Chapter 9: Sweet Domination
The remains of tiramisu smudged Vanja’s dessert spoon. She licked it clean, a slow, deliberate motion that sent heat straight to Joshua’s groin, reigniting the simmering tension that had pulsed beneath the tablecloth all evening. Her laughter, rich and unguarded, still echoed in the cozy warmth of the bistro, mingling with the soft jazz and the clatter of distant dishes. She’d just finished recounting, with vivid gestures, her latest online skirmish with ‘kimmi95’ over the merits of a three-man versus four-man midfield.
"And then this stubborn asshole," she grinned, swirling the dregs of her red wine, "he just kept citing Bundesliga passing stats from 2015, like that ancient history is gospel! As if the game hasn’t evolved, the fucking fossil." She shook her head, dark blonde hair catching the low light. "Honestly, Joshua, sometimes I think he’s just arguing for the sake of hearing his own digital voice."
Joshua watched her, the curve of her lips, the fire in those deep green eyes as she debated tactics she lived and breathed. He felt a strange, almost painful tightness in his chest, a warmth spreading outwards that had nothing to do with the wine. It wasn’t just lust anymore, though that was a constant, potent hum under his skin. It was deeper. Watching her intellectual passion, her sharp wit, the way she stole bites of his food without hesitation… He felt anchored. Centered. Like the chaotic noise of fame and expectation finally had a counterpoint, a grounding wire.
She’s everything, the thought slammed into him with startling clarity. Everything I ever chased on the pitch – the focus, the fire. And everything I never knew I needed off it – this… ease. This fucking joy.
"You are lost in your head again, Captain," Vanja teased, nudging his foot under the table with hers. A faint blush touched her cheeks.
He blinked, pulled back to the polished wood table, the half-empty glasses. "No," he murmured, his voice lower than intended. He reached across the tablecloth, ignoring the remnants of chocolate and espresso cream, and captured her hand where it rested beside her glass. Her skin was warm. "I’m just thinking of you."
Her blush deepened, spreading down her neck, but her gaze held his, surprised and suddenly soft. Her beautiful face shone, open and happy. That simple joy, directed at him, made his stomach clench violently. Butterflies? At twenty-six? Ridiculous. Yet they were there, a frantic fluttering beneath his ribs. He squeezed her hand, a silent pulse of… something immense he couldn’t name yet. She squeezed back, her fingers tightening around his.
For a suspended moment, the bistro faded – the murmur of other diners, the clinking glasses, the smooth jazz. It was just her hand in his, the warmth of her skin, the vulnerability in her eyes that mirrored his own. The world felt impossibly right, impossibly fragile.
Then the waiter materialized silently beside them, presenting the leather folio containing the bill with a discreet cough. The spell fractured, but didn't break. Joshua paid swiftly, barely looking at the total, his focus still locked on Vanja. The charged intimacy of the booth suddenly felt too exposed, too public. He needed space. Air. Her.
"Ready?" he asked, his thumb tracing a slow circle on the back of her hand.
She nodded, that luminous smile still playing on her lips, though a new awareness, a spark of shared anticipation, had lit in her eyes. "Lead the way, Captain."
Outside, the Munich night air was cool and damp, smelling of rain on cobblestones and distant traffic. The streetlights cast long, watery reflections on the wet pavement. Joshua guided her firmly towards his sleek black BMW SUV parked a few meters away, his hand a possessive brand on the small of her back, just above the curve of her ass. The residual warmth from the bistro clung to them, clashing deliciously with the chill.
He hit the key fob. The SUV chirped, lights flashing. He opened the passenger door for her, the heavy scent of premium leather and his own subtle cologne wafting out. Vanja slid in, the silk of her dress whispering against the seat. Joshua rounded the hood, the cool air doing nothing to quell the fire inside him. He climbed into the driver's seat, the door thudding shut with solid finality, sealing them into a dim, private world illuminated only by the soft glow of the dashboard lights.
The engine purred to life, a low vibration beneath them. But he didn’t shift into drive. Didn’t move at all. The silence inside the car was thick, charged. He could hear her breathing, slightly faster than normal. He could smell the wine on her breath, mingling with her own vanilla and jasmine perfume. The memory of her grinding onto his lap in the booth, the heat of her through his trousers, flared white-hot.
