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“Wolf,” he corrected.
Cela eyed him, as if still trying to figure out if he was truly mad or screwing with her. “Where are we going?”
He didn’t answer as he guided her out of the party room and toward the bank of elevators. As if they’d been waiting for Foster and Cela’s arrival, the gold gleaming doors spread wide. Foster dragged her inside.
As soon as the doors slid shut, he crowded her against the wall, banding an arm around her waist. She let out a little squeak of surprise, and he pressed his forehead to hers, holding her eye contact. “Last time we were in this elevator, I was so desperate for you, I went against my better judgment. I could tell you were holding something back, and I took you to that room anyway.”
“Regret it?”
He lifted his head and smiled down at her. “It was the best fuckup I’ve ever made.”
She stared up at him with those big, brown eyes, her lips curving.
He cupped the back of her neck. “And all this time I’ve made you conform to me. What I want, what I thought I needed, what I prefer. I insisted you fit into this one box of ideal I’d made up.”
“Foster.”
“And I know we haven’t talked about it since everything
happened, and I know you’ve got a lot on your plate back home. But I’m telling you right now. I will do whatever it fucking takes, Cela. Vanilla. Kinky. Neapolitan. Staying here or moving south. I don’t care anymore. All I want is you. And whatever way I get to have that, I’m willing to do.”
Her fingers curled around the lapels of his suit jacket, and her eyes went shiny.
“Just tell me what you want, and I will make it happen.”
The elevator doors dinged, opening to the top floor again. But unlike all those months ago, there was no doubt behind her smile, no fear. She pushed up on her toes and kissed him softly. When she pulled away, what he saw there nearly brought him to his knees.
“I want you to take care of me,” she said, her gaze steady on his and her hand pressed over his pounding heart. “As long as I get to take care of you back. Sir.”
Joy streamed through every cell in his body, lighting him from the inside out. Foster lifted her off her feet and carried her toward the hotel room. Last time they were here, she’d given him her virginity.
Tonight, he’d give her his heart.
EPILOGUE
CHRISTMAS EVE
The riding crop hit Cela’s sweat-glazed skin with a satisfying thwack, a nice hard hit at the end of a quick round of lighter blows. Cela’s head tipped back on a moan, the chains holding her arms above her clinking. Beautiful. Foster lowered the crop to his side and stepped back, relishing the sight of that thick dark hair sliding back over her shoulders and dancing along the marks he’d made, his marks.
His angel was flying high. He could see it in the sway of her body, the slack in her muscles. Desire burned hot in his veins, urging him to take her, but he channeled his patience. He wanted to savor her, especially considering the risky Christmas gift he had planned. If tonight didn’t go the way he hoped, he may not have this privilege again—a thought he couldn’t even bear to let fully form in his head right now.
The glow of the fireplace flickered in front of her, sending shafts of orange light dancing along the walls, changing a room that had once held so much coldness for him to one full of warmth and beauty . . . love. He ran his palm along Cela’s back in a gentle caress, feeling the heat of her skin, the raised welts. She shivered beneath his hand and leaned into his touch. Everything in her reactions said she wanted more, but he knew that was her endorphins and need for release talking, her descent into subspace complete. He’d already worked her over for longer than usual, and he could sense she was close to begging.
But he hadn’t been able to resist pushing her. She didn’t know it, but tonight was a cleansing of sorts for him. He’d driven the long way to get here with Cela in a blindfold. She was under the impression he’d taken her to one of the cabins at The Ranch, but they were somewhere decidedly closer to home.
Foster set the crop down on a side table and wrapped an arm around Cela’s waist before hitting a button on a remote he’d secured to his belt. The chains attached to the ceiling lowered with a soft grind. He smiled, enjoying the addition to the newly remodeled house. Where his mother’s precious antique chandelier had once been, he now had recessed lighting and a hidden compartment for restraints. Cela sagged into his hold, and he laid a brush of a kiss along her shoulder. “Still with me, angel?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, her breath choppy behind the words. “I’m just so . . . I need . . .”
“Shh, I know, baby,” he soothed as he helped ease her arms down to her sides and unlocked the leather cuffs. “I need you, too. So much.”
When he stepped in front of her, she raised her face to him, and he could imagine those soulful eyes behind the blindfold, the trusting, full-surrender way she looked at him in these moments. He cradled her face, his heart squeezing in his chest at the sight of her. He already loved her too much—the power of it almost painful.
He laid a kiss on her mouth, her lips parting and taking him in as if she were parched and he would provide the water. She tasted of cinnamon and nutmeg, like the cookies she’d baked this afternoon, mixed in with the earthy flavor of raw need. He tucked his hand behind her, supporting her head, and then let his other hand drift downward over her bare belly and to the smooth skin beneath. He deepened the kiss as he found her wet heat.
She sighed into the kiss as he slipped two fingers inside her, stroking her with enough pressure to make her shudder but not enough to send her over. Her body clenched around his fingers, a hot, slick fist that made his cock throb against his zipper. A groan of pleasure escaped him. “You’re so ready for me, angel. I love how wet and desperate you get when I’m rough with you. I can’t imagine anything sexier.”
“It’s all your fault,” she said, smiling as she pressed her forehead against his. “I used to be such a good girl.”
