Page 72 of Snow Bound

“Not interested, my humiliation will be minimized, and at least I’ll have the memory of two more kinky days to comfort me while I’m eating ice cream and crying in your bathtub.”

“As good a plan as any,” Lola decided. “Let me know if I need to stock up on Häagen-Dazs.”

“I will. Thanks, Lo. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

The call disconnected, and Anna followed Henry to the back door. She stomped the snow from her boots as best she could, then opened the door. Henry streaked inside to check his food dish. Finding it empty, he trotted out of the kitchen.

Anna moved more slowly, pulling off her outer gear and stowing it in the mudroom, then moving into the kitchen before stripping out of the jeans and sweater she’d donned for the trip outside. She technically could’ve gone upstairs to take them off—Grant had made that clear—but she was still a little cautious after the apron incident. Shivering a little, she carried her clothes into the living room.

Henry was sprawled in front of a fire that had burned down to embers, so she added more wood and gave it a few pokes. When it was blazing nicely, she headed upstairs to put the jeans and sweater along with the rest of her clothes in her suitcase.

She’d done all her laundry that morning—there wasn’t much—and packing had been a simple matter of transferring her clothes from the dresser to her suitcase. Her toiletries would have to wait until Sunday morning, but she’d wanted the rest of it done so she wouldn’t have to worry about it.

She had enough to worry about.

“Packing already?” Grant asked from the doorway.

“I wanted it out of the way.” She dragged the suitcase off the bed, wheeling it into the closet where she wouldn’t have to look at it. “It’s not like I need my clothes.”

“Good point.”

She shut the closet door on her suitcase—out of sight, out of mind, please God—and turned to smile at him. “Hi. Whatcha got there?”

He laid the garment bag over the foot of the bed. “Something I had delivered.”

Eager for a distraction, she eyed the bag. “For me?”

“If you’re up for something a little extra.”

She looked up. “What kind of extra?”

“You’ll see.”

“I don’t even get a hint?” she asked, adding big eyes to a pout.

“You’re getting good at that, but no. I need to know how you feel. Are you sore at all? Any raw or bruised spots I need to be aware of?”

“I don’t think so. We haven’t played too hard for the last couple of days. I don’t think I even have any rope burn left.”

He nodded. “What about mentally?”

“I’m good,” she said and told herself it wasn’t enough of a lie to count.

“Okay. I’m not going to tell you anything except to say that it’s edgier than the play we’ve done so far. But you have it marked on your list as a yes, and I’m going to keep it straightforward.”

Her nerves were tangling with excitement now, the flush of it heating her skin. “Okay.”

“I am, however, going to push you. We’ve talked about having someone watch us play, to add to the sense of embarrassment you enjoy.”

Oh, boy. “Seriously?”

He smiled. “Nobody will actually be here with us, but they will be able to see you.”

“Who?”

“Someone I trust,” was all he said. “Are you okay with that?”

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