The lovely bulge beneath Anne made her want to smile. Made her want to start some action right then and there. But their conversation wasn’t over, and burying problems hadn’t worked well for them.
She indulged herself for just a tiny second, nuzzling his neck to inhale the lingering fragrance of his earthy aftershave and his own underlying, totally masculine scent.
His arms tightened…and the erection beneath her thickened.
Oops. She cleared her throat. “I believe it’s time to move into thinking about you and me and how you asked to keep the D/s within a sexual context.”
Every muscle on his body tensed.
Her realization of the depth of his need was glorious and humbling.
“Anne, if I thought I could take the full time, I—”
“I think it’ll work,” she said quickly. “I want to try.”
His arms turned to steel bars around her as he rasped, “What?”
“Disgusting as the word is, I’ve changed. I don’t need to control everything and everyone any longer. I suppose the need for full-time domination arose from my own fears.” She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and barely resisted a nibble. “But I’m still totally a sexual Dominant.”
He huffed a laugh. “I’m good with that.”
“It might be nice to live with someone who isn’t a slave. You like me as more than a Mistress—as Anne. I can relax with you.”
She lifted up far enough to capture his lips, those firm knowledgeable lips. God, she’d missed kissing him, missed the way he could make her feel both delicate and powerful, like the time she’d ridden a Clydesdale, knowing the huge horse could easily kill her if it had wanted.
After a minute or more, she sat back. Holding his gaze, she ventured even further out of her comfort zone. “Would…would you like to move in?”
His answer came instantly. “Hell, yes. I love you, Anne.”
Her breath halted as her heart swelled until it took up all the room there was in her chest. He’d said it.
“Ben.” The word was barely audible, and she had to blink back tears. Damn hormones.
His big hand stroked her cheek. “Since we got all that settled, now can I beg the Mistress to take me to the bedroom and punish me?”
“I suppose I can fit you into my busy schedule.” She had a second of grief for the knowledge that she didn’t have a schedule any longer, or a job at all. Then she pushed her worries aside under the rising tide of desire.
She stood and pulled him to his feet. As she led him up the stairs, electricity flickered along her nerves like heat lightning.
Clothes dropped behind her. Behind him.
Feeling the stickiness of sweat and blood on her skin, she veered into the bathroom.
He stepped into her marble shower with her. She’d taught him how to bathe her, and he took over the task now, massaging her scalp and neck, shampooing and rinsing her hair.
His oversized hands were surprisingly gentle as he washed her body, kissing every battle mark. He traced over the painful bruises on her face and hip as well as the ones on her arms showing the blows she’d blocked.
The way his face darkened made her heart melt. He’d accepted that she could care for herself—and now she could see his protectiveness as a gift.
When he finished, she took the soap from his hand and did the same for him. His wet hair tangled, brushing against his thickly muscular shoulders.
Her hands moved down. Had she ever met anyone with such a gorgeous back? She traced her fingers across the hills and valleys of each muscle.
She kissed his neck, inhaling the clean scent. Under the light mat of chest hair, his pectoral muscles turned taut under her touch. His nipples were tiny points. When she stroked and counted the ridges on his abdomen, one ridge at a time—eight—she heard his teeth grinding together.
Eventually, she reached his cock and the very neatly trimmed hair around it. Such diligence should be rewarded. “Very nice, Benjamin.” She ran a finger around the base.
He made a pleasingly guttural sound.
And her need soared. “I’ve heard this part of the body must be kept very, very clean. I’ll do my best.” First, she soaped the straining erection, enjoying the slippery silkiness and how it tried to bob within her grip.
His balls, with their slight furriness, felt heavy and potent in her palms. She snorted. Very potent, actually.
“I think I’m clean, Mistress,” he muttered, bracing a hand on the wall.
Her clit was throbbing with its own demands, and her core ached to be filled with him. But more than that, her heart wanted his arms around her, his mouth on hers. She wanted to breathe him in, to burrow against his strength, to hold him and comfort him in return.