Protecting You - Complete

Chapter 18 - Christian

As soon as we reached my bedroom on the third floor, we stepped into the darkened room and I kicked the door shut behind us. Placing Ana back onto her feet, I told her to stay put as I made my way to the attached bathroom and switched on the lights. I knew the light from the bathroom would illuminate the bedroom enough that we could make our way about, yet be dark enough that even with the drapes open we would not be observed from outside. My room faced the water, and thus the marquee housing the gala. While people would be able to discern a lit window on the third level of the house, unless we were standing directly in front of the window with the blind open, no one could see us.

"Excuse me for a moment... I'm just going to freshen up," Anastasia said, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and perhaps lust. Her offer to come upstairs had been straightforward. I'd check before we went any further, but it was pretty clear to me that Ms. Steele wanted me to claim her virginity tonight. Thinking of the books Taylor had bought, and my notes on the subject, I realized like a newbie I'd failed at the first hurdle. I wasn't expecting tonight to be the night, so didn't have any condoms with me. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I texted Taylor. If anyone could help, and discreetly, it was him.

URGENT. In my 3rd floor bedroom. Need condoms ASAP. Leave at door and text when you've dropped them off.

Unused to being embarrassed, this request had even me a little unnerved. Not the sex part—Taylor had seen me naked before, and once even balls deep in a bound and gagged woman when he'd had to enter the playroom on an urgent matter. No. It was the fact he would appreciate the condoms were for me to use with Ana. I didn't give a fuck what he thought about me—I just didn't want him to think about me using them with her.

Before I had a chance to over-analyze, Anastasia emerged from my bathroom. Still dressed in the gown she'd worn to the gala, she'd removed her minimal makeup, the two-million-dollar earrings, and let her hair down. Most women looked lesser when stripped of their makeup, yet my Anastasia looked more beautiful.

"How about some music?" I suggested, walking over to my music center. Top-quality, back in the day, now it was a dated remnant from my angst-filled teenage years. I'd enjoyed music for as long as I could remember, so I had a sizeable collection. Thumbing through the various CDs, I finally found what I was looking for; a Boyz II Men album. Elliot had given it to me the year he left for college, swearing it was just the thing to put a woman in the mood to 'do the deed.' That some thirteen years on I was taking his advice—here in my childhood bedroom—was kind of pathetic. But El had years of practice with that sort of thing, and I would accept all the help I could get.

Discarding my tux jacket on the back of my study chair, I loosened my bowtie and held my hand out, smiling when Anastasia put her hand in mine. I pulled her close. Unlike downstairs, where we'd actually danced, this time we just swayed on the spot—Anastasia's arms looped around my neck, my hands on her hips. At first, I was kissing her neck, but after a while she rested her head on my chest, eyes closed, fingers playing with the hair at the back of my neck.

I'd never gone to prom. Elena would never have allowed it. Besides which, back then, holding a woman close like this would have been an impossibility. Closing my eyes, I basked in the moment. It was hard to put into words, but in one night it seemed like I was catching up on years' worth of missed experiences. And every precious one was because of the beautiful woman in my arms. Loving Anastasia made all this possible.

Love.

Shit.

I was falling in love. The bitch had told me that was something for others, not for me. She'd said love was for fools, yet I'd always known she was lying. I'd just assumed love was not for me because I was too broken and flawed to be loved in a romantic sense. Yet Ana's arms around my neck, her beautiful face separated from my chest only by a layer of cotton suggested otherwise. She might not be in love with me yet—however, I was certain it was a possibility. A possibility I wanted to explore.