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#Chapter 82 – Long, Long Night
I stare at Christian wondering if that’s…well, if that’s a question? Or…an invitation. Because I haven’t let my mind go to the other thing that happened tonight – because it pales, absolutely, in comparison to the death of a man. But now, as I stare at Christian, as I look at him looking up at me, as I let my eyes wander over his face and take in the gorgeous lines of it, his steady blue eyes, his full lips… God, but I remember. I can’t help but remember, because the memory is in every atom of me now. Christian, with his arms tight around me, his mouth moving over mine, bending me to his will, telling me with every ounce of bone and sinew and muscle in his body that I’m his, and he won’t let anyone touch me, never, never – “I think Bambs is tired,” Frankie replies, casually, for both
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