Kudos to Jax for the Chrissyspeak suggestion.

Rose41

"I said I want to be a man for you," Erik told her again.

She shifted her weight and cocked a brow. "You are a man for me," she said. "In the most wild, fulfilling, hard, long-lasting, deep-thrusting and sensual meaning of the word. If you were any more a man, I wouldn't be able to walk straight."

"TMI, Christine, TMI!" Raoul shouted.

Erik ignored him and took Christine by the hands. "But I want to take care of you. Outside of, the…well…"

"The swan bed, the boat, the organ bench, the closet outside of the stage, and up against the bedroom wall?" she offered.

Bouquet whistled to himself and apparently disagreed with Raoul that Christine gave more information than they'd ever wanted to know. He gave an eyebrow waggle of approval and licked his lips as though he found her Chrissylicious, which made her roll her eyes in disgust.

"Is that all you think I am?" She pulled her hands away from him and stomped her foot, barely missing his toes. "A cowering little wench who needs a real man to protect her? A trollup who clings to the first man who comes along and digs her kitten-like claws into his manhood?"

"Good God, of course not." He shivered at the thought of kitten-like claws and manhood, which didn't belong in the same sentence—especially when his manhood was involved.

"Good, because Christine is not a helpless waif. Christine—"

"I see that," he interrupted. "And please, no more third person, Christine, it's rather unsettling."

"Right. My apologies." She exhaled, realizing she'd gotten herself worked up once more. The adrenaline rush of fending for herself still left her willing and more than able to put up a fight. "I just don't understand how you could be disappointed in me when I saved myself."

"I'm not," he argued.

"Then what exactly is the problem? You come searching for me, and then when you discover I'm out of harm's way, you seem disappointed. Did you wish to find me beaten or dead?"

"No."

"Then shouldn't you be thrilled?"

"I'm happy to see that you're all right. I couldn't live with myself if he'd hurt you."

"Then what on earth is wrong with you?"

"It's as though you don't even need me," he blurted out. "Your voice is good—it could be better, but you've proven yourself, and now you don't need me to save you from harm. What do you need me for?"

"Just because you and Raoul failed to arrive in time to be manly and heroic does not mean that I don't need you."

He stared at her. "Failed," he said flatly.

Christine gave a sheepish grin. "Oh, well, I didn't mean fail as in fail. I meant it more as…well…didn't quite succeed."

"I didn't realize there was a difference," he snapped.

"I knew you would come eventually," she offered. "You always do."

Raoul snickered, which earned him a stern glare from Erik.

"It's just that you've always depended on me…or at least that's what I've imagined. Is it wrong of me to want you to depend on me?"

"But I don't want to depend on you," she protested. "I've been on my own for years—or at least as along as one can be smashed into a dormitory the size of a box of matches with dozens of whining, sniveling little girls." She frowned at him and shook her head. "Is that all you wanted? A woman to cling to you? Answer me that."

"Is that all I wanted? No, that isn't all I wanted. What I've wanted all along was affection, long walks at night, and the other pleasures that come with a relationship between a man and his woman."

"But you have that."

"And I almost lost it. He took her hands in his. "I can't bear to think of losing you."

"You won't, she promised, standing on the tips of her toes to kiss his cheek. "You're the parts of me that have always been missing. We belong together. And besides, I may not depend on you to save my life when a crazed and vengeful stagehand Chrissynaps me."

"Excuse me?"

"Chrissynaps."

His eyes narrowed.

"Never mind. Erik, just know that I want you. It has nothing to do with needing a man, but wanting one. And I want you."

His eyes brightened, expression changed from dismal to hopeful. "Do you mean that? Honestly?"

She nodded. "I'm glad you came looking for me."

"I would have searched the world for you."

"And I'm glad we had this disagreement."

"You are?"

"Yes, we need to make up," she said with a devilish smile. "And luckily we're close to home because the closer we are to the opera house, the closer we are to the swan bed." She kissed him once on the cheek, and Erik found himself already prepared for the swan bed and all of its promises. "Now, may we discuss this elsewhere?" She pulled away from him and blew air into her cupped hands, then placed them over her no longer heaving bosom. "I'm freezing."

Erik nodded toward Bouquet. "What about him?"

She pursed her lips. "Well, I'd say we march him straight over to Madame Giry and see what she says about all of this kidnapping and debauchery. I'm sure Madame will put him in front of a chorus line and let us all kick him until he's a mezzo soprano."

Erik took her by the hand. "I don't imagine the managers will keep him employed much longer, especially when they hear what has happened."

"I suspect not."

"And if they think of keeping him around, I will persuade them otherwise." He scowled menacingly.

She shivered at his assertive nature and ran the palms of her hands over his chest. "At any rate, I don't plan spending the rest of my career in the Opera Populaire."

He looked at her with genuine concern. "Where will you go?" he asked.

"It's always been my dream to travel." She took his arm, and together they walked toward the open gates of Our Lady of Perpetual Longing. "Anywhere I go, will you go, too?"

"Of course, Christine. If you ask it of me."

"Then that's all I ask of you."