Prince of Secrets
She hadn’t been propositioning him, couldn’t believe he thought she had any energy left for that, but she didn’t say so.
While she was in the shower she tried to go over what had happened, but couldn’t figure out why he’d withdrawn and wondered if he’d even still be there when she came out.
CHAPTER FIVE
HE WAS, THOUGH, and he’d remade the bed with fresh sheets.
“Thank you,” she said, feeling unsure.
“We will be more comfortable sleeping on clean bedding.”
That one small word washed through her like life-giving oxygen. We. He’d said we.
Before she could remark on it, or say anything at all, he started toward the bathroom. “I’ll have my shower now. Get in bed.”
“You said you were only bossy in the bedroom.”
He stopped at the doorway to the bath and looked at her over his shoulder. “We are in the bedroom.”
“Why don’t you just admit you have oldest-child syndrome?”
His expression turned somber, though she didn’t understand why. “Noted.”
She would have teased that wasn’t an admission, but Demyan disappeared into the bathroom.
Chanel didn’t understand what was going on with him, but he wasn’t leaving. She’d take that as a good sign.
Did he regret the implications toward the future he’d made before they had sex? Was he realizing now that he’d gotten his rocks off how ludicrous they’d been?
Maybe he thought she’d try to hold him to his words as if he’d made promises. She wouldn’t.
Perhaps she needed to tell him that.
She crossed the room, but when she tried the door to the bath, it was locked.
She let her hand drop away. Okay, then.
Maybe she just needed to go to bed. Any talking could happen in the morning.
After only a few moments’ deliberation, she opted to wear pajamas to bed. The mint-green jersey knit wasn’t exactly sexy, but it was comfortable.
She was still awake when he joined her some indeterminate time later.
He didn’t pause before pulling her into his arms, though he made a sound of surprise when his hands encountered fabric. “Why are you wearing this?”
Because she’d needed a barrier between them, a level of armor, even if it was just her favorite pair of pj’s. “Why not?” she answered rather than admit that, though.
“Because I prefer naked skin and I think you do, too.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never slept with another person,” she replied a tad acerbically.
“Perhaps it is for the best tonight. You will be too sore tomorrow if we make love again in the night.”
“Oh.” He still wanted her?
That was good, right?
“Do not sound so disappointed. We will make love again. Many times.”
As promises for the future went, that was one she could live with. “I’m glad.”
They were silent for several seconds before she offered, “Thank you for making my first time so special.”
“I lost control.” And there it was.
What was bothering him. She knew it.
“I liked it.”
“I could have hurt you.”
“But you didn’t and I think it would have hurt me if you hadn’t lost yourself just as badly as I did.”
“Yes?” he asked, as if the concept was foreign to him.
“Absolutely.”
“I am very glad to hear it.” He’d turned out the light, but she could still hear the smile in his voice.
“Go to sleep.”
“Your wish is my command.”
She would have said something sarcastic about that blatant fabrication, but her mouth didn’t want to work and she slipped into sleep, comforted by their banter.
* * *
Chanel was astonished by how easily she grew used to sleeping with someone else.
Not to the sex, though. She wasn’t sure she’d ever grow used to the level of pleasure she and Demyan found in one another’s bodies.
He was bossy in bed, just like he’d told her, but it was all targeted toward her enjoyment. Every directive, every withholding of one instant gratification for something more was so that her final satisfaction was so incredibly overwhelming, she lost her mind with it.
But the sleeping together, that was different. That was all-night-long intimacy of another sort.
She, who had never even cuddled a bear in bed, found it difficult to sleep now when Demyan’s arms weren’t wrapped around her, his heartbeat a steady, comforting sound against her ear.
Hence her yawning this morning as she crunched the new data, despite three cups of coffee made in the new Keurig machine Demyan had gotten her.
He liked to buy her things, she’d noticed. Things she would like.
Her entire life, gifts had come with a subtle message to her to become something different. Designer clothes in a style unlike the one she favored, athletic shoes that were supposed to encourage her to take up running when she was perfectly happy with her tae kwon do training. Golfing gear, though she hated the game, a tennis racket despite the fact she’d never played.