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“Oh, for pity’s sake, Anastasia. What do you want to know? What do I have to do?”
She stares at her hands under the surface of the water. “I’m just trying to understand; you’re such an enigma. Unlike anyone I’ve met before. I’m glad you’re telling me what I want to know.”
Abruptly filled with resolve, she moves through the water to sit beside me, leaning against me so my skin sticks to hers.
“Please don’t be angry with me,” she says.
“I am not angry with you, Anastasia. I’m just not used to this kind of talking—this probing. I only have this with Dr. Flynn and with—”
Damn.
“With her? Mrs. Robinson? You talk to her,” she says, her voice breathy and quiet.
“Yes, I do.”
“What about?”
I turn to face her so suddenly that water sloshes out of the bath and onto the floor. “Persistent, aren’t you? Life, the universe—business. Anastasia, Mrs. R and I go way back. We can discuss anything.”
“Me?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“Why do you talk about me?” she asks, and now she sounds sullen.
“I’ve never met anyone like you, Anastasia.”
“What does that mean? Anyone who didn’t just automatically sign your paperwork, no questions asked?”
I shake my head. No. “I need advice.”
“And you take advice from Mrs. Pedo?” she snaps.
“Anastasia—enough,” I almost shout. “Or I’ll put you across my knee. I have no sexual or romantic interest in her whatsoever. She’s a dear, valued friend and a business partner. That’s all. We have a past, a shared history, which was monumentally beneficial for me, though it fucked up her marriage—but that side of our relationship is over.”
She squares her shoulders. “And your parents never found out?”
“No,” I growl. “I’ve told you this.”
She regards me warily, and I think she knows she’s pushed me to my limit.
“Are you done?” I ask.
“For now.”
Thank God for that. She wasn’t lying when she told me there was much she wanted to say. But we’re not talking about what I want to talk about. I need to know where I stand. If our arrangement has a chance.
Seize the day, Grey.
“Right—my turn. You haven’t responded to my e-mail.”
She tucks her hair behind her ear, then shakes her head. “I was going to respond. But now you’re here.”
“You’d rather I wasn’t?” I hold my breath.
“No, I’m pleased,” she says.
“Good. I’m pleased I’m here, too—in spite of your interrogation. So, while it’s acceptable to grill me, you think you can claim some kind of diplomatic immunity just because I’ve flown all this way to see you? I’m not buying it, Miss Steele. I want to know how you feel.”
Her brows knit together. “I told you. I am pleased you’re here. Thank you for coming all this way.” She sounds sincere.
“It’s my pleasure.” I lean down and kiss her, and she opens like a flower, offering and wanting more. I pull back. “No. I think I want some answers first before we do any more.”
She sighs, her wary look returning. “What do you want to know?”
“Well, how you feel about our would-be arrangement, for starters.”
She makes a moue with her mouth, as if her response will be unpalatable.
Oh dear.
“I don’t think I can do it for an extended period of time. A whole weekend being someone I’m not.” She looks down, away from me.
That’s not a “no.” What’s more, I think she’s right.
Grasping her chin, I tilt her head up so I can see her eyes.
“No, I don’t think you could, either.”
“Are you laughing at me?”
“Yes, but in a good way.” I kiss her again. “You’re not a great submissive.”
Her mouth drops open. Is she feigning offense? And then she laughs, a sweet, infectious laugh, and I know she’s not offended.
“Maybe I don’t have a good teacher.”
Good point well made, Miss Steele.
I laugh, too. “Maybe. Perhaps I should be stricter with you.” I search her face. “Was it that bad when I spanked you the first time?”
“No, not really,” she says, her cheeks flushing a little.
“It’s more the idea of it?” I ask, pressing her further.
“I suppose. Feeling pleasure when one isn’t supposed to.”
“I remember feeling the same. Takes a while to get your head around it.”
We are finally having the discussion. “You can always use the safe word, Anastasia. Don’t forget that. And, as long as you follow the rules, which fulfill a deep need in me for control and to keep you safe, then perhaps we can find a way forward.”
“Why do you need to control me?”
“Because it satisfies a need in me that wasn’t met in my formative years.”
“So it’s a form of therapy?”
“I’ve not thought of it like that, but yes, I suppose it is.”
She nods. “But, here’s the thing—one moment you say ‘don’t defy me,’ the next you say you like to be challenged. That’s a very fine line to tread successfully.”
“I can see that. But you seem to be doing fine so far.”
“But at what personal cost? I’m tied up in knots here.”