smile. “Thank you.” I was surprised by the warmth, the kindness in his smile. How did he forget that he’d had me over his knee, smacking my butt just last night? How could he sit across from me, ordering a bottle of sparkling water like everything was normal? Didn’t he see how different things were now? I didn’t know if we would ever be “normal” again.
“I mean it. I love you.” He leaned across the table and stared at me meaningfully. I wanted to give in and gaze adoringly back at him, but I just couldn’t.
“Do you?”
Now it was his turn to look surprised. “Excuse me?”
“ Do you?” I insisted. “Do you love me?”
“Of course, Alicia. How could you even ask me that?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged, taking a sip of water. “Maybe because you had me bare-assed over your lap last night right before you spanked me!” I flushed, mortified, when I heard our waiter clear his throat. Damn it, how long had he been standing there, listening?
“Are you two ready to order?”
“We’ll need a few more minutes,” Oliver said without taking his eyes off of me.
I smacked my menu down on the table. “But I knew what I wanted!”
“Alicia, you throw that menu down again, or anything for that matter, and instead of Italian I will take you home and we can have a repeat performance of last night.”
My eyes widened. Geez, he sounded so serious. What was going on with him? When had he become so sure of himself, so certain that I would obey him? Why did I find it so damn sexy? The way his eyes pinned me down right now had my pulse beating so hard I thought it might break the skin.
And the real question was, if I found it so sexy, why was I acting like such a bitch? Why couldn’t I just admit that I liked it when he was in charge? I liked it all; I liked the way it transformed him, I liked how it made me feel safe. I wasn’t sure why it did, but it did. Hearing that authority in his voice soothed me as much as it aroused me. So why couldn’t I tell him? Why couldn’t I, at the very least, admit it to myself and behave?
But no, something inside of me, some frightened, unsure part of me kept thinking that if I gave in, if I let him think it was OK to boss me around that he would go from being my loving husband to a dictator. It was almost comical; I’d been so afraid of telling him I liked sexy spankings, and when I’d finally come clean I’d ended up with so much more than I bargained for.
“Alicia? Did you hear me?” His voice held a warning, and I snapped out of my jumbled thoughts.
“Yes, I heard you,” I replied softly. At his arched eyebrow, I felt a giggle escape me, even though I didn’t find it funny. “Yes, sir ,” I corrected.
With a snap of his fingers, Oliver summoned our waiter, who was standing at a discreet yard away. He surprised me by ordering for us both—lasagna for him, and shrimp Alfredo for me. Before it could even occur to me to mind, he turned those warm chocolate eyes of his on me. “Is that OK?”
Mutely, I nodded, handing my menu over to the waiter. To my surprise, when I thought about it I found that it was. I’d never understood why women fought for the right to open their own door or pull their own chair out. I’d always found those things romantic and chivalrous, and I thought him ordering for me was sweet, though surprising since he’d never done it before.
But I didn’t say any of those things. What I said was, “You didn’t get the veal parmesan.”
“I like yours better. ”
He was being quite the charmer today, wasn’t he? Happiness bubbled inside me at the compliment.
“Besides…I have to admit it’s exciting, trying new things.”
I reached across the table for his hand. I heard what he was saying, loud and clear. “I find it scary sometimes,” I admitted.
“Don’t be scared, your shrimp will be cooked and covered in Alfredo. They can’t bite.”
I stared at him, agape, before throwing my head back and laughing. It
“I mean it. I love you.” He leaned across the table and stared at me meaningfully. I wanted to give in and gaze adoringly back at him, but I just couldn’t.
“Do you?”
Now it was his turn to look surprised. “Excuse me?”
“ Do you?” I insisted. “Do you love me?”
“Of course, Alicia. How could you even ask me that?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged, taking a sip of water. “Maybe because you had me bare-assed over your lap last night right before you spanked me!” I flushed, mortified, when I heard our waiter clear his throat. Damn it, how long had he been standing there, listening?
“Are you two ready to order?”
“We’ll need a few more minutes,” Oliver said without taking his eyes off of me.
I smacked my menu down on the table. “But I knew what I wanted!”
“Alicia, you throw that menu down again, or anything for that matter, and instead of Italian I will take you home and we can have a repeat performance of last night.”
My eyes widened. Geez, he sounded so serious. What was going on with him? When had he become so sure of himself, so certain that I would obey him? Why did I find it so damn sexy? The way his eyes pinned me down right now had my pulse beating so hard I thought it might break the skin.
And the real question was, if I found it so sexy, why was I acting like such a bitch? Why couldn’t I just admit that I liked it when he was in charge? I liked it all; I liked the way it transformed him, I liked how it made me feel safe. I wasn’t sure why it did, but it did. Hearing that authority in his voice soothed me as much as it aroused me. So why couldn’t I tell him? Why couldn’t I, at the very least, admit it to myself and behave?
But no, something inside of me, some frightened, unsure part of me kept thinking that if I gave in, if I let him think it was OK to boss me around that he would go from being my loving husband to a dictator. It was almost comical; I’d been so afraid of telling him I liked sexy spankings, and when I’d finally come clean I’d ended up with so much more than I bargained for.
“Alicia? Did you hear me?” His voice held a warning, and I snapped out of my jumbled thoughts.
“Yes, I heard you,” I replied softly. At his arched eyebrow, I felt a giggle escape me, even though I didn’t find it funny. “Yes, sir ,” I corrected.
With a snap of his fingers, Oliver summoned our waiter, who was standing at a discreet yard away. He surprised me by ordering for us both—lasagna for him, and shrimp Alfredo for me. Before it could even occur to me to mind, he turned those warm chocolate eyes of his on me. “Is that OK?”
Mutely, I nodded, handing my menu over to the waiter. To my surprise, when I thought about it I found that it was. I’d never understood why women fought for the right to open their own door or pull their own chair out. I’d always found those things romantic and chivalrous, and I thought him ordering for me was sweet, though surprising since he’d never done it before.
But I didn’t say any of those things. What I said was, “You didn’t get the veal parmesan.”
“I like yours better. ”
He was being quite the charmer today, wasn’t he? Happiness bubbled inside me at the compliment.
“Besides…I have to admit it’s exciting, trying new things.”
I reached across the table for his hand. I heard what he was saying, loud and clear. “I find it scary sometimes,” I admitted.
“Don’t be scared, your shrimp will be cooked and covered in Alfredo. They can’t bite.”
I stared at him, agape, before throwing my head back and laughing. It
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