Page 75 of Healing the Heart

Fiona thought, and hoped, he’d strip her of her clothes and take her on the couch, the floor, the entryway—there were so many options—but he pulled away. His strained expression made it clear he’d rather have done anything else.

“We’ll pick up where we left off later. We need to leave in an hour, or we’ll lose our table.”

“Okay,” she replied, although it really wasn’t. Dinner and the club they could do anytime, but how often did an unbelievably hot, uber-masculine dominant fuck her against a door?

“If you keep looking at me that way, we’ll be late.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, but didn’t budge.

“If we’re late, I’m going to give you a different kind of birthday spanking than I originally had in mind.”

“Okay,” she repeated, his threat not the deterrent he thought it was.

He realized this and laughed, his mouth swooping down on hers again, hot, demanding, and over too darn fast.

With his hands on her shoulders, he turned her toward the hall and smacked her bottom lightly to get her going.

“That’s one, but there’s thirty-three more where that came from.”

She looked back at him with a pout. “You can’t mean for that one to count.”

His brows lifted. “Why not?”

“Weak sauce, sir.”

Chuckling, he shooed her down the hall. “Go. Your present awaits.”

“Oh yeah. I almost forgot.” Grinning with eagerness, she practically ran down the hall, his muttered, “Fickle, kitty,” echoing after her.

DINNER WAS FILET MIGNONat one of the best steakhouses in LA. Noah looked amazing in his heather-gray suit and burgundy tie, and, she had to admit, she looked good in the burgundy wrap dress he’d gifted her, the deep V neckline, pretty cap sleeves, and body-hugging silhouette very flattering. He’d included shoes, a matching lace bra, perfume—designer, which went for hundreds of dollars an ounce—and nothing else.

Specifically, no panties.

As such, that he allowed a bra surprised her. After she’d mentioned it often, he would know she felt too self-conscious in public without one. The club, yes. He revealed her almostDD cup tatas to all and sundry on the main floor. At a five-star restaurant, to bounce and flounce every which way, not happening.

Her heart turned over at the realization of how careful he was with her. He might spank her with a ruler, take her ass whenever he wanted, strip her to her panties on a Friday night with nearly 1000 club members in attendance, and walk the circuit with his hand in said panties, front or back, but activities of that sort he reserved for private times. She was certain he would never deliberately embarrass her.

As the car came to a stop, the sudden silence of the engine broke her train of thought. As did his hand, spearing into her hair and cupping the back of her head as he dragged her to him across the center console.

He angled her face to the moonlight coming in through his driver’s side window. “You’re quiet. What’s going through your head?”

“I was thinking about how good you are to me, and this is hands down the best birthday I’ve had.”

“Why do I get the feeling it’s the first birthday you ever had?”

“Because it is. To sum it up, my mom sucked.”

“Which is why you left home to make it on your own at seventeen. Full disclosure, kitten. I have a full background report on Fiona Marie Delacour from birth to today sitting in my inbox. I’ve put off reading it, thinking you’d prefer to tell me about your mother, but I can’t put it off forever. There might be something in there I need to know to keep you safe.”

“She wasn’t abusive, unless neglect and disdain count. She shouldn’t have been a mom. Truly. I was an accident when she was still in high school. My grandparents were strict Catholics and wouldn’t consider alternatives.”

“Why didn’t they raise you?”

“I was her penance for being a bad girl.”

“Oh, kitten...” he uttered softly with palpable sympathy.

“Yeah. When I was old enough to stay by myself, she got a little wild. She drank too much, ran with the wrong crowd, and she had a lot of men.”

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