Ana’s eyes widen, seeing through me, as ever. “Good different or bad different?” she asks.

The searing pain of Elena’s touch flares in my imagination.

Her hands on me. Her nails scraping my skin while the darkness flailed and clawed at me from within, trying to throw her off.

It was unbearable.

I swallow, trying to dispel the memory. “Bad, I think.” The words are less than a whisper.

“I thought you liked it.”

“I did. At the time.”

“Not now?”

Ana’s eyes are a guileless blue, impossible to escape. Slowly, I shake my head.

“Oh, Christian.” She launches herself at me, an unstoppable force of good, kissing my face, my chest, each of my scars. I groan and answer her kiss with my own passion and my love. And we’re soon lost, making love at my pace. Slowly, tenderly, so I can show her how much I love her.

her teeth as I finish dressing. “I’ll go and check on our guests.”

Her eyes meet mine in the bathroom mirror. “I have a question.”

I lean against the doorjamb. “Pray,

face me, dressed only in a towel. “Does Mrs. Bentley know about your…um…your—”

blush at anything to do with sex, and because Mr. and Mrs. Bentley have no idea.

“No. No playroom here. We’ll have to bring some

the kitchen. They’re the only ones up, it seems, on such a beautiful morning. I greet them both.

smiles, and frankly it’s unnerving. I’m more used to her

“We could go for a hike and a picnic before heading home,” I suggest to Kate.

“Sounds great.”

“Waffles okay today?” Mrs. Bentley asks.

“Great. Picnic for later, would that be possible?”

I shouldn’t dare doubt her culinary abilities. “Oh, and Martin would like a word with you,” she continues. “He’s somewhere in the yard.”

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