Normally, she fell asleep after sex. She should be tired considering the last hour, not to mention the caning. But any thoughts about closing her eyes disappeared with the feel of Cole’s arms around her. Especially once his thumb started caressing her arm. Apparently, he wasn’t sleepy, either.
Then his lips brushed the back of her neck and the warmth of his breath sent shivers down her spine.
She held still, not sure enough of her place at the moment to know if he’d welcome her turning around or even pressing herself back against him.
Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.
The fantasy of being in his arms didn’t come close to the real thing. Real Cole was all hard male muscle mixed with a nearly overwhelming intensity, but with an underlying promise of safety and security. Plus there was the way Real Cole would tease, and that little smile of his . . .
She sighed, knowing she was marching down the road to heartbreak.
“Sasha?” Cole asked. “Is something wrong?”
Not caring about the potential heartbreak involved, she dipped her head and kissed his forearm. “Nothing’s wrong, Sir.”
As long as I can stay like this forever.
He shifted slightly and, judging by the size of his erection, he wasn’t sleepy at all. His lips pressed again against the nape of her neck, but this time, he lingered, nibbling slowly along her shoulder blades.
“I want you again,” he said along the top of shoulder. “Are you sore?”
His hand was already sweeping along the side of her body, lightly stroking and arousing the need their earlier joining hadn’t quite extinguished. She moaned low in her throat as his fingertips brushed between her legs and teased.
“Never too sore for you.” She shifted her legs, giving him better access.
He mumbled something she couldn’t make out and she heard a condom packet open. Then he eased himself inside her, pulling her even closer. “I’ll be gentle,” he whispered.
He was true to his word and they moved together slowly. The earlier urgency to have each other was gone, replaced by a need to savor their connection. He set the pace and she felt every subtle move, every slight push, and every sharp intake of his breath as he pleasured her and took his own.
“Take my hands,” he said, and she entwined their fingers.
She wanted to say something, to somehow let him know how incredible he made her feel, and how being with him was like nothing she’d ever experienced. But they were still too new and the words wouldn’t come.
Instead she squeezed his fingers and whispered in her head the thoughts she couldn’t voice.
When I’m with you, I’m healed.
Chapter Eight
He woke with her on his chest, his arms wrapped around her, their legs entwined. It had been inevitable, he knew that now. Looking back, he’d known probably as early as that first meeting in the coffee shop.
She stirred against him and frowned. He bit back his smile. Someone was disoriented this morning.
“No frowns allowed in my bed,” he whispered in her ear. “Gasps of pleasure, screams of ecstasy, and lusty begging only. No frowns.”
Her eyes flew open, and he laughed.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Cole, Sir.” She rolled away from him and covered her face with her hands. “Oh, man.”
“No regrets, either. I mean it, Sasha.” He watched as she peeked from between her fingers. “It was going to happen eventually, and we both knew it. Now drop your hands so I can wish you a proper good morning.”
She moved her hands. “Good morning.”
“There we go. Good morning.” Her movements had caused a lower part of his anatomy to stir, but they needed to talk before he took her again. With a groan, he sat up. “I’ll start breakfast and put clothes in the bathroom for you. Unless you’d like to wear the sheet to the table?”
“No, Sir.”
“Very well, we’ll save that for later.” He left the bed with her protests following him.
When she joined him at the table half an hour later, she looked a bit sheepish. He nodded to a chair and poured her some juice.
“I don’t have any coffee,” he explained.
“That’s okay, you have pancakes.” She didn’t look at him, but reached for the butter and syrup.
He let her prepare her food, but when several minutes passed and she still paid him no mind, he cleared his throat.
“You’re not acting like yourself,” he said. “Is something wrong?”
She put her fork down, took a deep breath, and finally met his eyes. “I don’t know how to act around you. This”—she waved her arm around the tabletop—“is confusing. Do I call you Sir or Cole? I don’t know what to expect or what you expect from me.”
He could have kicked himself. He knew enough about her to know she needed everything defined. In the absence of guidelines she became stressed.
“I’m sorry, Sasha. I should have said something sooner. I’d like for you to call me Cole. And as for any other expectations, we’ll discuss those after we eat.”
As it turned out, she didn’t call him anything for the remainder of breakfast. In fact, she didn’t say a word. He finally ended up eating as quickly as possible and getting up to clean the kitchen. He told her to meet him in the living room in fifteen minutes.
She sat in one of the armchairs waiting for him while he finished tidying everything up. Always before, she’d sit on the couch. He supposed she picked the chair so he wouldn’t sit next to her. He solved that problem by pulling an ottoman over, putting it in front of her, and taking a seat on it. She took an uneasy breath.
He told himself to remain calm. “Before we discuss anything, I need to know what has you troubled this morning.”
“It’s stupid.”
“You haven’t said ten words to me since we woke up. If it’s upsetting you, it’s not stupid.”
She looked at him with weary eyes. “I thought you’d say my training was over.”
“I assure you that is not the case. Like everything else, we’ll discuss it when the time comes.” He tilted his head at her sigh of relief. “All good now?”
She gave him her first genuine smile of the day. “All good.”
“Are you ready to talk about the next phase of your training?”
“Yes,” she said with an excitement she didn’t try to hide.