“Hey,” Flicka said to Dieter. “That’s Rae’s friend Lizzy. We should say hi.”
“Maybe we will later,” he said, “if you’re not too tired.”
After Flicka ate the tender fish and oh-my-God actual creamy potatoes, she sat back in her chair, thoroughly stuffed. “I’d forgotten how good it feelsto stuff yourself silly. Do they have a dessert menu?”
“I called ahead. The chef said he would make sticky toffee pudding just for you.”
“I think I’m going to love this pregnancy thing.”
She ate the warm, caramel toffee pudding and patted her tummy afterward, which she believed was beginning to pooch out from impending motherhood even though she was not even three months along, though it mighthave been the sticky toffee pudding. “Dancing now?”
Dieter answered, “Of course, myDurchlauchtig.”
And yet, she couldn’t shake her odd suspicion that something was up with Dieter. He had the sarcastic half-smile on his face and a snap of silver sparks in his eyes that had meant, in London, that she was going to end up tied to something with her ass in the air.
When they danced, his hands foundher hips and shoulders, caressing her, soothing her, brushing under her jaw and down her arms. She could feel herself responding to him already, swaying against his body, touching his burly arms and feeling the ripples of his abs under his shirt.
The sparkle in Dieter’s eyes intensified, and he was practically grinning.
Yeah, he was up to something.
As he held her in his arms, swaying againsther with his hands on her back, he said into her hair, “I have something else to show you.”
Yeah, she just bet he did. “Lead the way.”
They pushed through the crowd, and Dieter wrapped his strong arm around her shoulders protectively as he broke their path to a door on the edge of the floor.
When they got there, Dieter showed the man his phone and said, “We have a reservation for eleven.”
The guy glanced at Dieter’s phone. “Yes, sir. This way.”
They followed him through halls that looked increasingly less like a restaurant, becoming more dungeon-like.
Dungeon?
She said, “Wait a minute—”
“Do you want to go home?” he asked her.
“I didn’t say that. I think I just caught on, though.”
“Good.”
The guy opened a door with an iron key in a large, black lock, and Dieter led her inside.
In the room, boxes and frames made of metal bars and laced together with leather stood around the room. “I don’t know what any of these are for.”
Behind her, Dieter growled, “I do.”
He grabbed her wrists and spun her against the wall. The brick wall felt rough against her back, nearly scraping her shoulder blades. Dieter pinned both her wrists above her head and kissed her, his tongue slidingbetween her lips and invading her mouth.
Oh, yes.Not that Flicka’d had any doubts for months, but this rough, passionate, protective man was all Dieter Schwarz.
He held her hands to the wall with one hand, and his other traversed her body, bending to her curves, stroking her. He pulled back and ran his teeth down her throat. “God, you’re sexy,” he whispered.
Flicka whimpered, already beyondwords.
“I love how soft you are, how womanly your body has become. I want to make you do things you say you don’t want to, but you do. What’s your safeword?”
