Page 71 of Keeping The Virgin

I wait, because there’s one little part of me that fears he’ll go back to being the Cage I knew in New York—the guy who would fuck me, clean up, turn his back on me, then leave.

Slowly, I roll over, knowing in my heart that it will be different this time as I look at him. When I see that he’s watching me with such emotion in his eyes that it suffuses me with sublime warmth, I smile, my chest tight.

He uses his fingers to stroke the hair back from my face, deep adoration still in his gaze, and I sigh.

“And that,” he says, “was only the beginning, my love.”

He glances at something behind me, and I lazily turn to look over my shoulder. What I find on the table by the bed arouses me. It makes me laugh with nervous ecstasy.

Because spread out on that table are all kinds of toys—delicate whips, satin blindfolds, silken bindings, and other things I can’t even guess at.

Anticipation thunders through me as I turn back to Cage.

“You got a gift when I showed up at your door in Miami,” I say. “Now are you giving me gifts of my own?”

“If you want them.”

I give him a confident, turned-on smile.

“Fuck yes,” I say, giddy that the night has only just begun.

And so has the rest of our lives together.

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