being
distracted by your smart mouth and your refusal to wear that collar.”
Starting to do? Whoa. I
try to take a step back but that just gets me another squeeze, harder this
time, as he pulls me to him. Against the sensitive skin of my abdomen, I can feel
his growing arousal. Before I can let myself think about the delights to be had
by Round Two--or would this be Round Three--I say, “You may be happy to lie
around here all day but I have other plans.”
Ian laughs and chucks me under
the chin. “You’re fun to tease.”
I’m mulling over his apparent
pleasure in that discovery when he takes a pair of plain white robes from a
nearby chest and tosses me one. His eyes glitter as I catch it and hold it in
front of myself in a belated effort at modesty.
“Much as I’d rather you didn’t
cover up,” he says, “I think this will make you more comfortable. I’ve ordered
lunch for us. Before you do anything else, you’re going to eat.”
He shrugs into the other robe
and leaves the secluded tent. I have to wrap mine all the way around myself and
tie it with the attached belt to keep it closed. I’m dragging my fingers
through my hair, trying to restore some order to it, when Ian reappears. He’s
carrying a tray that he sets on a low round table near the pile of pillows.
“I don’t know about you,” he
says with a grin, “but I’m starving.”
I have a sudden memory of the
dinner I denied him that first night and feel myself flush yet again. It’s
getting to be a habit.
“Sit,” he says as he begins
laying out the food on the low table.
I do so only to stiffen when I
notice what he’s taking from the pocket of his robe. “What’s that?”
“This?” He holds up a length of
black silk. “It’s a blindfold.”
Warily, I ask, “What do we need
that for?”
“I want to try an experiment.
Like everyone else, Susannah had certain foods she liked and others she didn’t.
Let’s find out if your tastes are the same.”
That actually sounds like
something I’d want to do but I’m still cautious. “Why do I have to be
blindfolded?”
“Because not being able to see
will heighten your other senses, including taste. Plus, I don’t want you to see
and prejudge whatever is about to go into your mouth.”
A flush seeps over my cheeks as
I consider what I think I’d like in there.
Ian looks at me speculatively.
“Why, Amelia, whatever do you think I mean?”
I refuse to answer him and
shrug. “Let’s just do this.”
“Very well, turn around.”
I hesitate but do so only to
gasp as a strip of dark, silken material appears before me.
“Close your eyes,” he says. His
voice is low, dark, compelling. The cloth tightens around me as he ties it
securely.
At the sudden loss of sight, my
breathing quickens. Instinctively, I raise my hands to the silk but I don’t try
to remove it. I can hear Ian moving nearby but I have no idea what he’s doing.
Twice he brushes against me and both times I jump a little.
“Steady,” he soothes. The
thought occurs to me that he sounds as though he’s calming a fractious filly. I
frown but hold myself very still.
Minutes pass, too many. My
anticipation mounts and with it so does my anxiety. What exactly is he
planning?
Finally, just when I think I
can’t bear to wait any longer, he says, “Open your mouth.”
I do so but slowly, wondering
what I’ve gotten myself into. The touch of metal against my lips makes me start
but an instant later I feel a cool liquid tipped from what must be a spoon. I
swallow, tasting sweet, slightly tangy smoothness.
“ Hmmm , what is that?”
“Red pepper and pear soup, serve
chilled. What do you think of it?”
“It’s good. More, please.”
He laughs and obliges, feeding
me several more spoonfuls before he says, “Enough. Let’s try this.”
Something smooth, round, and
firm slides between my lips. “Bite,” Ian directs. “And chew.”
I do and experience an explosion
of sweetness deepened by a touch of
distracted by your smart mouth and your refusal to wear that collar.”
Starting to do? Whoa. I
try to take a step back but that just gets me another squeeze, harder this
time, as he pulls me to him. Against the sensitive skin of my abdomen, I can feel
his growing arousal. Before I can let myself think about the delights to be had
by Round Two--or would this be Round Three--I say, “You may be happy to lie
around here all day but I have other plans.”
Ian laughs and chucks me under
the chin. “You’re fun to tease.”
I’m mulling over his apparent
pleasure in that discovery when he takes a pair of plain white robes from a
nearby chest and tosses me one. His eyes glitter as I catch it and hold it in
front of myself in a belated effort at modesty.
“Much as I’d rather you didn’t
cover up,” he says, “I think this will make you more comfortable. I’ve ordered
lunch for us. Before you do anything else, you’re going to eat.”
He shrugs into the other robe
and leaves the secluded tent. I have to wrap mine all the way around myself and
tie it with the attached belt to keep it closed. I’m dragging my fingers
through my hair, trying to restore some order to it, when Ian reappears. He’s
carrying a tray that he sets on a low round table near the pile of pillows.
“I don’t know about you,” he
says with a grin, “but I’m starving.”
I have a sudden memory of the
dinner I denied him that first night and feel myself flush yet again. It’s
getting to be a habit.
“Sit,” he says as he begins
laying out the food on the low table.
I do so only to stiffen when I
notice what he’s taking from the pocket of his robe. “What’s that?”
“This?” He holds up a length of
black silk. “It’s a blindfold.”
Warily, I ask, “What do we need
that for?”
“I want to try an experiment.
Like everyone else, Susannah had certain foods she liked and others she didn’t.
Let’s find out if your tastes are the same.”
That actually sounds like
something I’d want to do but I’m still cautious. “Why do I have to be
blindfolded?”
“Because not being able to see
will heighten your other senses, including taste. Plus, I don’t want you to see
and prejudge whatever is about to go into your mouth.”
A flush seeps over my cheeks as
I consider what I think I’d like in there.
Ian looks at me speculatively.
“Why, Amelia, whatever do you think I mean?”
I refuse to answer him and
shrug. “Let’s just do this.”
“Very well, turn around.”
I hesitate but do so only to
gasp as a strip of dark, silken material appears before me.
“Close your eyes,” he says. His
voice is low, dark, compelling. The cloth tightens around me as he ties it
securely.
At the sudden loss of sight, my
breathing quickens. Instinctively, I raise my hands to the silk but I don’t try
to remove it. I can hear Ian moving nearby but I have no idea what he’s doing.
Twice he brushes against me and both times I jump a little.
“Steady,” he soothes. The
thought occurs to me that he sounds as though he’s calming a fractious filly. I
frown but hold myself very still.
Minutes pass, too many. My
anticipation mounts and with it so does my anxiety. What exactly is he
planning?
Finally, just when I think I
can’t bear to wait any longer, he says, “Open your mouth.”
I do so but slowly, wondering
what I’ve gotten myself into. The touch of metal against my lips makes me start
but an instant later I feel a cool liquid tipped from what must be a spoon. I
swallow, tasting sweet, slightly tangy smoothness.
“ Hmmm , what is that?”
“Red pepper and pear soup, serve
chilled. What do you think of it?”
“It’s good. More, please.”
He laughs and obliges, feeding
me several more spoonfuls before he says, “Enough. Let’s try this.”
Something smooth, round, and
firm slides between my lips. “Bite,” Ian directs. “And chew.”
I do and experience an explosion
of sweetness deepened by a touch of
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