he distracts me once more.
“If I kiss you now we won’t make it into the
apartment. Come.”
Gah! Could this man be any more frustrating? He
climbs out of the car.
Once again, we wait for the elevator, my body thrumming
with anticipation. Christian holds my hand, running his
thumb rhythmically across my knuckles, each stroke
echoing through me. Oh, I want his hands on all of me.
He’s tortured me long enough.
“So, what happened to instant gratification?” I murmur
while we wait.
Christian smirks down at me.
“It’s not appropriate in every situation, Anastasia.”
“Since when?”
“Since when?”
“Since this evening.”
“Why are you torturing me so?”
“Tit for tat, Miss Steele.”
“How am I torturing you?”
“I think you know.”
I gaze up at him and his expression is difficult to read.
He wants my answer . . . that’s it.
“I’m into delayed gratification, too,” I whisper, smiling
shyly.
He tugs my hand unexpectedly, and suddenly I am in
his arms. He grabs the hair at the nape of my neck, pulling
gently so my head tips back.
“What can I do to make you say yes?” he asks
fervently, throwing me off balance once more. I blink at
him—at his lovely, serious, desperate expression.
“Give me some time? Please,” I murmur. He groans
and finally he kisses me, long and hard. Then we’re in the
elevator, and we’re all hands and mouths and tongues and
lips and fingers and hair. Desire, thick and strong, lances
through my blood, clouding all my reason. He pushes me
against the wall, pinning me with his hips, one hand in my
hair, the other at my chin, holding me in place.
“You own me,” he whispers. “My fate is in your hands,
Ana.”
His words are intoxicating, and in my overheated state,
I want to rip off his clothes. I push off his jacket, and as
the elevator arrives at the apartment, we tumble out into
the foyer.
Christian pins me to the wall by the elevator, his jacket
Christian pins me to the wall by the elevator, his jacket
falling to the floor, and his hand tra一vels up my leg, his lips
never lea一ving min
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