He turned to her. Her profile was outlined against the rain-streaked passenger window, her lips slightly parted. He reached out, not for the gearshift, but for her. His hand slid behind her neck, fingers tangling in the soft hair at her nape, pulling her gently towards him across the center console. Her breath hitched.
"Joshua?" Her voice was a whisper, rough around the edges.
He didn’t answer with words. He caught her mouth with his. It wasn’t the teasing, playful kiss from earlier. It was deep, demanding, a claiming. He tasted the lingering sweetness of the tiramisu, the tang of the wine, the unique essence of her. His other hand found her knee, then slid upwards, pushing the hem of her dress higher, his fingers skating over the smooth skin of her inner thigh. She made a small, desperate sound against his lips, melting into the kiss, her own hand coming up to clutch at his shoulder.
He broke the kiss only to lean back, his gaze raking over her. The dim light caught the flush on her skin, the dilated darkness of her pupils, the rapid rise and fall of her chest beneath the silk. His hand slid higher, finding the edge of her lace panties. They were soaked. His grin was feral.
"Fuck, Vanja," he breathed, his voice thick with lust. "Drenched for me already? Just from dinner?" His fingers pressed against the damp lace, rubbing slowly, finding the swollen heat beneath. She gasped, her hips jerking involuntarily against his hand.
"Y-you started it," she managed, her voice trembling. "In the... the booth... with your fucking hands..."
"I started it?" he chuckled darkly, hooking his fingers into the side of her panties. "You were the one squirming on my cock like a desperate little slut under the tablecloth." He tugged sharply. The delicate lace tore easily. He pulled the ruined fabric down her thighs, past her knees, and discarded it onto the floor mat. "Spread your legs."
His command was low, guttural. Vanja obeyed instantly, shifting in the seat, pushing her knees apart. The cool air of the car brushed her exposed sex, making her shiver even as heat pooled low in her belly. Joshua unzipped his trousers with one hand, freeing his cock. It was thick and hard, jutting upwards, the head already slick with pre-cum. He fisted himself once, a rough stroke, his eyes never leaving her glistening folds.
He didn't tease. Didn't wait. The need was too sharp, too consuming. Grabbing her hips, he hauled her roughly across the center console towards him. She yelped as her ass landed half on his lap, half on the leather seat, her legs scrambling for purchase. He shoved her dress up around her waist, baring her completely. The steering wheel pressed awkwardly against her ribs, the gearshift dug into her hip, but none of it mattered. His hand gripped the base of his cock, the thick head nudging against her entrance, slick with her arousal.
"Look at me," he growled.
Vanja’s eyes, dark and wide with need, locked onto his. He saw the flush, the desire, the complete surrender. It undid him. With a powerful thrust of his hips, he drove his cock deep inside her, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke.
"FUCK!" she cried out, her head snapping back, her body arching taut as a bowstring. Her inner muscles clenched around him, impossibly tight, impossibly hot and wet. She felt impossibly full.
He didn't give her time to adjust. Didn't need it. Her body welcomed him, stretched around him, molten silk. He pulled almost all the way out, watching the thick length glisten, then slammed back in. Again. Harder. The SUV rocked slightly with the force. Her sharp cry dissolved into a broken moan.
"Yeah, take it," he rasped, his hands clamping onto her hips, fingers digging into her flesh as he began a relentless pace. Short, deep, punishing thrusts. The wet, rhythmic slap of skin on skin filled the enclosed space, loud and obscene, mingling with her gasping breaths and his own ragged groans. "Take every fucking inch. That's it, grip me like that, you perfect little cunt." He leaned forward, his mouth finding the sensitive skin below her ear, biting down gently before laving the spot with his tongue. "So fucking tight. Feels like you were made just to take my cock."
Vanja writhed against him, pinned between his body and the unyielding steering wheel. Each deep plunge sent sparks of pure, electric pleasure radiating out from her core. The friction, the stretch, the sheer ownership in his thrusts – it was overwhelming. Her fingernails scored his biceps through his shirt. "Joshua... oh god... harder... please..."
He obliged, snapping his hips faster, driving into her with brutal efficiency. The angle was awkward, confined, but it only intensified the raw, primal connection. His thumb found her clit, rubbing hard, fast circles. "Come for me," he demanded, his voice harsh. "Come on my cock. Let me feel you lose it."
