esses some buttons, and after a moment, the
sound of a subway train echoes round the room. He turns
it down so that the slow, hypnotic electronic beat that
follows becomes ambient. A woman starts to sing, I don’t
know who she is but her voice is soft yet rasping and the
beat is measured, deliberate . . . erotic. Oh my. It’s music
to make love to.
Christian turns to face me as I stand in the middle of
the room, my heart pounding, my blood singing in my
veins, pulsing—or so it feels—in time to the music’s
seductive beat. He saunters casually over to me and tugs
on my chin so I’m no longer biting my lip.
“What do you want to do, Anastasia?” he murmurs,
planting a soft chaste kiss at the corner of my mouth, his
fingers still grasping my chin.
“It’s your birthday. Whatever you want,” I whisper.
He traces his thumb along my lower lip, his brow creased
once more.
“Are we in here because you think I want to be in
here?” His words are softly spoken, but he regards me
intently.
“No,” I whisper. “I want to be in here, too.”
His gaze darkens, growing bolder as he assesses my
response. After what seems an eternity, he speaks.
“Oh, there are so many possibilities, Miss Steele.” His
voice is low, excited. “But let’s start with getting you
naked.” He pulls the sash of my robe so that it falls open,
revealing my silk nightdress, then steps back and sits
nonchalantly down on the arm of the chesterfield couch.
nonchalantly down on the arm of the chesterfield couch.
“Take your clothes off. Slowly.” He gives me a
sensual, challenging look.
I swallow compulsively, pressing my thighs together.
I’m already damp between my legs. My inner goddess is
stripped naked and standing in line, ready and waiting and
begging me to play catch-up. I pull the robe away from my
shoulders, my eyes never lea一ving his, and shrug, letting it
fall billowing to the floor. His mesmerizing gray eyes heat,
and he runs his index finger over his lips as he gazes at me.
Slipping the spaghetti straps of my gown off my
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