Page 37 of Snow Bound

“Uh-uh. It was hot.”

“I thought so.” She was drifting, her body going limp as sleep crept in. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

“Hmm?” She forced her eyes open, blinking in bemused confusion for a moment. Then her eyes drifted shut again. “No, that’s okay.”

“You sure? I don’t mind.” And he didn’t. In fact, the prospect of cuddling her while she slept was surprisingly appealing.

She shook her head, sending her hair sliding over his thigh. “You could tuck me in, though.”

Amused, he slid his hands under her to lift. She curled into him, trusting as a child, all her prickly wariness gone. He dragged the covers back, then laid her back down. By the time he tugged the covers up over her shoulders, she was asleep.

He dressed quietly and headed downstairs, leaving her bedroom door open so he could hear if she called out. Henry was where they’d left him, snoring in front of the fire. He crouched to rub the wide head.

“Hey, lazybones.” Henry opened one eye to peer at him blearily. “Is this what you’re going to do for the next two weeks? Nap and eat?”

Henry yawned, stretched, and went back to sleep.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Grant rose to stoke the fire and add a log, then settled on the sofa. He picked up the remote and turned on the television to flick idly through the streaming options until he found a movie that appealed. He turned the volume down low to make sure the sound wouldn’t carry upstairs, then settled in.

He'd seen the movie before, so although he enjoyed it, his mind soon wandered back to the scene he’d just done, and the woman he’d left sleeping.

The sex last night had been great. Fun, exciting, and a hate fuck could feel a lot like a scene if done right. They’d done it right, so he’d wondered how different a formal scene would be.

Not very, it turned out. She’d still fought him—more mentally than physically this time, her need to submit warring with her innate stubbornness and a deep fear of vulnerability. When he’d told her to beg, she’d looked like she’d wanted to spit in his face—and wouldn’t that have been interesting?

He was no stranger to skittish submissives. As a Dom, he’d encountered more than his fair share. Most submissives, especially if they were new, struggled with being vulnerable. For many submissives it was a matter of trust, and once that was established with a play partner, the fear disappeared. But for others, it was more.

The world was a tough, cynical place, and developing a hard shell was a matter of survival. For a submissive to set that shell aside willingly was a gift, one he didn’t take lightly. Some were able to shed it quickly, but some took more work. Anna, he was all but certain, fell solidly into the More Work column.

He leaned back against the arm of the couch, staring at the ceiling while a chase scene ran in near silence on the television. She said she liked to fight, and that was undeniably true, but she’d also been testing him.

It didn’t bother him. In fact, he enjoyed the challenge it presented. Figuring out how to tap into a partner’s needs and desires was part of being a Dom, as was building trust needed for a submissive to fully submit.

Which she hadn’t. Oh, she’d gone through the motions well enough, but she’d been holding back. Which was why he’d exhausted her with the spanking and three orgasms before pushing her.

She’d responded pretty much as he’d expected—with stubborn defiance.

It hadn’t taken much to get her to bend—a woman on the edge of orgasm is an easy mark, and he’d played her body like a virtuoso. Her capitulation had been inevitable, and though she’d grumbled about it—and refused his offer of a cuddle, which he found telling—she hadn’t seemed upset. At least not yet, he mused, and wondered what she’d have to say after she’d had time to process everything. He also wondered what it would take to get her to cave the next time.

If there was a next time. They hadn’t agreed to more than one scene, and he thought there was a better than even chance that she’d be one and done. Yes, she’d had fun, but he’d also made her uncomfortable, and that could mean the end of the sexy naked times.

Which would be a disappointment, a much bigger one than he’d counted on. He liked her—had liked her from the moment they’d met a year and a half ago—and he’d be sorry if she called it quits.

Deciding that was a problem for tomorrow, he turned the volume up a few clicks and tuned back into the movie.

Anna made her way downstairs late the next morning well rested and relaxed. Her muscles were sore, skin tender—certain bits more so than others—so she’d foregone clothes in favor of the luxuriously soft robe she was now very grateful she’d packed. She’d debated letting her hair air dry, but it was too cold to walk around with a wet head. So she’d hit it with the blow drier until her scalp was warm and dry, and wove the damp ends into a braid that hung down her back in a thick, flame colored rope.

She padded into the kitchen, empty but for Henry. She had to smile—he must have just come in from a trek outside. His face was covered with snow, white clinging to his dark muzzle. He gave a soft woof of welcome when he saw her and padded over to say hello.

“Well, hi,” she said, giggling as he pushed his cold nose against her leg through the gap in the robe. She nudged him back and crouched down to stroke his big head as he rubbed it against her chest. “You’re just a big sweetheart, aren’t you?”

“Careful,” Grant warned from the doorway. He leaned on the wall, hands tucked in his pockets. “He’ll let you do that all day.”

“Too bad for him I’m hungry.” With a final pat she nudged Henry aside and pushed to her feet. “I’m going to make an omelet, if you want one.”

“I was up early, so I had something already.”

“Okay.” Keenly aware of his gaze on her—and the fact that she wore nothing under the robe—she turned to the fridge and began to gather ingredients.

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