
Jason took her chin in his grip. “You don’t get to escape me by closing your eyes and pretending I’m someone else.”
Lashes fluttering, she lifted her lids. “That’s not… I wasn’t even thinking of another man.”
“So this is the sacrificial martyr routine. Perfect,” he snapped. “Nothing makes a man feel more wanted than cringing.”
Gia clenched her fists. “For the next eighteen days, you can tell me where to be, what to wear, where to sleep, how to kneel, and the way you want me to spread my legs. You do not get to tell me how to feel.”
He hesitated, his stare taking her in. She wished she could see warmth in his blue eyes—something that made his strict care seem like the safety net it once had. Now it just felt like a blade he held at her throat.
Finally, he stepped back, reaching behind him to grab a fluffy white robe on a coat rack she hadn’t noticed. It was too small for him, and it made Gia wonder if he kept it here for his overnight conquests. She tried not to weep at the thought as he slipped it over her shoulders and she rushed to belt it around her waist.
“Go upstairs,” he demanded. “At the end of the hall, you’ll find our bedroom and someone waiting for you. I’ll be up soon.”
Someone? He wasn’t coming up to push her into bed right this second? Or had he arranged for another person to do his bondage dirty work first? She frowned.
Annoyance tightened his lips. “Problem?”
Whatever awaited her upstairs would allow her precious time to confront her feelings and get them under control. She’d been terrified out of her mind on the job once or twice. She’d buckled down, pushed through, and taken care of business. This required the same strategy.
“None.”
Gia swept past him and headed up the stairs. Before they’d married, she would have taunted him with a kiss and a flirty smile. Now, she risked a peek at him over her shoulder and found him watching her, unblinking and resolved.
With a shiver, she raced to the master bedroom and got her first look at his personal space. The soft lights of the recessed cans and the golden glow from a lamp on his nightstand illuminated the room, muting the view of the city. The big dark leather-tufted headboard dominated one wall and lorded over the king-sized bed, covered in white with accents of shimmering taupe. It looked like a sleek hotel room. Except for the two women who stood inside the space, both gorgeous and impeccably groomed.
“Gia?” a blonde in her mid-thirties asked.
“Yes.” Were they Jason’s lovers? Did he want her to hear their bedroom tales or something?
“I’m Michaela.” Her smile broadened, a friendly gesture that surprisingly set her at ease. Then she gestured to the woman beside her. “This is my assistant Stacia.”
The very petite, exotic brunette bowed her head in welcome. “Hello.”
What was going on? “Nice to meet you.”
“If you’ll come with me into the bathroom, we’ll get started on your hair,” said Michaela.
Her hair? Jason wanted her tresses arranged in some fancy do before he tousled her in his big bed? Then again, this was his show. She was here to entertain him.
“Sure.”
As they rounded the corner into the modern space, she stopped short. A contemporary oval tub stood alone in the corner of the room on dark slate tile. Views of the city sparkled from the two walls of windows. A double vanity with hideously expensive marble carved out not only the counters but the sinks, all in severe angles. The piece took up half the length of one wall. A massive shower ate up the rest. No curtain or glass partitioned it off. The space was designed to simply walk into, with shower heads to spray a body from every direction, as well as overhead.
In the middle of the large space, Michaela had set up a big leather chair with an ottoman and waved Gia toward it. “Please sit here.”
Getting her hair done wasn’t exactly like being waterboarded. With a shrug, she eased into the seat.
Immediately, Michaela had her hands in Gia’s tresses, fluffing and testing its texture. “Tell me what you’d like to do with your hair. I’d recommend a trim to clean up the ends. We can play with the color if you want. Your dark brown has gold tones. It’s pretty, but I can add more warmth, frame your face with some highlights. We can also give you some depth with lowlights.”
“He didn’t give you specific instructions?” If he’d paid a pair of beauticians to come to his place, she figured that Jason would want to call the shots.
“Just to bring out your natural beauty and make you happy.”
That puzzled the hell out of Gia. She’d never been a girly-girl, and highlights would just mean maintenance later that she didn’t need to deal with. Her plate was already full. But a free haircut was a free haircut.
“Just a trim, please.”
Michaela didn’t show her disappointment. “Of course. I’ll condition it, too. Now that winter is coming, you’ll need a little extra moisture.”
Sure. Whatever.
Gia leaned back, lowering her head into one of Jason’s sinks as Michaela wet her hair. Stacia approached her with several bottles of nail polish and asked her to pick one for her pedicure. Absently, she picked a peachy-bronze color and sighed as Michaela began to shampoo her. Gia knew she should relax and enjoy the pampering. She hadn’t had any in the last year. Instead, the worry that the temporary nanny wouldn’t remember to read Tony Jr. a bedtime story distracted her. And the hope that Jason would soon be in a better mood ran a close second.
An hour later, she stared at herself in the mirror, blinking in surprise. With a few snips of the scissors, the brandishing of a blow dryer, and some turns of a curling iron, Michaela had transformed her hair into something beautiful, full of body and shine. Stacia had finished her pedi, and now shaped and buffed her fingernails.
Afterward, she emerged from the bathroom. A baby-doll nightie in a blush color, trimmed with beige lace that would cup her breasts and flirt with her thighs, lay strewn across the bed. A very small thong accompanied it. A pair of new champagne-hued Louboutin stilettos sat on top of their box, their bows glittering, the red soles a bright warning.
“I’m supposed to put all this on?” she asked no one in particular.
“Not yet,” Michaela answered, then turned to her assistant.
Gia caught sight of a pot of wax heating as Stacia set up what looked like a wide massage table and covered it with a clean sheet. Her stomach dropped. Jason really meant everything he’d said. He intended to take her to bed. For that, he’d want her waxed. After all, why shouldn’t he insist on his money’s worth? Remembering how much she’d hurt him and how much she owed him, she eased onto the table, vowing not to give her husband any more of herself than her body.