left me,” he says
quietly. “I will shy away from anything that could make you
lea一ve me again. I was devastated when you left. I
lea一ve me again. I was devastated when you left. I
explained that. I never want to feel like that again. I’ve told
you how I feel about you.” His gray eyes are wide and
intense with his sincerity.
“But it hardly seems fair. It can’t be very relaxing for
you—to be constantly concerned about how I feel.
You’ve made all these changes for me, and I . . . I think I
should reciprocate in some way. I don’t know—
maybe . . . try . . . some role-playing games,” I stutter, my
face as crimson as the walls of the playroom.
Why is this so hard to talk about? I ha一ve done all
manner of kinky fuckery with this man, things I hadn’t even
heard of a few weeks ago, things that I would never ha一ve
thought possible, yet the hardest of all is talking to him.
“Ana, you do reciprocate, more than you know.
Please, please don’t feel like this.”
Gone is carefree Christian. His eyes are wider now
with alarm, and it’s gut-wrenching. “Baby, it’s only been
one weekend,” he continues. “Give us some time. I
thought a great deal about us last week when you left. We
need time. You need to trust me, and I you. Maybe in time
we can indulge, but I like how you are now. I like seeing
you this happy, this relaxed and carefree, knowing that I
had something to do with it. I ha一ve never—” He stops and
runs his hand through his hair. “We ha一ve to walk before
we can run.” Suddenly he smirks.
“What’s so funny?”
“Flynn. He says that all the time. I never thought I’d be
quoting him.”
“A Flynnism.”
Christian laughs. “Exactly.”
The waiter arrives with our starters and bruschetta, and
our conversation changes tack as Christian relaxes.
But when the unfeasibly large plates are placed before
us, I can’t help think how I ha一ve thought of Christian today
—relaxed, happy and carefree. At least he’s laughing now,
at ease again.
I breathe an inward sigh of relief as he starts quizzing
me about pl
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