The dual assault was too much. Her body coiled impossibly tight, then shattered. A high, keening cry tore from her throat as her orgasm slammed through her, wave after wave of convulsive pleasure. Her inner walls clamped down on his cock like a vise, milking him fiercely. He grunted, a feral sound, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing their punishing rhythm as her climax triggered his own. With a final, deep grind, he buried himself as far as he could go inside her pulsing heat, holding her hips crushed against him as he came. Hot surges of his release filled her, his groan long and low against her neck.
For long moments, the only sounds were their harsh, ragged breathing and the patter of rain on the roof. Vanja slumped against him, boneless, her head resting on his shoulder, her body still trembling with aftershocks. Joshua kept his cock buried deep inside her, his arms wrapped loosely around her, one hand stroking her hair absently. The heat between them was stifling now, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat and expensive leather. Condensation fogged the windows, turning the outside world into a blur of coloured lights, sealing them in their own humid, intimate aftermath.
He nuzzled her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple. Her breathing slowly evened out. She shifted slightly, a wince crossing her face as the steering wheel dug into her side. She laughed, a soft, breathy sound against his neck, still laced with the edge of aftermath. "You fucking caveman," she murmured, her voice hoarse. "Nearly cracked my ribs on your steering wheel."
He chuckled, the vibration rumbling through his chest into hers. "Worth it." He finally pulled out of her slowly, making her gasp softly at the sensitivity. He reached down, pulling her torn panties back up her legs, a strangely tender gesture after the ferocity. He adjusted her dress, smoothing the silk down over her thighs. "Need to get you home before I fuck you senseless again. This car’s getting cramped."
She lifted her head, meeting his eyes. The glow from the dash illuminated her face – flushed, a little dazed, but radiating a profound contentment. Her hand drifted down, resting lightly over the growing hardness he knew was already stirring again beneath his open zipper. She gave him a slow, knowing smirk. "Getting cramped? Or are you just scared I might break your precious gearshift next time, Captain?"
He caught her wrist, bringing her palm to his lips, kissing it fiercely. The butterflies were gone, replaced by a deep, possessive thrum. "Try me, meine kleine Kriegerin," he growled, his eyes dark with renewed promise. "See what breaks first." He turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring back to life, a declaration of intent. "But first, home. We've got unfinished arguments." A smirk touched his lips. "That fossil 'kimmi95' isn't going to debate himself." He shifted the SUV into gear, pulling away from the curb, the rain-streaked city dissolving into streaks of light outside their steamy sanctuary. Vanja settled back in her seat, watching him, a secretive smile playing on her lips. She knew he had no idea how unfinished that particular argument truly was. Her thumb traced idle circles on his thigh, feeling the powerful muscle tense beneath her touch. Soon, she thought. Very soon.
The BMW’s tires hissed on the rain-slicked Munich streets, the rhythmic swish of the wipers the only sound besides Vanja’s quiet breathing. Joshua’s hand rested possessively on her thigh, warmth radiating through the thin silk of her dress. The scent of their frantic coupling still hung thick in the leather-scented air, a potent reminder of minutes ago. Vanja watched the city lights blur past, her body humming pleasantly, her mind replaying the sharp, perfect agony of his thrusts against the steering wheel.
He navigated the familiar route towards his sleek, modern apartment overlooking the Englischer Garten, his thumb tracing idle circles on her skin. The silence wasn't awkward; it was charged, heavy with unspoken things. Vanja turned her head slightly, studying his profile illuminated by the dashboard glow – the sharp jawline, the focused intensity in his eyes softened only slightly by recent satisfaction. A small, knowing smile touched her lips.
"You know," she began, her voice low and husky, still carrying the rasp of exertion. "That fossil 'kimmi95'... he really is insufferably arrogant."
Joshua’s grip tightened almost imperceptibly on her thigh. He kept his eyes on the road, but a muscle ticked in his jaw. "Is he now?" he replied, his tone deliberately neutral, almost bored. "Just some idiot hiding behind a screen."
