Page 14 of His Christmas Wife

Since Abigail was busy with customers, Kaylee looked at a wooden paddle. Then an image of it in Frost’s strong grip teased her, and she immediately moved on to a booth offering beautiful works of handcrafted stained glass.

She was tempted to buy one depicting a woman in rope bondage, but before she could make the decision on whether to splurge on the expensive piece, she caught sight of Frost.

With a bag in hand and his intense gaze locked on her, he strode over to join her.

Unable to help herself, she stared at him—entranced by how delicious he was.

Just like earlier, he was dressed in a white shirt, with slacks he might have been poured into. But now, she knew exactly how broad his shoulders were, what his chiseled abs looked like, and she’d watched his biceps flex as he moved his arms.

“See something you like?” A slow smile flirted with his lips, transforming his features.

He’d caught her staring.

“I…” Where were her words?

“The offerings.” With his finger, he indicated the piece of art she’d been appreciating.

“Oh.” She tried for a light, airy tone. “It’s out of my price range.”

He raised an eyebrow. In skepticism? After all, he knew how much she earned. But still, he had no idea where her money went.

“Shall we?”

Heart once again beating a frantic tattoo, and very much aware of the weight of the present in her grip, she fell in step next to him.

They took a trip through the entire dungeon before wending their way to Kinky Avenue.

Most of the play spaces were occupied, but the far one—a sparse, interrogation-type room—was open.

Pausing, she looked at him.

“It’s your call entirely, Ms. Robbins. I want you to be comfortable.”

Since the space was designed for the maximumdiscomfort, his statement was ludicrous. The area contained two wooden chairs, a desk, an overhead hook, a bright lamp, and a display of wicked-looking spanking implements—none of which she would ever be interested in trying. “It’s intimidating.” As well as overwhelming. Yet it was semiprivate enough that hopefully her friends wouldn’t see her with Frost.

He said nothing, neither encouraging her nor making other suggestions. A moment ago, he’d said it was up to her, and he obviously meant it, which helped her begin to accept him as a Top. “I’m fine with it.”

Once her decision was made, he entered the small space, and she followed, standing to one side while he placed his bag on the desk. The resulting thud seemed to echo off the walls, though that had to be impossible over the thumping percussion of the club’s Christmas music.

They were often in close quarters at work, but there was a professional barrier between them.

Protectively she wrapped her arms around herself as Frost unbuttoned one of his cuffs. He began to roll it back but then stopped and looked at her. “On second thought, I’d prefer you to do this for me.”

Unmoving, she blinked.

“Is that a problem, sub?”

The word rolled off his tongue naturally with a sensual lilt. But it cascaded conflicting emotions through her. At the club, she’d played with plenty of Tops, but none of them had asked her to do anything like this.

Was this different because they had a preexisting relationship? Or was it because he was asking her to do something that seemed so personal?

“Come here, Ms. Robbins.”

She had a safe word, but a traitorous part of her didn’t want to use it.

“We need to be comfortable with each other in order to convince my grandmother we’re in love.”

Love?Where had that ridiculous suggestion come from?

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