I glance around it, plotting an escape route, no - there's still only the door or window.
My room is functional but cozy - sparse white wicker furniture and a white iron double bed with a patchwork quilt, made by my mother when she was in her folksy American quilting phase. It's all pale blue and cream.
"It's very serene and peaceful in here," he murmurs. Not at the moment... not with you here. Finally, my medulla oblongata recalls its purpose, I breathe.
"How... ?"
He smiles at me.
"I'm still at the Heathman."
I know that.
"Would you like a drink?" Politeness wins out over everything else I'd like to say.
"No, thank you, Anastasia." He smiles a dazzling, crooked smile, his head cocked slightly to one side.
Well, I might need one.
"So, it was nice knowing me?"
Holy cow, is he offended I stare down at my fingers. How am I going to dig myself out of thisIf I tell him it was a joke, I don't think he'll be impressed.
"I thought you'd reply by email." My voice is small, pathetic.
"Are you biting your lower lip deliberately?" he asks darkly.
I blink up at him, gasping, freeing my lip.
"I wasn't aware I was biting my lip," I murmur softly.
My heart is pounding. I can feel that pull, that delicious electricity between us charging, filling the space between us with static. He's sitting so close to me, his eyes dark smoky gray, his elbows resting on his knees, his legs apart. Leaning forward, he slowly undoes one of my pigtails, his fingers freeing my hair. My breathing is shallow, and I cannot move. I watch hypnotized as his hand moves to my second pigtail, and pulling the hair tie, he loosens the braid with his long, skilled fingers.
"So you decided on some exercise," he breathes, his voice soft and melodious. His fingers gently tuck my hair behind my ear. "Why, Anastasia?" His fingers circle my ear, and very softly, he tugs my earlobe, rhythmically. It's so sexual.
"I needed time to think," I whisper. I'm all rabbit/headlights, moth/flame, bird/snake...
and he knows exactly what he's doing to me.
"Think about what, Anastasia?"
"You."
"And you decided that it was nice knowing meDo you mean knowing me in the biblical sense?"
Oh shit. I flush.
"I didn't think you were familiar with the Bible."
"I went to Sunday School, Anastasia. It taught me a great deal."
"I don't remember reading about nipple clamps in the Bible. Perhaps you were taught from a modern translation."
His lips arch with a trace of a smile, and my eyes are drawn to his beautiful sculptured mouth.
"Well, I thought I should come and remind you how nice it was knowing me."
Holy crap. I stare at him open mouthed, and his fingers move from my ear to my chin.
"What do you say to that, Miss Steele?"
His gray eyes blaze at me, his challenge intrinsic in his stare. His lips are parted - he's waiting, coiled to strike. Desire - acute, liquid and smoldering, combusts deep in my belly.
I take pre-emptive action and launch myself at him. Somehow he moves, I have no idea how, and in the blink of an eye I'm on the bed pinned beneath him, my arms stretched out and held above my head, his free hand clutching my face, and his mouth finds mine.
His tongue is in my mouth, claiming and possessing me, and I revel in the force he uses. I feel him against the length of my body. He wants me, and this does strange, delicious things to my insides. Not Kate in her little bikinis, not one of the fifteen, not evil Mrs. Robinson. Me. This beautiful man wants me. My inner goddess glows so bright she could light up Portland. He stops kissing me, and opening my eyes, I find him gazing down at me.
"Trust me?" he breathes.
I nod, wide-eyed, my heart bouncing off my ribs, my blood thundering around my body.He reaches down, and from his pants pocket, he takes out his silver grey silk tie... that silver grey woven tie that leaves small impressions of its weave on my skin. He moves so quickly, sitting astride me as he fastens my wrists together, but this time, he ties the other end of the tie to one of the spokes of my white iron headboard. He pulls at my binding checking it's secure. I'm not going anywhere. I'm tied, literally, to my bed, and I'm so aroused.
He slides off me and stands beside the bed, staring down at me, his eyes dark with