Vanja chuckled softly, the sound rich and intimate in the confined space. She shifted, turning fully towards him, her gaze sharp and direct. "Oh, he’s definitely an idiot," she agreed smoothly. "But not just any idiot." She paused, letting the tension coil. "I know it’s you, Joshua."
He flinched. His knuckles went white on the steering wheel. He didn’t look at her. "What?"
"You told me," Vanja stated, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper laced with amusement. "That night. When you came to my place, drunk off your ass, before we ever fucked the first time. Rambling about midfield triangles and how 'jaka95' was the only one who ever understood your fucking vision." She laughed then, a bright, genuine sound. "You were utterly plastered, stumbling over your own boots, declaring your forum identity like it was a state secret."
A deep flush crept up Joshua’s neck, staining his cheeks crimson even in the dim light. He finally glanced at her, his expression a mixture of profound embarrassment and reluctant amusement. "Fuck," he muttered, shaking his head. "I... I just liked seeing you react," he admitted gruffly, a reluctant grin tugging at his lips. "Watching your face when you argued with him... with me... online. Knowing it was pissing you off." He reached over, his hand abandoning the wheel for a moment to cup her cheek. "It was fucking hot."
He pulled her towards him, ignoring the road for a dangerous second, and kissed her. It wasn't the demanding, claiming kiss from the car; it was softer, deeper, laced with a vulnerability he rarely showed. His lips moved slowly against hers, tasting of shared wine and lingering desire. When he pulled back, his eyes were dark, serious. "Move in with me," he said, the words abrupt, raw, hanging heavy in the humid air.
Vanja blinked. "Joshua," she breathed, a warning note in her voice. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
"What?" he challenged, his gaze unwavering, intense. "We can convert the spare room. Make you a proper study. You could write your PhD there." He gestured vaguely towards the city lights. "And well... you are here most nights anyway." He shrugged, trying for nonchalance but failing utterly. "Practically live here already."
Vanja felt the heat bloom across her own face, a fierce blush spreading from her neck to her hairline. She looked down at her hands twisting in her lap. "If... if you wanted me to leave," she stammered, her voice small, "you could've just said—"
"Are you even listening, woman?" Joshua interrupted, his voice rough with sudden frustration. He pulled the BMW sharply into the underground garage of his building, tires squealing faintly on the concrete. He slammed the gearshift into park, the engine cutting off abruptly. In the sudden, echoing silence, he turned fully in his seat. He reached out, both hands now framing her face, forcing her to meet his burning gaze. "I want you to move it," he emphasized, his thumbs brushing her cheekbones. "Not leave. Never leave." His voice dropped lower, thick with an emotion that stripped away his usual cocky veneer. "I want you here. With me."
The intensity in his eyes, the raw sincerity in his voice, hit Vanja like a physical blow. The blush deepened impossibly, flooding her entire face with heat. She felt utterly exposed, yet strangely safe. Butterflies, huge and frantic, erupted in her stomach again, a chaotic fluttering that stole her breath. Fuck. She couldn't speak. She just stared into his eyes, seeing the fierce, possessive need mirrored there, mixed with a terrifying vulnerability she hadn't known he possessed.
He leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. His breath was warm on her skin. "So?" he murmured, the single word loaded with everything. "What say you?"
Vanja swallowed hard. The butterflies were a hurricane inside her. She saw the flicker of doubt cross his features, the slight tightening of his jaw as he braced for rejection. Slowly, deliberately, she nodded. Once. A sharp, decisive movement.
Relief washed over his face, instantly replaced by a blazing triumph. He kissed her again, hard and fast, a seal on the promise. "Good," he growled against her lips. The butterflies didn't calm; they intensified, a wild, exhilarating surge. Fuck. He pulled back slightly, his eyes gleaming with pure, predatory satisfaction. "Now," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr as he unbuckled his seatbelt with a sharp click. "Let's christen that future study properly." His hand slid possessively down her arm, fingers tangling with hers. "Before I lose my fucking mind."
The BMW’s door thudded shut behind them, the sound echoing sharply in the cavernous, concrete stillness of the underground garage. Joshua’s hand clamped around Vanja’s wrist, fingers digging in, pulling her urgently towards the elevator bank. His strides were long, purposeful, fueled by a hunger that crackled in the air between them. "Move," he growled, the single word rough-edged, vibrating with barely leashed impatience. Vanja stumbled slightly in her heels, her own pulse hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs, matching the sharp click-clack of her steps on the concrete floor. The scent of damp concrete, exhaust fumes, and the lingering musk of their recent coupling clung to them.
