Page 23 of Snow Bound

Anna came downstairs at five minutes to eight in the same clothes she’d worn that morning. She’d debated changing into something sexier, but a quick rummage through her wardrobe reminded her that she’d packed for two weeks with family, not a hot Dom. She had the work clothes she’d been wearing when she arrived, having left Chicago straight from the office, but accountant-attire wasn’t any sexier than the yoga pants, so comfort had won out.

But she’d bathed, soaking in the big tub until her fingers had gone to prunes. She’d shaved everything that needed shaving—and a few things that didn’t—slathered on the lotion she’d treated herself to on her last birthday, and painted her toes a vibrant blue that almost matched her sweater.

She doubted he’d notice, but having her toes painted made her feel pretty and more prepared, and the ritual of it had soothed her nerves.

Nerves that came leaping to frantic life when she hit the bottom of the stairs and saw him waiting.

He was wearing the jeans and flannel shirt he’d worn to the store earlier, his feet bare. He’d angled one of the chairs closer to the fireplace, the firelight casting dancing shadows over the planes and angles of his face. He had a notebook on his lap, a bottle of Kimberly’s fancy French water in one hand, and the dog sleeping at his feet.

Though she was certain he heard her, he kept his eyes on the notebook until she hit the last stair. Then he looked up, aiming the full force of that icy blue stare her way, and smiled.

“You’re prompt.”

She wanted to fidget, and only sheer will kept her hands at her sides. “If you’re not five minutes early, you’re late.”

“One of those, huh?” Humor crinkled at the corners of his eyes, his mouth, but the intensity of that gaze never faltered.

She didn’t know how to answer that, so she just sat down on the hearth, the fire leaping at her back.

The crinkles deepened. “I didn’t see you come down for food. Have you eaten?”

She almost explained that she’d taken food up to eat in the tub, then decided he didn’t need to know that. “Yes.”

“What did you have?”

“Brie, French bread, grapes, and some cured Spanish ham.”

Interest lit his eyes. “I didn’t see that in the fridge.”

“I ate it all.” She tucked her tongue in her cheek when he scowled. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, you look overcome with remorse,” he grumbled, and she disguised a chuckle with a cough. He shot her a look that told her he wasn’t fooled a bit and set his water aside. “Did you have any alcohol?”

She’d been tempted, if only to take the edge off her nerves, but… “I stuck with water.”

“Good.” He picked up the notebook on his lap, scanned the page, then flipped it closed. “Tell me your five things.”

Her throat had gone tight, her belly was flip-flopping all over the place, and she thought if she tried to move her wobbly knees would put her on the floor.

It felt awesome.

“Anna?” he prompted.

“Sorry,” she said and cleared her throat. “Five things. Um. Bondage, spanking. Being held down, which I guess is just a different kind of bondage.”

She paused to suck in air so she wouldn’t pass out before they got to the good stuff. “Gags, dirty talk, and butt stuff.”

His gaze was steady, his voice calm. “What kind of butt stuff?”

“Plugs and fingers and…and tongues,” she replied and felt her cheeks heat.

His expression didn’t so much as flicker. “Not anal sex?”

“I’ve never done it,” she confessed. “I want to, but it’s just never felt right. And I feel like I need to be prepared for it.”

He nodded in understanding. “All right, we’ll take that off the table for now. What kind of dirty talk?”

“The stuff you said last night worked,” she began, then forgot the rest of what she was going to say when he grinned, wide and wicked.

---