Page 53 of Whispered Desire

Allie snuggles into my side without another word. City lights flash across her sober features as we journey from Paris La Défense to the 8th arrondissement, both of us contemplating the evening in silence.

Something else is bothering her.

Something she's keeping from me.

And there's no room in our relationship for secrets.

Once we reach our bedroom at the hotel, Allie kicks off her heels and grabs an oversized tee before heading to the bathroom for privacy.

My phone buzzes with a text from Dmitri apprising me of ongoing conversations at the party, but that can wait. There are more important details to discoverherein this room.

From my woman.

I toss the device aside, and it skips across the bedspread as the bathroom door swings wide to reveal Allie makeup free in a plain sleep shirt. I'm guessing she removed her contacts, too, since she's got this adorable squint going on. The only adornment left from tonight’s festivities is the necklace I gave her mere hours ago after a day of shopping.

“Are you sure you’re feeling better?” I ask, needing to reassure myself that she’s well enough to consent to this next part.

“Yeah, between the pill and you, it’s like it never happened. Thank god.” She hangs the silky gown she was wearing in the closet and smooths a hand down the shimmering fabric.

I shrug off my jacket and undo the first few buttons of my shirt before sitting on the edge of the bed. Resting my forearms on my knees, I allow myself to dive into a different headspace. One prepared to properly care for my woman’s needs—even the unconscious ones she’s only vaguely aware of.

“Good,” I murmur, low and possessive. “Crawl for me.”

“What?” Allie jolts in surprise. Her blue eyes flash with interest before questions cloud her instinctive response. “Why?”

“Because I asked you to, and you love obeying me. Like a good girl should.”

She doesn't argue with my assessment, instead, her knees bend slowly until she's kneeling on the carpet and her fingertips flex against the thick fabric, a shuddering sigh filling the air.

A man less attuned to Allie's every breath might have missed the soft relief of her exhale.

But not me.

Some men might punish her for voicing a question. See it as a brat's way of asserting control. But I know my little Angel.

She needs solid boundaries. Concrete points to understand the mysteries of the world around her. That’s why she stayed stuck in terrible situations for so long. She knew what to expect from them.

In a way, they were safe.

The brain is a complex organ with a vast number of pathways, and Allie's unique mind requires the reassurance I can give. Once she has it, she submits beautifully. Willingly.

My sweet, innocent girl.

I'll never take her trust for granted.

When Allie is close enough, I insert a finger through the dangling heart hidden between her breasts. The gifted necklace is made of delicate gold chain links with two heart outlines at the ends. Worn normally, the hearts loop together, allowing one to drop lower into a woman’s cleavage.

But the best part is when they come into play, like now, as I gently pull on one heart, forcing its twin to slide higher on the chain until the necklace becomes a choker around Allie’s neck.

Tugging her closer, I pat the inside of my thigh in encouragement, and she complies by lowering her cheek to the hard muscle.

“I didn’t say anything earlier, but you were worried about something before the overwhelm of the party. What’s bothering you,ma cherie? Tell me what it is, so I can fix it.”

She’s been reserved all evening. At the party, I chalked it up to being surrounded by strangers, but even on the flight yesterday, Allie was huddled within herself. Refusing to rest.

Her lashes flutter closed as she licks her lips. “You already know my feelings about tomorrow. This isn’t about that,” she begins. Then stops. Her nose scrunches like she's fighting an internal war. “If I start taking care of myself again, does that mean you'll stop? Like if I miraculously get one hundred percent healthy?” The soft question sends a crack through my stone cold heart.

“No, sweetheart. That’s what we're working towards. To you feeling healthy enough emotionally and mentally to handle independent tasks while understanding that your care doesn't rely entirely on you. Iwantyou at one hundred percent because you're a damn force to be reckoned with,” I remind her. “I'm here, and I will ensure you're taken care of even when you can't. You’ve proven for a long time how capable you are. Our relationship isn’t meant to discredit that. I'm not caring for you because you're too weak to do it yourself. I’m doing it because I want to. Plain and simple. Because Ineedto.”

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