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“Is Saxon… bossy? You know, in bed?”
Her eyes light with amusement. “He’d say no, that he’s just enthusiastic. Why do you ask? Is Kip bossy?”
“Just a bit.”
“Ooh. Is he all Fifty Shades?”
“I haven’t actually read that.”
“Oh you should. I learned so much.” She laughs. “Does he have a playroom?”
“He has a PlayStation.”
“No, I mean that in the book, Christian has a room that he takes Ana to, where he ties her up and does naughty things to her. Whips and paddles and stuff.”
My eyes nearly pop out. “Oh, jeez, no, nothing like that. Nothing I’ve seen, anyway. God, I’m so naïve.” I think about the love bite he gave me on my neck and try not to blush as I flick through the swatches. I had to wear a shirt with a collar this evening to cover it up. “I don’t know if Kip’s told Saxon, and if he has, if Saxon’s told you, but… um… he’s the first guy I’ve been with.”
“Oh…” Her eyebrows lift. “No, I didn’t know. So that night we met at Red’s Rib Shack…”
“Yeah, it was my first time with a guy that evening. So I don’t have anything to compare him to. I just wondered if all men were… you know… bossy.”
“Well, I only had a few partners before Saxon, so I’m not exactly an expert. I would say that guys have to do most of the movement, right? So it’s instinctive for them to direct the action. After saying that, it wouldn’t surprise me if the fact that the Chevaliers are rich and privileged makes them borderline arrogant and bossy. Money buys obedience. They’re used to getting what they want, and to telling people what to do, and I guess that’s going to stray over into their sex lives. We just get to be the lucky girls who benefit from it.” She smirks.
“Kip said it’s different in the bedroom,” I reply. “That’s it’s a place to explore the differences between us. But I’m beginning to think he’s bossy most of the time, not just in bed.”
I stop talking as there’s a sound from behind us. We freeze, glance at each other, then slowly turn. The guys are both standing in the doorway, watching us, lips curved up with amusement.
“How much of that did you hear?” I ask.
“Enough to make me want to put you over my knee,” Kip says wryly, and Saxon gives a short laugh.
Both Catie and I blush scarlet, and the guys chuckle.
“Come on,” Saxon scolds, holding out a hand. “We’ve made coffee.”
Kip puts his arm around me as we walk back to the living room.
“How long were you standing there?” I whisper, embarrassed to think he heard me talking to Catie about what we’d done.
“A while,” he says.
“Did you hear us talking about you having a playroom?”
His eyebrows rise almost comically. “No. But you’re absolutely going to have to tell me about that.”
There’s no time to say anything because we’re going into the living room. Kip and I sit on the sofa, and Catie curls up in one of the armchairs, while Saxon pulls up a beanbag and sits in front of her, with her feet in his lap. He massages her feet while we talk, and she rests her hand on her bump, her gaze drifting occasionally, so I’m sure she’s thinking about her boys.
I remember what Kip told me about her—that she had a tough upbringing, and she lived on the streets for a while. How strange it must be for her now to be living in such a beautiful house, to be married to such a gorgeous guy, and to be pregnant with his twins.
I’ve never really thought much about marriage and babies. It’s always felt like such a far-off dream, like visiting New York, or meeting the King of England, something I can’t imagine ever doing in real life. Is it possible, though? Not yet, but maybe a few years down the line, when Charlie has come home to work, and I have more free time on my hands? I can’t imagine ever meeting a man who would be interested in dating a girl who has responsibilities like I have. Kip is, but then he’s one in a billion, and I can’t imagine there are many men out there like him.
For a moment, while he and Saxon chat about the upcoming All Blacks game, I let myself fantasize about a possible future where I’m married to Kip, and pregnant with his child. The thought makes the hairs rise all over my body. How amazing would it be to have sex and know you could be making a baby? To have it grow into a person inside me, to give birth and hold a tiny person who was part of me, part of him? To have him put his ring on my finger and promise to love me until death parts us?
Oh jeez, I’ve never even let myself come close to imagining anything like that, and it takes my breath away.
He looks at me then, straight into my eyes, our gazes lock, and I can’t look away.
Oh no. Surely not. I haven’t been that stupid.
