loyalty to Yannick was a tangible thing that he could almost taste.
Something dropped from her nightgown and struck his cheek. A cross, dangling on the thin silver chain encircling her neck. Bastien shifted, catching the warm silver cross on his tongue.
He suckled it lightly, until she yanked it back. In the dark, he saw her look of horror.
But she didn’t leave the bed.
“Damn, but you are a true beauty,” he breathed. She ducked her head at the compliment and it seemed to trouble her more.
Her fair brows drew together. Her lashes dipped over her eyes. “I shouldn’t.”
Bastien was used to wiping clean a woman’s guilt. “Because of Yannick?” He cradled her cheek to reassure her. Heat—a flare of it, a spark like a strike across flint—leapt though his hand at the touch. “I know I’ve shared you with Yannick in the dreams.”
She blushed prettily beneath his fingers, a flush he could see easily with his predator’s vision.
“What did Yannick do to you, sweetheart?”
“I cannot say.”
He caught her delicate chin between forefinger and thumb. “I’ve been in the dreams, Althea. And I’ve done unspeakable sexual things. You can’t shock me.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear but the thick mass spilled forward again. “No, I expect I cannot. But it’s…it’s private. And intimate.”
He gave a wicked grin. “Ah, but I always share women with my brother.”
“Always?” She stared, eyes wide open. Even in the dark, they sparkled. Though he couldn’t see the exact color in the dark, he knew they were the green of the rain-soaked lawns surrounding Inglewood. Yannick’s home now. His no longer.
With a fluid movement, he sat up also, so he could cradle her from behind. Althea squirmed for a moment as he lifted her and settled her voluptuous bottom between his parted thighs. His erection bumped her spine through her nightgown. “Aye, always. Which means I’ve often seen him perform.”
She didn’t resist as he cupped her slim shoulders. “Now, what does Yannick do to please a woman?” he mused. “What have I seen him do?”
She gasped at that.
Gathering her hair in one thick mass, Bastien lifted it, flicked his tongue along her bared neck. Sweet and salty, touched by feminine perspiration and lavender-scented soap. He traced his way up to her ear. “Did he use his prick?”
He nipped her earlobe gently with his front teeth. He wrapped his arms around her and cradled her tight to him, where she belonged. Her heartbeat raced against his naked forearm.
“Please—”
“Or his mouth?”
“Don’t.”
Blood Red by Sharon Page ©2006 Advance Reader Copy www.SharonPage.com 52
“There’s no shame, love. There’s pleasure in talking about sex.” He nibbled her ear, rewarded by the arch in her back, the soft moan whispering from her lips. “An aphrodisiac, as it were.”
“And there’s no shame in telling me what Yannick’s done, love. You’re destined to be shared by us.” For now at least.
He felt her shudder through his body, recognized it for what it was—a barely restrained surrender to arousal. She liked to talk about sex.
Her head tipped up and she turned in his arms. “What if I do not believe in the notion of destiny? Perhaps I believe I have a choice in this. What if I choose one of you instead of both?”
Bastien skimmed his hands up higher and cradled her breasts. Her heart thudded with life and desire against his palm. “Then choose me, angel.”
Heaven help her, Althea thought, the choice was no longer easy. Just like his brother, Bastien had appeared without a stitch—she knew that because his warm naked skin pressed against her. In the dark, with no moonlight, she couldn’t see him, but she knew his long, bare legs stretched on either side of hers. Muscular, naked arms surrounded her. His broad, bare chest was a solid wall behind her back.
This shouldn’t feel so intimate. He’d escaped confinement, for heaven’s sake, and was likely
Something dropped from her nightgown and struck his cheek. A cross, dangling on the thin silver chain encircling her neck. Bastien shifted, catching the warm silver cross on his tongue.
He suckled it lightly, until she yanked it back. In the dark, he saw her look of horror.
But she didn’t leave the bed.
“Damn, but you are a true beauty,” he breathed. She ducked her head at the compliment and it seemed to trouble her more.
Her fair brows drew together. Her lashes dipped over her eyes. “I shouldn’t.”
Bastien was used to wiping clean a woman’s guilt. “Because of Yannick?” He cradled her cheek to reassure her. Heat—a flare of it, a spark like a strike across flint—leapt though his hand at the touch. “I know I’ve shared you with Yannick in the dreams.”
She blushed prettily beneath his fingers, a flush he could see easily with his predator’s vision.
“What did Yannick do to you, sweetheart?”
“I cannot say.”
He caught her delicate chin between forefinger and thumb. “I’ve been in the dreams, Althea. And I’ve done unspeakable sexual things. You can’t shock me.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear but the thick mass spilled forward again. “No, I expect I cannot. But it’s…it’s private. And intimate.”
He gave a wicked grin. “Ah, but I always share women with my brother.”
“Always?” She stared, eyes wide open. Even in the dark, they sparkled. Though he couldn’t see the exact color in the dark, he knew they were the green of the rain-soaked lawns surrounding Inglewood. Yannick’s home now. His no longer.
With a fluid movement, he sat up also, so he could cradle her from behind. Althea squirmed for a moment as he lifted her and settled her voluptuous bottom between his parted thighs. His erection bumped her spine through her nightgown. “Aye, always. Which means I’ve often seen him perform.”
She didn’t resist as he cupped her slim shoulders. “Now, what does Yannick do to please a woman?” he mused. “What have I seen him do?”
She gasped at that.
Gathering her hair in one thick mass, Bastien lifted it, flicked his tongue along her bared neck. Sweet and salty, touched by feminine perspiration and lavender-scented soap. He traced his way up to her ear. “Did he use his prick?”
He nipped her earlobe gently with his front teeth. He wrapped his arms around her and cradled her tight to him, where she belonged. Her heartbeat raced against his naked forearm.
“Please—”
“Or his mouth?”
“Don’t.”
Blood Red by Sharon Page ©2006 Advance Reader Copy www.SharonPage.com 52
“There’s no shame, love. There’s pleasure in talking about sex.” He nibbled her ear, rewarded by the arch in her back, the soft moan whispering from her lips. “An aphrodisiac, as it were.”
“And there’s no shame in telling me what Yannick’s done, love. You’re destined to be shared by us.” For now at least.
He felt her shudder through his body, recognized it for what it was—a barely restrained surrender to arousal. She liked to talk about sex.
Her head tipped up and she turned in his arms. “What if I do not believe in the notion of destiny? Perhaps I believe I have a choice in this. What if I choose one of you instead of both?”
Bastien skimmed his hands up higher and cradled her breasts. Her heart thudded with life and desire against his palm. “Then choose me, angel.”
Heaven help her, Althea thought, the choice was no longer easy. Just like his brother, Bastien had appeared without a stitch—she knew that because his warm naked skin pressed against her. In the dark, with no moonlight, she couldn’t see him, but she knew his long, bare legs stretched on either side of hers. Muscular, naked arms surrounded her. His broad, bare chest was a solid wall behind her back.
This shouldn’t feel so intimate. He’d escaped confinement, for heaven’s sake, and was likely
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