Page 44 of Going Deep
“Oh.” She blinked, then stepped back. “Sure. Come on in.”
He stepped past her, his arm brushing against her breasts. He didn’t seem to hear her sharp inhale. “Thank you.”
She closed the door behind her and tried to get a handle on her rioting hormones. Maybe she’d had too much to drink after all, because she felt a little dizzy. “Would you like something to drink? I don’t have any coffee, but I can do tea. Or I have some pop.”
He turned to watch her walk into the kitchen. “No, thanks. I wanted to talk to you about this weekend.”
Make that a lot dizzy. “Okay.”
“I have to fly to New York in the morning to handle some business, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back. So I won’t be at Odyssey this weekend.”
“Oh.” The sense of disappointment was almost crushing. “I hope everything’s okay.”
“Everything’s fine,” he assured her. “Except for having to cancel our date.”
“It’s all right,” she said, forcing a smile. “Life happens.”
“Life does,” he agreed. “And since it has, and we won’t get to do the scene I had planned at the club tomorrow, we can do it now.”
“Sure, that’s—” She blinked. “What did you say?”
He stepped toward her, his eyes on her face. “I said, I want to play. Do you want to play, Ginger?”
Um. Duh. She swallowed, unable to tear her gaze away from his face as her heart began to pound. “Yes.”
One dark eyebrow arched. “Yes, what?”
She got that sinking feeling in her belly, the one that made her feel as though the world were falling away and he was the only thing that was strong and real and solid. “Yes, Sir.”
He smiled, brilliantly. “Good girl. Use the bathroom if you need to, then go into the bedroom and strip.”
“Yes, Sir.”
She did as she was told with a speed that would’ve been embarrassing if she’d stopped to think about it, then stood by the bed and shivered. He hadn’t told her what to do after getting naked. Hadn’t told her to kneel, or sit, or simply stand and wait. She struggled for a moment, trying to think what he’d want her to do, and her anxiety began to build. She took a deep breath, then another, calming herself, and reminded herself that if he wanted her in a specific position, he would have told her. She didn’t have to guess, didn’t have to try to anticipate. She couldn’t do it wrong, because he wouldn’t let her.
Relieved, she crawled into the center of the bed and sat cross-legged facing the door. Hands resting gently on her knees, she closed her eyes and focused on breathing.
When she heard him walk into the room, she opened them again.
His gaze was narrowed, a frown on his face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
His frown deepened as he stepped up to the bed, feet planted apart, arms folded over his chest. “Don’t lie to me, Ginger.”
“I’m not.” She sighed when he didn’t move. “Really, I’m not. I started to freak out, so I was doing a breathing exercise. It helps.”
“What were you freaking out about?”
“You didn’t tell me where or how to sit.”
His face didn’t change. “Go on.”
Her cheeks warmed, but she forged on. “I was trying to guess what you’d want me to do, then I realized you’d tell me. So.” She shrugged. “I decided not to worry about it.”
His eyes lit with approval. “Well, that was well done.”
The approval in his voice settled over her like a warm hug, and she beamed.
