Chapter 39

Who is it on the phone?

I hear Kavanagh’s name mentioned and I tense. What is she saying? Our eyes lock.

What are you saying, Ana?

She turns away and a moment later hangs up, then walks back toward me, her hips swaying in a soft, seductive rhythm beneath my shirt. Should I tell her what I can see?

“The NDA, does it cover everything?” she asks, halting me in my tracks as I shut the pantry cupboard.

“Why?” Where’s she going with this? What has she said to Kavanagh?

She takes a deep breath. “Well, I have a few questions, you know, about sex. And I’d like to ask Kate.”

“You can ask me.”

“Christian, with all due respect—” She stops.

She’s embarrassed?

“It’s just about mechanics. I won’t mention the Red Room of Pain,” she says in a rush.

“Red Room of Pain?”

What the hell?

“It’s mostly about pleasure, Anastasia. Believe me. Besides, your roommate is making the beast with two backs with my brother. I’d really rather you didn’t.”

I don’t want Elliot to know anything about my sex life. He’d never let me live it down.

“Does your family know about your…um, predilection?”

“No. It’s none of their business.”

She’s burning to ask something.

“What do you want to know?” I ask, standing in front of her, scrutinizing her face.

What is it, Ana?

“Nothing specific at the moment,” she whispers.

“Well, we can start with: how was last night for you?” My breathing shallows as I wait for her answer. Our whole deal could hang on her response.

“Good,” she says, and gives me a soft, sexy smile.

It’s what I want to hear.

“For me, too. I’ve never had vanilla sex before. There’s a lot to be said for it. But then, maybe it’s because it’s with you.”

Her surprise and pleasure at my words are obvious. I brush her plump lower lip with my thumb. I’m itching to touch her…again. “Come, let’s have a bath.” I kiss her and take her into my bathroom.

“Stay there,” I order, turning the faucet, then adding scented oil to the steaming water. The tub fills quickly as she watches me. Normally, I would expect any woman I was about to bathe with to have her eyes cast down in modesty.

But not Ana.

She doesn’t drop her gaze, and her eyes glow with anticipation and curiosity. But she has her arms wrapped around herself; she’s shy.

It’s arousing.

And to think she’s never bathed with a man.

I can claim another first.

When the bath is full I peel off my T-shirt and hold out my hand. “Miss Steele.”

She accepts my invitation and steps into the bath.

“Turn around, face me,” I instruct. “I know that lip is delicious, I can attest to that, but will you stop biting it? Your chewing it makes me want to fuck you, and you’re sore, okay?”

She inhales sharply, releasing her lip.

“Yeah. Get the picture?”

Still standing, she gives me an emphatic nod.

“Good.” She’s still wearing my shirt and I take the iPod from the breast pocket and place it by the sink. “Water and iPods—not a clever combination.” I grab the hem and pull it off her. Immediately she hangs her head when I step back to admire her.

“Hey.” My voice is gentle and encourages her to peek up at me. “Anastasia, you’re a very beautiful woman, the whole package. Don’t hang your head like you’re ashamed. You have nothing to be ashamed of, and it’s a real joy to stand here and look at you.” Holding her chin, I tip her head back.

Don’t hide from me, baby.

“You can sit down now.”

She sits down with indecent haste and winces as her sore body hits the water.

Okay…

She screws her eyes shut as she lies back, but when she opens them, she looks more relaxed. “Why don’t you join me?” she asks with a coy smile.

“I think I will. Move forward.” Stripping, I climb in behind her, pull her to my chest, and place my legs around hers, my feet over her ankles, and then I pull her legs apart.

She wriggles against me, but I ignore her motion and bury my nose in her hair. “You smell so good, Anastasia,” I whisper.

She settles and I grab the body wash from the shelf beside us. Squeezing some into my hand, I work the soap into a lather and start massaging her neck and shoulders. She moans as her head lolls to one side under my tender ministration.

“You like that?” I ask.

“Hmm,” she hums in contentment.

I wash her arms and her underarms, then reach my first goal: her breasts.

Lord, the feel of her.

She has perfect breasts. I knead and tease them. She groans and flexes her hips and her breathing accelerates. She’s aroused. My body responds in kind, growing beneath her.

My hands skim over her torso and her belly toward my second goal. Before I reach her pubic hair I stop and grab a washcloth. Squirting some soap onto the cloth, I begin the slow process of washing between her legs. Gentle, slow but sure, rubbing, washing, cleaning, stimulating. She starts to pant and her hips move in synchronization with my hand. Her head resting against my shoulder, her eyes closed, her mouth open in a silent moan as she surrenders to my relentless fingers.

“Feel it, baby.” I run my teeth along her earlobe. “Feel it for me.”

“Oh, please,” she whines, and she tries to straighten her legs, but I have them pinioned under mine.