Chapter 77 (1/2)

For a moment she seems distracted, then she tilts her head to one side and smiles. “If you imagine for one minute that I think you ceded control to me, well, you haven’t taken into account my GPA. But thank you for the illusion.”

“Miss Steele, you are not just a pretty face. You’ve had six orgasms so far and all of them belong to me.” Why does that mere fact make me glad?

Her eyes stray to the ceiling, and a fleeting guilty expression crosses her face.

What’s this? “Do you have something to tell me?” I ask.

She hesitates. “I had a dream this morning.”

“Oh?”

“I came in my sleep.” She flings her arm over her face, hiding from me, embarrassed. I’m stunned by her confession but aroused and delighted, too.

Sensual creature.

She peeks over her arm. Does she expect me to be angry?

“In your sleep?” I clarify.

“Woke me up,” she whispers.

“I’m sure it did.” I’m fascinated. “What were you dreaming about?”

“You,” she says in a small voice.

Me!

“What was I doing?”

She hides beneath her arm again.

“Anastasia, what was I doing? I won’t ask you again.” Why is she so embarrassed? Her dreaming about me is…endearing.

“You had a riding crop,” she mumbles. I move her arm so I can see her face.

“Really?”

“Yes.” Her face is bright red. The research must be affecting her, in a good way. I smile down at her.

“There’s hope for you yet. I have several riding crops.”

“Brown plaited leather?” Her voice is tinged with quiet optimism.

I laugh. “No, but I’m sure I could get one.”

I give her a swift kiss and stand to dress. Ana does the same, pulling on sweatpants and a camisole. Collecting the condom off the floor, I knot it quickly. Now that she’s agreed to be mine, she needs contraception. Fully dressed, she sits cross-legged on the bed watching me as I grab my pants. “When is your period due?” I ask. “I hate wearing these things.” I hold up the knotted condom and pull on my jeans.

She’s taken aback.

“Well?” I prod.

“Next week,” she answers, her cheeks pink.

“You need to sort out some contraception.”

I sit on the bed to slip on my socks and shoes. She says nothing.

“Do you have a doctor?” I ask. She shakes her head. “I can have mine come and see you at your apartment—Sunday morning, before you come and see me. Or he can see you at my place. Which would you prefer?”

I’m sure Dr. Baxter will make a house call for me, although I haven’t seen him for a while.

“Your place,” she says.

“Okay. I’ll let you know the time.”

“Are you leaving?”