Christian stands in a steel-barred cage. Wearing his soft, ripped jeans, his chest and feet
are mouthwateringly naked, and he’s staring at me. His private-joke smile etched on his
beautiful face and his eyes a molten gray. In his hands he holds a bowl of strawberries.
He ambles with athletic grace to the front of the cage, gazing intently at me. Holding up a
plump ripe strawberry, he extends his hand through the bars.
“Eat,” he says, his tongue caressing the front of his palate as he enunciates the ‘t’.
I try and move toward him, but I’m tethered, held back by some unseen force around
my wrist, holding me. Let me go.
“Come, eat,” he says, smiling his delicious crooked smile.
I pull and pull… let me go! I want to scream and shout, but no sound emerges. I am
mute. He stretches a little further, and the strawberry is at my lips.
“Eat, Anastasia.” His mouth forms my name, lingering sensually on each syllable.
I open my mouth and bite, the cage disappears, and my hands are free. I reach up to
touch him, graze my fingers through his chest hair.
“Anastasia.”
No. I moan.
“Come on, baby.”
No. I want to touch you.
“Wake up.”No. Please. My eyes flicker unwillingly open for a split second. I’m in bed and someone is nuzzling my ear.
“Wake up, baby,” he whispers, and the effect of his sweet voice spreads like warm
melted caramel through my veins. concerting and tantalizing in my head.
“Oh… no,” I groan. I want back at his chest, back to my dream. Why is he waking me?
It’s the middle of the night, or so it feels. Holy shit. Does he want sex – now?
“Time to get up, baby. I’m going to switch on the sidelight.” His voice is quiet.
“No,” I groan.
“I want to chase the dawn with you,” he says, kissing my face, my eyelids, the tip of
my nose, my mouth, and I open my eyes. The sidelight is on. “Good morning, beautiful,”
he murmurs.
I groan, and he smiles.
“You are not a morning person,” he murmurs.
Through the haze of light, I squint and see Christian leaning over me, smiling. Amused.
Amused at me. Dressed! In black.
“I thought you wanted sex,” I grumble.
“Anastasia, I always want sex with you. It’s heartwarming to know that you feel the
same,” he says dryly.
I gaze at him as my eyes adjust to the light, but he still looks amused… thank heavens.
“Of course I do, just not when it’s so late.”
“It’s not late, it’s early. Come on – up you go. We’re going out. I’ll take a rain check
on the sex.”
“I was having such a nice dream,” I whine.
“Dream about what?” he asks patiently.
