s, grasps my hand, and heads for the
elevator. I know his brain is working overtime—he’s
distracted. Once we’re inside he turns to me.
“You are not allowed out of here alone. You
understand?” he snaps.
“Okay.” Jeez—keep your hair on. But his attitude
makes me smile. I want to hug myself—now this man, all
domineering and short with me I know. I marvel that I
would ha一ve found it so threatening only a week or so ago
when he spoke to me this way. But now, I understand him
so much better. This is his coping mechanism. He’s
stressed about Leila, he loves me, and he wants to protect
me.
“What’s so funny?” he murmurs, a hint of amusement
in his expression.
“You are.”
“Me? Miss Steele? Why am I funny?” he pouts.
Christian pouting is . . . hot.
“Don’t pout.”
“Why?” He’s even more amused.
“Why?” He’s even more amused.
“Because it has the same effect on me as I ha一ve on you
when I do this.” I bite my lip deliberately.
He raises his eyebrows, surprised and pleased at the
same time. “Really?” He pouts again and leans down to
give me a swift chaste kiss.
I raise my lips to meet his, and in the nanosecond when
our lips touch, the nature of the kiss changes—wildfire
spreading through my veins from this intimate point of
contact, driving me to him.
Suddenly, my fingers are curling in his hair as he grabs
me and pushes me against the elevator wall, his hands
framing my face, holding me to his lips as our tongues
thrash against each other. And I don’t know if it’s the
confines of the elevator making everything much more real,
but I feel his need, his anxiety, his passion.
Holy shit. I want him, here, now.
The elevator pings to a halt, the doors slide open, and
Christian drags his face from mine, his hips still pinning me
to the wall, his erection digging into me.
to the wall, his erection digging into me.
“Whoa,” he murmurs panting.
“Whoa,” I mirror him, dragging a welcome breath into
my lungs.
He gazes at me, eyes blazing. “What you do to me,
Ana.” He traces my lower lip with his thu
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