Page 69 of Winning Bid

“So, you want a next time?”

“I’m not opposed to it.”

The fire in his eyes sends a shock straight to my girlie bits. “Good.”

I want him. Damn him for pulling that trickery in the closet, but I almost don’t care. I want to jump him. “You know we can’t do that kind of thing again, right?”

“I don’t intend to break into Andre’s closet again if that’s what you’re saying.”

“No. I mean, well, we’re definitely not doing that again, but also, the whole fear of getting caught thing isn’t my kink.”

“No?” he asks with a smirk. “Then what is?”

“You know what I like.” Why am I not comfortable with saying it out loud? I’ve never been shy about what I want in bed, but with Anderson, it’s like the stakes are raised. He’s the man I’m spending the rest of my life with. I should be able to tell him anything, but if I tell him and he thinks I’m gross for it, then where does that leave us?

“Tell me, June. Tell me your filthy private thoughts. I’m all ears.”

I’d been nervous in the closet—butterflies in my stomach, that kind of thing—but this is different. This means more. Still, I try to be brave. I take a deep breath and start, “Well, um, I like it when?—"

Delivery knocks on the door.

“Hold that thought.” He sets my feet aside and gets the delivery, and soon, Chinese food smells waft through the apartment. That smell tears through my fear to call to my stomach. I’m on my feet following him like he’s the pied piper of Hamlin, and I’m helpless to his tune. We eat straight out of the containers. “Hey, if you wanted egg rolls, you could have said so.”

Half an egg roll hanging out of my mouth, I shrug sheepishly and devour the thing. “Next time, you get some of mine.”

He grins at me. “Agreed. So you were telling me something naughty … ”

“I was stalling, actually.”

“Great, then now we’re past the stalling. Go ahead.”

With a smile, I snap, “You pushy asshole.”

“I pushed into your?—"

“Stop right there.” I dust egg roll crumbs from my fingers. “Rule number one—I am not up to discussing things that graphically. We can do them, but talking about them will take me some time. Okay?”

He ponders this for a beat. “Agreed.”

“Two—I will tell you what you want to know, but I must do it at my own pace. Pushing me on it sends me mentally spiraling, and neither of us wants that because I’ll shut down the way I did the night at the diner.”

His face darkens. “Then let's not do that. I will respect that boundary if you don’t want to talk about things. But I need you to know how much it turns me on to talk dirty with you, not just at you. That’s something I need from you, June. It makes me feel closer to you like we can talk about any filthy thing with each other. I want that kind of relationship with my wife.”

“It’s just that … I worry you’ll think I’m messed up or something, and we’re engaged, so if you think I’m disgusting?—"

He drops his food and chucks my chin with a crooked finger to make me look into his eyes. “Nothing you could say would make me think of you that way. You are my soul mate, my confidant, my passion. You are everything to me. Never think you are less than that.”

But I jerk my chin away. “Are you joking right now?”

“Fuck no. Why do you ask?”

“After what you said to me in the parking lot?—"

He blows out a breath and looks away. “I was fucked up, and I fucked up, and I’m sorry for all of that. I wish you hadn’t seen me like that. You should never have to see me at my worst.”

That won’t do. I take his hands in mine, but still, he stares off. “Look at me, Anderson.”

Reluctantly, he does.

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