When at last she emerged, she was more delectably fragrant than before and dressed in the uniform.
“Thank you so much,” she breathed, flinging herself back on the bed. She twisted around to face him, her skin dewy and flushed, alive with health. The otherworldly blue of her eyes glistened like melting ice in the summer sun, an image made all the stronger because of her new morning-meadow scent. “I had no idea how much I needed that.”
Beneath the hunger for her was a satisfaction that his actions had brought her to this point: relaxed, refreshed and delighted.
“Have you been standing there the whole time?” she asked.
A stiff nod.
“But I was in there for over an hour.”
He knew. He’d done nothing but count the seconds. There were three thousand, six hundred seconds in an hour, and she’d spent three thousand, seven hundred and four seconds in there.
She paused, nibbling on her bottom lip as he’d noticed she was prone to do. It was an action that betrayed a sense of nervousness. He couldn’t help but stare. He wanted his own lips on her, soothing whatever wounds she caused.
“Are you thinking about kissing me?” she asked.
“I am, yes,” he said.
She gulped. “I can’t believe I’m even contemplating this, after I told myself—and you!—that I never would. But you’re being such a sweetheart that I can’t seem to help myself.”
Every muscle in his body tensed. “You mean…?”
“Yeah. I mean. I have a question for you first.”
“Ask.” Anything.
“Will you let me…well, tie you up?”
His blood, already heating, went molten. “If you wish, but you should know that no chains can hold me. I would be bound simply to ease your mind.”
“Well, it’s not really easing to know you could bust free!” A moment later, her shoulders slumped against the mound of pillows. “I wouldn’t be able to do it, anyway.”
He barely managed to cut off his roar of denial. “Kiss me?”
“No, bind you.”
“Because you hated being bound yourself.” A statement, not a question. He was learning her.
“Exactly.” There was an eternity of silence before she gave a soft sigh. “But okay, all right. We can try the kissing thing again. But I’m in charge,” she rushed out. “You have to do what I tell you, when I tell you.”
Elation sprang through the fissure still growing in his chest, followed quickly by determination. He would get this right. He had to get this right. She wouldn’t give him another chance. “I will not disappoint you.”
A tremor moved through her.
A tremor of apprehension? Though every cell he possessed screamed to close the distance between them, he rocked back on his heels, staying in place, giving her time to come to grips with what would soon happen. “What convinced you?”
Her gaze lowered and she whispered, “The bath. I was reclining in the tub, loving the warmth of the water, but all I could think about was the fact that I was alone. I imagined what it would be like if you were in there with me, washing my hair, rubbing my shoulders. Just…I don’t know, holding me close.”
The fantasy was admitted with so much longing he could restrain himself no longer.
Zacharel approached the bed. She watched him, licked her lips, flattened her hands on the bed, then on her stomach, then on the bed again, as if she couldn’t decide which was best. He placed one knee on the mattress, leaned forward. Her breathing quickened. Slow and easy. He crawled over her, gently clasped her by the waist and rolled them both, flaring his wings as he placed her on top of him. She gasped at the swiftness of his motions, but she didn’t bolt away. However, she did sit up, refusing to recline against him.
He lay there, waiting, thinking she would relax. Her eyes were closed, the long length of her lashes casting spiky shadows over her cheeks. With every second that passed, however, she tensed a little more.
“Annabelle.”
“Yes.”
“Look at me,” he said.
Those lids squeezed tight. “No.”
“Annabelle. Please.”
“Now you say please?”