s to a stop.
I can’t help my face-splitting grin, and I want to hug
myself. He loves it. Of course, he’s all about alternative
technologies. I’d forgotten that in my haste to buy it.
Placing it on the chest of drawers, he turns to face me.
“It’ll keep me company while we salvage Charlie
Tango.”
“Is it salvageable?”
“I don’t know. I hope so. I’ll miss her, otherwise.”
“I don’t know. I hope so. I’ll miss her, otherwise.”
Her? I am shocked at myself for the small pang of
jealousy I feel for an inanimate object. My subconscious
snorts with derisory laughter. I ignore her.
“What’s in the other box?” he asks, his eyes wide with
almost childish excitement.
Holy fuck. “I’m not sure if this present is for you or
me.”
“Really?” he asks, and I know I ha一ve piqued his
interest. Nervously I hand him the second box. He shakes
it gently and we both hear a hea一vy rattle. He glances up at
me.
“Why are you so nervous?” he asks, bemused. I shrug,
embarrassed and excited as I flush. He raises an eyebrow
at me.
“You ha一ve me intrigued, Miss Steele,” he whispers,
and his voice runs right through me, desire and anticipation
spawning in my belly. “I ha一ve to say I’m enjoying your
reaction. What ha一ve you been up to?” He narrows his
eyes speculatively.
eyes speculatively.
I remain tight-lipped as I hold my breath.
He removes the lid of the box and takes out a small
card. The rest of the contents are wrapped in tissue. He
opens the card, and his eyes dart quickly to mine—
widening with shock or surprise. I just don’t know.
“Do rude things to you?” he murmurs. I nod and
swallow. He cocks his head to one side warily, assessing
my reaction, and frowns. Then turns his attention back to
the box. He tears through the pale-blue tissue paper and
fishes out an eye mask, some nipple clamps, a butt plug,
his iPod, his silver-gray tie—and last but by no means least
—the key to his playroom.
He gazes at me, his expression dark, unreadable. Oh
shit. Is this a bad move?
“You want to play?” he asks softly.
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