Mile High (Up in the Air #2)(61)

He stiffened slightly as I spoke, and I was right there with him. My words had been a joke, because of course he wouldn’t propose, but they had made him tense up. That made me tense up.

“How long do I have to wait, then?” he asked, his tone earnest. “Give me a time frame, and I’ll respect it.”

The word ‘forever’ wanted to shoot out of my mouth, but I counted to ten, trying not to panic. “I can’t give you a time frame, James. I can’t even talk about it without having a panic attack. Let’s just enjoy the living together part, ok?”

He nuzzled against my hair, burrowing deep until he’d moved all the way into my neck. He kissed me there. “We’ll talk about it another time. I’ll give you time to grow accustomed to the idea.”

My exhausted body began to drift off, but not before I had the clear thought that he had somehow managed to get me to agree to one huge concession and still insisted on gaining some ground on yet another.

Impossible, dominant man.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

I blinked awake slowly. James was still spooned tightly behind me. And he had apparently been the thing that woke me up, as he murmured softly into my ear. He was saying sweet little things, an apology in his soft tone. “I’m sorry, my love. I’d let you sleep longer, I’d stay like this forever if I could, but I have to go to this thing, and I can’t bring myself to leave you. Please wake up.”

“I’m awake,” I told him in a voice rusty from sleep.

He kissed my hair. “Good.” He sat up, slipping away.

I made a loud sound of protest at his absence.

He laughed, and it was a carefree, happy sound.

I felt my face soften, my whole body softened, and a tender smile took over my face. Hearing such a happy sound come out of James made me happy. How not? I couldn’t imagine being immune to him.

I sat up sluggishly, watching him stride naked to the door of the bedroom. I was naked myself, and couldn’t even bring myself to cover up as I sat up, sitting cross-legged and just watching him move.

He opened the door, bent down and picked up a large covered tray. He shut the door again with his foot, carrying the tray to a large heavy dresser and setting it on top. He took off the lid, picking up two large plates and moving back to the bed. He handed me one, sitting close to me, cross-legged, to dig into his own.

It was a small portion of lightly seasoned salmon with a small cucumber ginger salad on the side. James scarfed it down in a few large bites, and I didn’t take much longer to finish mine.

“This feels decadent, eating in your bed,” I told him between bites.

He took my plate from me, smiling. He fed me the last few bites himself. “Our bed, love. Everything is ours now, remember.”

I gave him an arch look. That was something I didn’t think I’d ever really agree with. What was his was his. I felt no ownership for any of it, and couldn’t imagine a time when I would. But I knew it was pointless to argue with him, and I really wasn’t in the mood to, so I kept my silence.

James discarded our cleaned plates on the tray, covering it and shoving it back out of the room.

He dragged me into the bathroom, and then the shower, speaking more to me with smiles than words. He washed me as he washed himself, as though I was an extension of him. He even shampooed our hair at the same time, lathering my hair and then his. It was a strange thing, having someone tend to me like that, but I knew it was his preference, and I was growing to love it, as I loved everything he did to me.

He even lathered up my underarms and legs, shaving me expertly, bending down under the showers hard spray, without a qualm, to shave my legs. He even had and used the razor I preferred. The man didn’t miss a trick.

It was a quick shower, though it felt luxurious. He toweled us both dry afterwards, touching all of the marks he’d made on my body as he did so. He had insisted on leaving my choker on, even to shower, and he dried it carefully and thoroughly.

His eyes were enigmatic. If I read him right, he both loved and hated the marks he’d made on my body.

The angry little marks both fascinated and worried him. He pulled me to the bed, laying me down to rub nearly every inch of me with a creamy lotion.

“This is not the thing to start if you want us to leave your house tonight,” I told him rather breathlessly.

He smiled wickedly. “This is actually me not starting anything. And it’s our house.”

Impossible man.

He even dressed me, though not in much. He slid me into a tiny black thong, a strapless black bra, and a very short, very sheer black slip. He put on the large diamond hoop earrings that matched my collar.

“Did you see the changes I made to our room since the last time you saw it?” James asked as he pulled the slip over my head. He pulled on a pair of low slung black athletic shorts, his chest bare.

I glanced around. I hadn’t noticed much of anything since I’d come to his house. I had been more than a little distracted, with eyes only for James.

I saw my paintings almost immediately, once I started looking. He had two of my self-portraits beautifully framed and hanging facing his bed. I didn’t know how I hadn’t seen them before then. They were the most conspicuous pictures on his wall, positioned for a clear view from his bed.

“They kept me company when I was missing you. Your larger self portrait is hanging above our fireplace in the main living space downstairs. The others are in the bedrooms of our other properties. And the nude is in our playground.”