take me home and
fuck me.”
His mouth drops open then he laughs, surprised. Now
he looks young and carefree. Oh, to hear him laugh. I love
it because it’s so rare.
“You’re a born romantic, Miss Steele.” He takes my
hand, and we head out of the building to where the valet
stands by my Saab.
“So you want sex in a car,” Christian murmurs as he
switches on the ignition.
“Quite frankly, I would ha一ve been happy with the
lobby floor.”
“Trust me, Ana, so would I. But I don’t fancy being
arrested at this time of night, and I didn’t want to fuck you
in a restroom. Well, not today.”
What! “You mean there was a possibility?”
“Oh yes.”
“Let’s go back.”
He turns to gaze at me and laughs. His laughter is
infectious; soon we’re both laughing—wonderful,
cathartic, head-held-back laughter. Reaching over, he
places his hand on my knee, caressing it gently with long
skilled fingers. I stop laughing.
“Patience, Anastasia,” he murmurs and pulls into the
Seattle traffic.
He parks the Saab in the Escala garage and turns off the
engine. Suddenly, in the confines of the car, the
atmosphere between us changes. With wanton
anticipation, I glance at him, trying to contain my
palpitating heart. He’s turned toward me, leaning against
the door, his elbow propped on the steering wheel.
He pulls his lower lip with his thumb and index finger.
His mouth is so distracting. I want it on me. He’s watching
me intently, his eyes dark gray. My mouth goes dry. He
smiles a slow sexy smile.
“We will fuck in the car at a time and place of my
choosing. Right now, I want to take you on every a一vailable
surface of my apartment.”
It’s like he’s addressing me below the waist . . . my
inner goddess performs four arabesques and a pas de
Basque.
“Yes.” Jeez, I sound so breathy, desperate.
He leans forward a fraction. I close my eyes, waiting
for his kiss, thinking—finally. But nothing happens. After a
moment, I open my eyes to find him gazing at me. I can’t
figure out what he’s thinking, but before I can say anything,
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