He stabbed the elevator call button, the harsh fluorescent lights overhead bleaching his features, highlighting the tension in his jaw, the dark intensity in his eyes. He didn't look at her; his gaze was fixed on the steel doors, willing them to open faster. His other hand slid possessively to the small of her back, fingers splaying wide beneath the silk of her dress, pressing her firmly against his side. She could feel the hard ridge of his renewed arousal pressing against her hip through his trousers, a potent reminder of what awaited. The torn lace of her panties felt like a secret flag against her skin. Her breath hitched. The elevator chimed, its doors sliding open with agonizing slowness. He practically shoved her inside, crowding in behind her before the doors fully retracted.
The mirrored walls reflected their flushed faces, their disheveled clothes – her dress askew, his shirt untucked. Joshua slammed his palm against the button for his penthouse floor. As the elevator hummed upwards, he spun her around, pinning her against the cool metal wall. His mouth crashed down onto hers, a kiss devoid of finesse, all teeth and desperate tongue, silencing any protest before it could form. His hands were everywhere – tangling in her hair, gripping her ass through the silk, hauling her leg up to hook around his hip. The hard bulge in his trousers ground against her exposed core, still slick and sensitive from the car. She moaned into his mouth, her hands clawing at his shoulders, the elevator’s ascent a dizzying counterpoint to the frantic heat building between them.
The doors slid open onto the hushed luxury of his private hallway. He broke the kiss, panting, his eyes wild. "Guest room," he rasped, pulling her out, his stride never breaking. He fumbled with keys, cursing under his breath, finally shoving the heavy door open. He dragged her inside, kicking it shut behind them with a resonant thud that echoed in the spacious, dimly lit room. Moonlight streamed through the large windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air and the pristine, unused furniture – a stark contrast to the raw need consuming them. He backed her against the closed door, the wood cool and solid against her spine. His hands went to the straps of her dress, yanking them down roughly. The silk pooled around her waist, baring her breasts to the cool air. He groaned, low and guttural, his mouth descending hungrily onto one peaked nipple, sucking hard, his tongue flicking the taut bud.
"Oh fuck, Joshua," Vanja gasped, arching her back, pushing herself deeper into his mouth. Her fingers scrabbled at his belt buckle, desperate to free him. He lifted his head, his lips glistening, eyes dark pools of lust. He helped her, shoving his trousers and boxers down his hips in one rough motion. His cock sprang free, thick and rigid, the head already slick. He grabbed her hips, lifting her effortlessly. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, her core grinding against the hard heat of him. He pinned her harder against the door, the wood biting into her shoulder blades. His hand slid between them, fingers finding her soaked folds, plunging two inside her with a wet, obscene sound. She cried out, her head thudding back against the door. "So fucking wet," he breathed against her neck, his fingers curling, stroking that deep, sensitive spot. "Still dripping from me filling you up in the car? My greedy little cunt."
"Yes," she whimpered, her hips bucking against his hand. "Yes, yours... fuck me, Joshua. Fuck me properly." Her plea was raw, stripped bare.
He withdrew his fingers, slick and glistening in the moonlight. He gripped the base of his cock, the thick head nudging insistently against her entrance. He held her gaze, his own burning with an intensity that stole her breath. "Look at me," he commanded, his voice thick. She did, her dark green eyes wide, drowning in his. With a powerful thrust of his hips, he drove himself deep inside her, burying his cock to the hilt in one smooth, relentless stroke. She gasped, a sharp intake of breath, her inner walls instantly clamping down around the thick invasion, stretching deliciously. He held himself there, buried deep, his forehead pressed against hers, his breath hot and ragged on her skin. "Christ, Vanja," he groaned, the sound torn from deep within his chest. "So fucking perfect. So tight."
