“She seemed determined to keep us apart.”
“Yes, she’s quite accomplished.” And annoying. She is…Mia. My baby sister. I squeeze Ana’s knee. “But we got there in the end.” I offer her a brief smile, then check the rearview mirror. “I don’t think we’ve been followed.”
I take the next off-ramp and head back into downtown Seattle.
“Can I ask you something about Elena?” Ana asks, when we’re stopped at a red light.
“If you must.” But I really wish she wouldn’t.
“You told me ages ago that she loved you in a way you found acceptable. What did that mean?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not to me.”
“I was out of control. I couldn’t bear to be touched. I can’t bear it now. For a fourteen-, fifteen-year-old adolescent boy with hormones raging, it was a difficult time. She showed me a way to let off steam.”
“Mia said you were a brawler.”
“Christ, what is it with my loquacious family?” We’re stopped at the next red. I glare at her. “Actually, it’s you. You inveigle information out of people.”
“Mia volunteered that information. In fact, she was very forthcoming. She was worried you’d start a brawl in the tent if you didn’t win me at the auction,” she says.
“Oh, baby, there was no danger of that. There was no way I would let anyone else dance with you.”
“You let Dr. Flynn.”
“He’s always the exception to the rule.”
I turn into the driveway of the Fairmont Olympic Hotel. A valet scrambles out to meet us and I pull up toward him.
“Come,” I say to Ana and get out of the car to retrieve our luggage. I toss the keys to the enthusiastic young man. “Name of Taylor,” I inform him.
The lobby is quiet, save for some random woman and her dog. At this time? Odd.
The receptionist checks us in. “Do you need a hand with your bags, Mr. Taylor?” she asks.
“No, Mrs. Taylor and I can manage.”
“You’re in the Cascade Suite, Mr. Taylor, eleventh floor. Our bellboy will help with your bags.”
“We’re fine. Where are the elevators?”
She directs us, and as we wait, I ask Ana how she’s holding up. She looks worn out.
“It’s been an interesting evening,” she says, with her usual gift for understatement.
Taylor has booked us into the largest suite in the hotel. I’m surprised to discover it has two bedrooms. I wonder if Taylor is expecting us to sleep apart, as I do with my submissives. Maybe I should tell him this doesn’t apply to Ana.
“Well, Mrs. Taylor, I don’t know about you, but I’d really like a drink,” I say, as Ana follows me into the master bedroom, where I set our overnight bags on the ottoman.
Back in the main living room there’s a fire burning in the hearth. Ana warms her hands while I fix a drink at the bar. She looks gamine, adorable, and her dark hair shines coppery and bright in the firelight.
“Armagnac?”
“Please,” she says.
By the fire, I hand her a brandy glass. “It’s been quite a day, huh?” I gauge her reaction. I’m amazed, given all the drama of the evening, that she hasn’t broken down and wept by now.
“I’m okay,” she says. “How about you?”
I’m wired.
Anxious.
Angry.
I know of one thing that will give me relief.
You, Miss Steele.
My panacea.
“Well, right now I’d like to drink this, and then, if you’re not too tired, take you to bed and lose myself in you.” I’m really chancing my luck. She must be exhausted.
“I think that can be arranged, Mr. Taylor,” she says, and rewards me with a shy smile.
Oh, Ana. You’re my heroine.
I slip out of my shoes and socks. “Mrs. Taylor, stop biting your lip,” I murmur. She takes a sip of her Armagnac and closes her eyes. She hums her appreciation for her drink. The sound soft and mellow and oh so sexy.
I feel it in my groin.
She really is something else.
“You never cease to amaze me, Anastasia. After a day like today, or yesterday, rather, you’re not whining or running off into the hills screaming. I am in awe of you. You’re very strong.”
“You’re a very good reason to stay,” she whispers.
That strange feeling swells in my chest. Scarier than the darkness. Bigger. More potent. It has the power to wound.
“I told you, Christian, I’m not going anywhere, no matter what you’ve done. You know how I feel about you.”
Oh, baby, you’d run if you knew the truth.
“Where are you going to hang José’s portraits of me?” she asks, throwing me for a loop.
“That depends,” I respond, bemused that she can change tack so quickly.
“On what?”
“Circumstances.” It’ll depend on whether she stays. I don’t think I could bear to look at them when she’s no longer mine.
If. If she’s no longer mine.
“His show’s not over yet, so I don’t have to decide straightaway.” I still don’t know when the gallery will deliver them, in spite of my request.
She narrows her eyes, studying me, as if I’m hiding something.
Yeah. My fear. That’s what I’m hiding.
“You can look as sternly as you like, Mrs. Taylor. I’m saying nothing,” I tease.
“I may torture the truth from you.”
“Really, Anastasia, I don’t think you should make promises you can’t fulfill.”
She narrows her eyes once more, but this time, she’s amused. She places her glass on the mantelpiece, then takes mine and sets it beside hers. “We’ll just have to see about that,” she says with cool determination in her voice. Grasping my hand, she guides me into the bedroom.
Ana is taking the lead.
This hasn’t happened since that time in my study when she jumped me.
Go with it, Grey.
At the foot of the bed, she stops.
“Now that you have me in here, Anastasia, what are you going to do with me?”
She looks up at me, eyes shining, full of love, and I swallow, awed at the sight of her. “I’m going to start by undressing you. I want to finish what I started earlier.”
All the breath leaves my body.
She grasps the lapels of my jacket and gently eases it off my shoulders. She turns and places it on the ottoman and I catch a trace of her fragrance.
Ana.
“Now your T-shirt,” she says. I feel bolder. I know she won’t touch me. Her road-map idea was a good one, and I still have the smudged remains of the lipstick on my chest and back. I raise my arms and take a step back as she tugs my T-shirt over my head.
Her lips part as she surveys my torso, and I itch to touch her, but I’m loving her slow, sweet seduction.
We’re doing it her way.
“Now what?” I murmur.
“I want to kiss you here.” She runs a fingernail across my belly from hipbone to hipbone.
Fuck.
I tense everywhere as all the blood in my body heads south. “I’m not stopping you,” I whisper.
Grabbing my hand, she instructs me to lie down.
With my pants on?
Okay.
I remove the covers on the bed and sit down, my eyes on Ana, waiting to see what she’ll do next. She shrugs out of my denim jacket and lets it fall to the floor; my sweatpants follow, and it takes all my self-control not to grab her and toss her onto the bed.