Page 40 of Haden

I decide to fess up to my other transgression. “I tried to open your phone so I could see the pictures you took, but it’s password-protected.”

He smirks. “Were you going to delete them?”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll move them to my computer this morning and store them in the cloud. Then I’ll take them off my phone. How’s that?”

It’s better than him carrying them around.

“Me taking pictures is no different from what Tiago does,” he points out. “You’re not the only one who told me about his paintings. I’ve heard there are dozens up there. Nudes of his wife. Very risqué nudes.”

I chew on my bottom lip. I guess he’s right. I know Tiago paints futuristic images of Reagan, nine months pregnant with huge breasts dripping milk. That’s worse than photos of me thoroughly debauched, isn’t it? I don’t even know.

“Did you use the potty, naughty girl?”

“No. I brushed my teeth, though.”

He lowers his lips to mine, kissing me gently. “Mmm.” Then his hands come to the hem of the T-shirt I stole and ease it up over my head. “Go pee,” he orders.

“Haden…” It’s daylight now. I would think I would have more scruples. But I don’t. When he lifts that damn brow—his silent way of getting me to obey—I sigh dramatically and saunter toward the toilet.

Who cares if he watches me pee? It’s a natural bodily function. There’s no reason for me to be embarrassed.

He follows me, stands in the doorway, and crosses his arms.

I don’t dare disobey him. Sitting tall and tipping my head back to look up at him, I spread my legs and relax my bladder. It’s so fucking sexy, I think I might faint. There’s something wrong with me. I shouldn’t be turned on by his overbearing dominance. Watching me pee crosses the line. Except for some reason, it’s just hot. There’s no way I’m going to tell the other women this. I’d be mortified if they found out.

Maybe my brothers and cousins are this dominant, too, but I don’t think I want to know that.

Haden pulls off some toilet paper and squats in front of me. “Good girl.” He sets a hand on my thigh and reaches between my legs to wipe me. My face heats further when he pulls back the paper to look at it before dropping it in the toilet. “You haven’t started your period yet.”

No, duh.

I see that. I lick my lips. “I will soon. Probably in a few hours.”

He lifts his hand from my thigh to my cheek and strokes me with so much tenderness. “You have symptoms?” he asks gently as if we’re discussing something mundane like the weather.

I nod.

“What are they?”

I’m not going to bother denying him this information. It’s futile, and besides, I find myself oddly endeared to his nosiness. I never expected to meet a man who would want to be so intimately involved in my menstruation, but apparently, they exist. I found one. He’s not going to back off.

“My breasts are more sore than yesterday. My stomach is cramping already. And I kind of feel like crying.” I didn’t realize that last part was true until it slipped out. I’m pretty sure I want to cry because of the intense way Haden is in my space, dominating me. It’s so sweet and wrong at the same time that my emotions are welling up.

He leans in and kisses me gently, ignoring the fact that I’m still sitting on the toilet, my legs spread, naked. His hand moves from my face to my breast, and he cups it softly before giving it a slight squeeze.

I arch into his touch. It’s sore, but not so much that I want to bat his hand away.

Holding my gaze, he pinches my nipple next.

I whimper at the sharp pain that shoots to my pussy. Even though I’m going to start my period sometime this morning, I would gladly let him fuck me first. He’s not going to, but the wishful thinking is nice.

Taking my hand, he helps me stand and leads me to the sink, where he proceeds to wash both of our hands together. It’s so intimate that my knees grow weak.

After drying our combined hands, he turns me toward the bed. “Lean over the end, baby.”

I drag my feet as I move in that direction. “Why?”