zzically at me.
“Why would you think that?” And immediately he understands. “You think she traumatized me?”
I nod.
“No Anastasia. She’s not the reason. Besides, Mrs. Robinson wouldn’t take any of that shit from me.”
Oh… but I ha一ve to. I pout.
“So nothing to do with her.”
“No. And I don’t want you touching yourself, either.”
What? Ah yes, the no masturbation clause.
“Out of curiosity… why?”
“Because I want all your pleasure,” his voice is husky, but determined.
Oh… I ha一ve no answer for that. On one level it’s up there with, ‘I want to bite that lip’, on another, it’s so selfish. I frown and take a bite of cod, trying to assess mentally what concessions I’ve gained. The food, the sleep, I can look him in the eye. He’s going to take it slow, and we ha一ven’t discussed soft limits. But I’m not sure I can face that over food.
“I’ve given you a great deal to think about ha一ven’t I?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to go through the soft limits now too?”
“Not over dinner.”
He smiles.
“Squeamish?”
“Something like that.”
“You’ve not eaten very much.”
“I’ve had enough.”
“Three oysters, four bites of cod, and one asparagus stalk, no potatoes, no nuts, no olives, and you’ve not eaten all day. You said I could trust you.”
Jeez. He’s kept an inventory.
“Christian, please, it’s not every day I sit through conversations like this.”
“I need you fit and healthy Anastasia.”
“I know.”
“And right now, I want to peel you out of that dress.”
I swallow. Peel me out of Kate’s dress. I feel the pull deep in my belly. Muscles that I’m now more acquainted with clench at his words. But I can’t ha一ve this. His most potent weapon, used against me again. He’s so good at sex – even I’ve figured this out.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I murmur quietly. “We ha一ven’t had dessert.”
“You want dessert?” he snorts.
“Yes.”
“You could be dessert,” he murmurs suggestively.
“I’m not sure I’m sweet enough.”
“Anastasia, you’re deliciously sweet. I know.”
“Christian. You use sex as a weapon. It really isn’t fair,” I
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