Michaela didn’t have to say a word. Her stomach growled loud enough for both men to hear it.
“Go to the bathroom,” Lewis said. “Then meet us in the dining room.”
“Just let me grab my jammies.” She headed to her dresser and pulled out a pair of sleep shorts and a cotton top. It wasn’t a sexy set by any means, but she really wanted to change out of her current apparel, because she’d had her panties on since morning.
Michaela found it a bit painful tending to herself in the bathroom, until she made the effort not to use her left hand. She one-handed the soap, water, and washcloth and freshened herself up as best she could. Getting dressed one-handed worked better when she sat down on the edge of the tub.
Her hand did hurt, not quite as badly as when she’d nailed herself—ha ha—but it was throbbing some. She’d been lucky so far in her life not to have experienced any real pain—beyond the odd headache. This was definitely different from that.
Michaela followed her nose—that chicken soup smelled good—and found the guys, wearing their jeans but not their shirts or their socks, apparently. She looked down at their bare feet.
“You two even have sexy feet.” How fair was that? What do you care about fair? You’re the one who gets to enjoy them. Well, at least for the moment. Right now, Michaela was fine with enjoying them for the moment.
“I don’t know, sweetheart. I know what sexy feet look like, because I’m looking at them.”
Randy was staring down at her toes. Feeling a bit frisky, she rested her left foot on its heel and wiggled her fuchsia-tipped digits, using them to wave at him. Both men chuckled, and then Lewis held her chair, and Randy ladled out the soup.
“Do you want butter on your bread?” Lewis asked.
“Yes, please.” She held up her left hand. “I wonder why Dr. Jessop bandaged my entire hand when it was only my index finger that was injured?”
“Likely so you wouldn’t do what you would do otherwise—use the rest of your hand to do things like get dressed and butter your bread,” Lewis said.
“Would he be that sneaky?” Michaela had always considered Robert Jessop to be a kind and attentive gentleman.
She spooned some soup and bit into the bread, which she realized they must have warmed in the microwave. The scent of the yeast and the melting of the bread and butter on her tongue sent her inner foodie into spasms of delight.
The guys hadn’t answered her question, but she noticed that Randy and Lewis looked at each other for a moment. Lewis nodded to Randy, who then turned his attention to her. “Well, sweetheart, he is a Dom. I’ve heard they tend to be sneaky and bossy and always get their way.”
Michaela felt her eyes widen. “Robert Jessop is a Dom? As in whips and chains? That kind of Dom?”
Lewis chuckled. “I haven’t heard that he uses either, necessarily. But yes, Robert and David are both Dominants, and Jillian is their submissive as well as their wife. I think it suits all three of them.”
“Are they the only ones in town who are—you know—like that?”
Lewis grinned. “Nope. There are a few other triads.” Then he tilted his head to the side as he looked at her. “Interested?”
“About Doms and subs and bondage and things? I don’t…” She huffed out a breath and realized they were about to get into a very personal discussion over excellent chicken soup and amazing freshly homemade bread. “I don’t know much about it, personally. I’ve heard a few things. Maybe I should say I’m a bit curious. But I don’t have a lot of sexual experience. I’ve had one lover—this guy who was a sort of a friend in college. We went to a party one night, and I had a bit too much to drink. But it didn’t last much longer than that one night …” She closed her eyes and shook her head.
And opened them when Lewis’s hand covered her right one. “Baby girl? A guy in college, friend or not, taking advantage of you when you’d had too much to drink? I’d call him a lot of things, but ‘lover’ sure as hell isn’t one of them.”
“He didn’t force me, Lewis. I remember quite clearly saying yes.”
“Maybe he didn’t force you,” Randy said. “But in our book? If you were alcohol-impaired, then he should not have touched you, period.”
“Eat up, baby girl. I know you’ve slept a lot already, but we both really feel you need more.”
“I can’t usually fall asleep again quite so quickly after a nap. And that was a very long nap.”
Neither of the men had anything to say to that. So she turned her attention back to her bowl of soup and piece of still warm, perfectly buttered bread.
After just a few more sips and bites, she felt full. Michaela frowned as she looked down at her still one-quarter full bowl of soup and half-piece of bread.
“It’s good, and my mouth wants more.”
“But your tummy is saying you’ve had enough?” Randy nodded. “I’m not surprised.”
“Tomorrow you should be pretty much back to normal, appetite- wise” Lewis picked up her right hand and kissed it. “Come on, baby girl.”
Only moments before she’d proclaimed that she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, but now she couldn’t stop the enormous yawn that fought its way out of her.
As she walked with him back to the bedroom, she stopped. Michaela had turned her head to look at her still-in-need-of-repair front door. She blinked because she wasn’t sure if she was seeing it right.
“You fixed it.” She looked up at Lewis.
“I did. You’ll get back up on your horse as soon as your hand heals. I needed to finish that for you.”
She’d looked toward the door, and she hadn’t known if looking at the still-damaged doorframe would give her the creeps, or not. She’d thought she might
