y, Miss Steele?”
I lift my hand from his shoulder and run my fingertips
down his face.
“I just want to touch you everywhere I’m allowed.”
Christian catches my index finger in his teeth, biting
down gently.
“Ow,” I protest and he grins, a low growl coming from
“Ow,” I protest and he grins, a low growl coming from
his throat.
“Okay,” he says, releasing my finger, but his voice is
laced with apprehension. “Wait.” He leans behind me,
lifting me again, and removes his condom, dropping it
unceremoniously on the floor beside the bed.
“I hate those things. I’ve a good mind to call Dr.
Greene around to give you a shot.”
“You think the top ob-gyn in Seattle is going to come
running?”
“I can be very persuasive,” he murmurs, hooking my
hair behind my ear. “Franco’s done a great job on your
hair. I like these layers.”
What?
“Stop changing the subject.”
He shifts me back so I’m straddling him, leaning on his
propped-up knees, my feet on either side of his hips. He
leans back on his arms.
“Touch away,” he says without humor. He looks
nervous, but he’s trying to hide it.
Keeping my eyes on his, I reach down and trace my
finger underneath the lipstick line, across his finely
sculptured abdominal muscles. He flinches and I stop.
“I don’t ha一ve to,” I whisper.
“No, it’s fine. Just takes some . . . readjustment on my
part. No one’s touched me for a long time,” he murmurs.
“Mrs. Robinson?” The words pop unbidden out of my
mouth, and amazingly, I manage to keep all bitterness and
rancor out of my voice.
He nods, his discomfort obvious. “I don’t want to talk
about her. It will sour your good mood.”
“I can handle it.”
“No, you can’t, Ana. You see red whenever I mention
her. My past is my past. It’s a fact. I can’t change it. I’m
lucky that you don’t ha一ve one, because it would drive me
crazy if you did.”
I frown at him, but I don’t want to fight. “Drive you
crazy? More than you are already?” I smile, hoping to
lighten the atmosphere between us.
His lips twitch. “Crazy for you,” he whispers
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