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Her brow furrowed, and she glanced around at the studio. “But you don’t even know anything about me.”
I captured her chin between my fingers, hungry to watch every nuance of her expressions. “You told me that you’re a dancer. I contacted your sister and asked her to send over your things.”
Her eyes sparkled, and she blinked quickly. I didn’t want her to shove the emotion away, but I didn’t press her to fully release the depth of her gratitude. If she didn’t want to cry, I wouldn’t force her.
“You talked to Giana?” She spoke as though she could hardly believe what I was saying.
How little did she think of me that she was so baffled by my actions?
I didn’t like that thought, so I petted her hair and savored the way she leaned into my tender touch.
“Yes,” I confirmed. “She packed up your gear for you. It arrived this morning.”
I turned her and directed her attention to the chair in the corner, where I’d laid out her dance outfit and pointe shoes.
I leaned down from behind her and kissed her cheek. “I want you to dance for me,” I murmured.
That chair was for me. I intended to spend many hours in here watching my beautiful wife perform solely for my pleasure.
I applied pressure at the small of her back, urging her toward the waiting clothes and shoes. “Go on. Get changed.”
She peered at me over her shoulder. “Now?”
“Yes, now.” I allowed my tone to drop to something sterner, pushing her just a little.
She was malleable after being blindfolded and pleasantly caught off guard by her surprise, so she didn’t argue with me. Satisfaction flooded my chest as I watched her practically float across the room to retrieve her outfit.
She hugged the pointe shoes to her chest and closed her eyes briefly, as though savoring the feel of them in her hands.
Then she looked back at me. “There’s nowhere to get changed.”
I gestured at the mirrors. “You’ll change right here. For me.”
I prowled toward her, and she shifted on her feet. But she didn’t shrink away. I allowed my hand to brush hers as I passed her and settled down on my chair. I leaned back into the plush leather and waved her on, silently commanding her to obey.
She bit her lip, and her cheeks flushed, but she reached for the button at the top of her modest, pale pink blouse. Her fingers trembled slightly as she undid it, then reached for the next.
“Slowly,” I ordered, a bite to the command.
Her eyes snapped to mine, wide with surprise at my harsher shift in demeanor. I nodded at her, encouraging her to continue in the way I’d instructed.
Her lashes lowered, shy as she complied with shaking hands. I allowed her to avert her gaze from mine until she was stripped down to her underwear, and she reached for her white tights.
“Look at me. Watch me while you put them on.”
She swallowed, but her hazel eyes remained locked on mine as she eased the tights over her long, slender legs. As she slowly complied, my cock stiffened. I kept my hands on the arms of the chair, denying myself. I was in control here; I had an iron grip on my own body as well as on her will.
When she was finished, her limbs were practically liquid as she flowed into her next movement. She stepped into her leotardand pulled the straps over her shoulders, then stood as though a string tugged at the top of her head, lifting her entire frame in an elegant pose.
I picked up the remote from the small table beside my chair and pressed the play button. Music swelled throughout the studio, the first lilting notes of her favorite number from Tchaikovsky’sThe Sleeping Beautysurrounding us.
Her features softened. “How did you know?”
“Giana told me it’s your favorite.”
“I…” She blinked rapidly. “Thank you, Luca.”
My gut tightened when she said my name with reverence, lust punching through me.
