He inhales sharply.
“Here?” he asks suggestively, raising an eyebrow at me, smiling wickedly, his teeth trapping the tip of his tongue.
“Don’t bite your lip,” he orders. “Not here, not now.” His eyes harden momentarily, and for a moment, he looks so deliciously dangerous. “If I can’t have you here, don’t tempt me.”“Hi, My name’s Leandra, What can I get for you… er… folks… er… today, this mornin… ?” Her voice trails off, stumbling over her words as she gets an eye full of Mr.
Beautiful opposite me. She flushes scarlet, and a small ounce of sympathy for her bubbles unwelcome into my consciousness because he still does that to me. Her presence allows me to escape briefly from his sensual glare.
“Anastasia?” he prompts me, ignoring her, and I don’t think anyone could squeeze as much carnality into my name as he does at that moment.
I swallow, praying that I don’t go the same color as poor Leandra.
“I told you, I want what you want.” I keep my voice soft, low, and he looks at me hun-grily. Jeez, my inner goddess swoons.
Leandra looks from me to him and back again. She’s practically the same color as her shiny red hair.
“Shall I give you folks another minute to decide?”
“No. We know what we want.” Christian’s mouth twitches with a small, sexy smile.
“We’ll have two portions of the original buttermilk pancakes with maple syrup and bacon on the side, two glasses of orange juice, one black coffee with skim milk, and one English breakfast tea, if you have it,” says Christian, not taking his eyes off me.
“Thank you sir. Will that be all?” Leandra whispers, looking anywhere but at the two of us. We both turn to stare at her, and she flushes crimson again and scuttles away.
“You know it’s really not fair.” I glance down at the Formica tabletop, tracing a pattern in it with my index finger, trying to sound nonchalant.
“What’s not fair?”
“How you disarm people. Women. Me.”
“Do I disarm you?”
I snort.
“All the time.”
“It’s just looks, Anastasia,” he says mildly.
“No, Christian, it’s much more than that.”
His brow creases.
“You disarm me totally, Miss Steele. Your innocence. It cuts through all the crap.”
“Is that why you’ve changed your mind?”
“Changed my mind?”
“Yes – about … err… us?”
He strokes his chin thoughtfully with his long, skilled fingers.
“I don’t think I’ve changed my mind per se. We just need to re-define our parameters, re-draw our battle lines, if you will. We can make this work, I’m sure. I want you submissive in my playroom. I will punish you if you digress from the rules. Other than that…
well, I think it’s all up for discussion. Those are my requirements, Miss Steele. What say you to that?”
“So I get to sleep with you? In your bed?”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes.”
“I agree then. Besides, I sleep very well when you’re in my bed. I had no idea.” His brow creases as his voice fades.
“I was frightened you’d leave me if I didn’t agree to all of it,” I whisper.
“I’m not going anywhere, Anastasia. Besides… ” He trails off, and after some thought, he adds. “We’re following your advice, your definition: compromise. You emailed it to me. And so far, it’s working for me.”
“I love that you want more,” I murmur shyly.
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
“Trust me. I just do.” He smirks at me. He’s hiding something.
At that moment, Leandra arrives with breakfast and our conversation ceases. My stomach rumbles, reminding me how ravenous I am. Christian watches with annoying approval as I devour everything on my plate.
“Can I treat you?” I ask Christian.