He began to move. Not with the frantic, punishing pace of the car. This was different. Deeper. Slower. Intentional. Each withdrawal was almost agonizingly deliberate, pulling out until just the swollen head remained lodged inside her, making her whimper at the loss. Then he’d surge forward again, a long, deep glide that filled her utterly, grinding his pelvis against her clit with each powerful thrust. The angle against the door, the slow, deep penetration, the friction against her sensitive nub – it built a different kind of fire, hotter, more consuming, spreading through her limbs like molten honey. His hands cradled her ass, lifting her slightly to take him deeper, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh. His eyes never left hers, watching every flicker of pleasure cross her face, every gasp that escaped her lips. The wet, rhythmic slap of their bodies meeting filled the quiet room, a primal counterpoint to their ragged breathing.
"Feel that?" he murmured, his voice a low, intimate rumble vibrating through her chest. He shifted slightly, angling his hips, hitting a spot deep inside that made her cry out, stars bursting behind her eyelids. "Feel how deep I am?" He held himself there, grinding slowly, deliberately against that exquisite spot. "Taking every fucking inch of me." His hand slid up her spine, tangling in her hair, pulling her head back gently to expose her throat. He kissed the frantic pulse there, his lips soft against her skin, a stark contrast to the relentless, deep thrusts of his hips. "You’re mine, Vanja," he breathed against her damp skin, the words a vow, a claiming. "All mine." The tenderness woven into the raw possession shattered her control.
Her climax built slowly, inexorably, coiling tighter and tighter with each deep, grinding thrust. It wasn't the sharp, explosive release of before; it was a rising tide, flooding her senses, drowning her in pure, overwhelming sensation. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her legs tightening around his waist, holding him deep inside her as the waves began to crest. "Joshua..." she moaned, her voice breaking. "I'm... oh god..."
He felt her inner muscles begin to flutter, the telltale tightening signaling her peak. He increased the pace slightly, his thrusts becoming shorter, harder, focused entirely on that deep, sweet spot. His gaze locked onto hers, intense, unwavering. "Come for me," he urged, his voice thick with his own building tension. "Let go, meine Kriegerin. Let me feel you come."
The command, the endearment, the sheer depth of him filling her – it tipped her over. Her orgasm crashed through her, a silent, powerful convulsion that arched her back against the door. Her mouth opened in a soundless cry, her eyes squeezing shut as pure, white-hot pleasure radiated outwards from her core, flooding every nerve ending. Her inner walls clenched rhythmically around his cock, milking him fiercely, pulling him deeper into her pulsing heat.
He groaned, a deep, guttural sound ripped from his throat. He drove into her once, twice more, hard and deep, burying himself completely as his own release tore through him. His hips jerked against hers, grinding as hot pulses of his cum flooded deep inside her. His forehead pressed hard against hers, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Vanja," he choked out, his voice thick, raw with emotion, trembling against her skin. "Fuck... I love you."
The words, spoken against her lips, mingling with the shared heat of their breath, hit her with the force of a physical blow. I love you. Not in the heat of passion moments before, but now, as he emptied himself inside her, vulnerable and utterly exposed. The shockwave of his confession reverberated through her spent body, triggering an impossible second climax. It wasn't physical this time; it was pure, electric emotion, a jolt that seized her chest, stealing her breath, making her gasp sharply against his lips. Her inner muscles spasmed weakly around his still-pulsing cock, a final, involuntary clench of pure, overwhelming feeling.
He felt it, the subtle tremor, the renewed flutter deep within her. He lifted his head slightly, his eyes searching hers in the moonlight, wide with surprise and dawning wonder. A slow, incredulous smile touched his lips, softening the harsh lines of passion. "Jesus," he breathed, his voice husky with awe. "Did you just...?"
She couldn't speak. Tears pricked her eyes, blurring his face. She nodded mutely, her throat tight. He leaned his forehead against hers again, a gentle press this time, his breath mingling with hers. His thumbs brushed away the moisture gathering at the corners of her eyes. "Vanja," he whispered, her name a benediction. He kissed her then, softly, slowly, a profound tenderness replacing the frantic urgency. His lips moved gently against hers, sealing the confession, the shared vulnerability hanging thick and sweet in the air between them. He stayed buried inside her, their bodies still intimately joined, pressed against the cool wood of the door, the only sound their gradually slowing breaths and the distant hum of the city far below. His hand slid down to cradle the back of her head, holding her close. "My study," he murmured against her temple, his voice rough but warm. "We start tomorrow."