With a heavy sigh and a last glance at Seattle spread like cloths of gold at my feet, I decide to call Ray. I haven’t spoken to him for a while. It’s a brief conversation as per usual, but I ascertain he’s fine and that I’m interrupting an important soccer match.
«Hope all is well with Christian,” he says casually, and I know he’s fishing for information but doesn’t really want to know.
«Yeah. We’re cool.» Sort of, and I’m moving in with him. Though we haven’t discussed a timetable.
«Love you, Dad.»
«Love you, too, Annie.»
I hang up and check my watch. It’s only ten. Because of our discussion, I am feeling strangely innervated and restless.
I shower quickly, and back in the bedroom, decide to wear one of the nightdresses that Caroline Acton procured for me from Neiman Marcus. Christian’s always moaning about my T–shirts. There are three. I choose the pale pink and put it on over my head. The fabric skims across my skin, caressing and clinging to me as it falls around my body. It feels luxurious—the finest, thinnest satin. Holy crap. In the mirror, I look like a 1930s movie star. It’s long, elegant—and very un–me.
I grab the matching robe and decide to hunt out a book in the library. I could read on my iPad—but right now, I want the comfort and reassurance of a physical book. I’ll leave Christian alone. Perhaps he’ll recover his good humor once he’s finished working.
There are so many books in Christian’s library. Scanning every title will take forever. I glance occasionally at the billiard table and flush as I recall our previous evening. I smile when I see that the ruler is still on the floor. Picking it up, I swat my palm. Ow! It stings.
Why can’t I take a little more pain for my man? Disconsolately, I place it on the desk and continue my hunt for a good read.
Most of the books are first editions. How can he have amassed a collection like this in such a short time? Perhaps Taylor’s job description includes book buying. I settle on Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier. I haven’t read this for a long time. I smile as I curl up in one of the overstuffed armchairs and read the first line:
I am jostled awake as Christian lifts me in his arms.
«Hey,” he murmurs, «you fell asleep. I couldn’t find you.» He nuzzles my hair. Sleepily, I put my arms around his neck and breathe in his scent—oh, he smells so good—as he carries me back to the bedroom. He lays me down on the bed and covers me.
«Sleep, baby,” he whispers and he presses his lips against my forehead.
I wake suddenly from a disturbing dream and am momentarily disorientated. I find myself anxiously checking the end of the bed, but there’s no one there. Drifting from the great room, I hear the faint strains of a complex melody from the piano.
What time is it? I check the alarm clock—two in the morning. Has Christian come to sleep at all? I disentangle my legs from my robe, which I’m still wearing, and clamber out of bed.
In the great room, I stand in the shadows, listening. Christian is lost to the music. He looks safe and secure in his bubble of light. And the tune he plays has a lilting melody, parts of which sound familiar, but so elaborate. Jeez, he’s good. Why does this always take me by surprise?
The whole scene looks different somehow, and I realize that the piano lid is down, giving me an unhindered view. He glances up and our eyes lock, his gray and softly luminous in the diffuse glow of the lamp. He continues to play, not faltering at all, as I make my way over to him. His eyes follow me, drinking me in, burning brighter. As I reach him, he stops.
«Why did you stop? That was lovely.»
«Do you have any idea how desirable you look at the moment?» he says, his voice soft.
Oh. «Come to bed,” I whisper and his eyes heat as he holds out his hand. When I take it, he tugs unexpectedly so I fall into his lap. He wraps his arms around me and nuzzles my neck behind my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
«Why do we fight?» he whispers, as his teeth graze my earlobe.
Holy cow. My heart skips a beat, then starts pounding, coursing heat throughout my body.
«Because we’re getting to know each other, and you’re stubborn and cantankerous and moody and difficult,” I murmur breathlessly, shifting my head to give him better access to my throat. He runs his nose down my neck, and I feel his smile.
«I’m all those things, Miss Steele. It’s a wonder you put up with me.» He nips my earlobe and I moan. «Is it always like this?» he sighs.
«I have no idea.»
«Me neither.» He yanks the sash of my robe so it falls open, and his hand skims down my body, over my breast. My nipples harden beneath his gentle touch and strain against the satin. He continues down to my waist, down to my hip.
