“In spite of my disobedience?” She smirks, immediately lightening the mood.

I chuckle, feeling better. “Because of your disobedience, Anastasia.”

She bashes the caramelized sugar of her dessert with her spoon and scoops up a mouthful, and all thoughts of the crack whore fade.

Once Rebecca has cleared our plates, I offer Ana more rosé. She looks past me to check we’re alone, then leans toward me with a conspiratorial air. “What’s with the no-going-to-the-bathroom thing?” she asks.

Always curious. “You really want to know?”

“Do I?”

I smile. “The fuller your bladder, the more intense your orgasm, Ana.”

“Oh. I see.” A sweet blush colors her cheeks, and I know she’s embarrassed.

Don’t be, baby.

“Yes. Well…” She takes a swift gulp of wine.

“What do you want to do for the rest of the evening?” I ask, to move us on to a more comfortable topic. She raises her right shoulder in a shrug, a suggestive shrug, I think.

Again, Ana?

And I know I could make up for my transgression in bed. But I want more. “I know what I want to do.” I pick up my glass of wine and stand, holding out my hand to her. “Come.”

and I guide her to the dresser, where my iPod is plugged into an impressive speaker. I select a song, something sweet and

“If

“I insist, Mrs.

Michael Bublé is singing the Lou Rawls classic “You’ll Never

her low and she giggles. I right her, then spin her around beneath my arm. She

I love dancing with you, baby.

Elena flits, unwelcome, into my mind, and while I’m grateful to her for teaching me to dance, I’m not happy that she’s in my head.

Don’t go there, Grey.

She’s history.

Let’s just enjoy this.

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