tears well up in her eyes before she gathered up her self-control and faced him again. “It’s not something I’m going to be talking about. Not ever again.”
Elijah pressed his lips together tightly, finally letting go so she could free herself. She stood up and tensed, preparing herself for an argument.
Instead she found herself blinking in surprise as he unwound the fuzzy blanket from her legs, then smoothed the skirt of her nightie around her hips. He hooked sure fingers in the straps of the bodice, pulling them up until they were again settled on her shoulders.
Elijah stood as well, and Samantha noted that, even though he’d been on his knees in front of her, even though he’d had her crushed in his arms, he didn’t appear wrinkled or mussed in the least.
He held out a hand for her, and after a long moment she finally took it, enjoying the warmth of his palm pressed into her own.
“Come on. Let’s get you something to eat.”
• • •
E lijah watched with eagle eyes as Samantha tugged uncomfortably at the short skirt of her nightgown. He knew she was uncomfortable dressed as she was in public, though he’d assured her that the diner that sat next door to the club catered to clientele in all states of dress—or undress.
He’d been there once before, when he’d checked out the other BDSM club in the area prior to opening Devorar and, to his relief, nothing had changed. People dressed in rubber, dog collars, and hobble skirts sat at booths with cracked leather seats, drinking sodas and eating nacho chips with no more self-consciousness than if they’d been wearing blue jeans.
He felt Samantha relax a bit as they pushed through the glass door and walked into the steam-and-spice-infused air of the diner. She didn’t relax as completely as he knew she was capable of, though, and he was glad.
He wanted her off balance. In his experience, people tended to be more honest when they were.
“What would you like to drink?” he asked as he settled her into a booth, regretting the embarrassment that was on her face. So many people worried after letting go in a scene, after spilling a secret that they’d held close to them.
But the entire point of the BDSM lifestyle was exactly that: to let go.
“Diet cola, please.” Samantha kept her eyes down and Elijah frowned. It wasn’t that she was feeling submissive, he knew, but that she felt embarrassed.
He needed to give her something else to think about.
Leaning over, he placed his hands on her shoulders, wishing it was her soft skin he was touching rather than the thin weave of the cardigan that she’d insisted on putting on over her nightie. She looked up at the touch, startled.
Though he wanted to take a moment to inhale that floral scent that was so uniquely hers, he kept her needs in the front of his mind. Without any warning, Elijah slanted his lips over Samantha’s in a kiss that was hot and hard, demanding more.
He heard her swift intake of breath—felt his own breath catch—and savored the feeling of her trembling beneath his fingers. He deepened the kiss, swiping his tongue over the seam of her lips, demanding entrance.
He’d started the kiss as a distraction for her, but felt the heat flash all the way through his body.
She didn’t become limp and pliant beneath his caress; instead, she answered with her own fire. He hadn’t expected it, but he thrilled to it just the same.
A wolf whistle pierced the lust-fueled haze that surrounded them, reminding Elijah of where they were, of why he had kissed Samantha in the first place.
Slowly he pulled back, feeling the heat of her lips imprinted on his own.
As she blinked up at him with those mesmerizing green eyes, her fingers strayed to her lips to trace the path that his mouth had just traveled.
“I’ll go get you some food. Why don’t you stay here?” Truthfully, Elijah was relieved to have a moment to clear his thoughts.
Shit . That kiss had made his head spin . . .
Elijah pressed his lips together tightly, finally letting go so she could free herself. She stood up and tensed, preparing herself for an argument.
Instead she found herself blinking in surprise as he unwound the fuzzy blanket from her legs, then smoothed the skirt of her nightie around her hips. He hooked sure fingers in the straps of the bodice, pulling them up until they were again settled on her shoulders.
Elijah stood as well, and Samantha noted that, even though he’d been on his knees in front of her, even though he’d had her crushed in his arms, he didn’t appear wrinkled or mussed in the least.
He held out a hand for her, and after a long moment she finally took it, enjoying the warmth of his palm pressed into her own.
“Come on. Let’s get you something to eat.”
• • •
E lijah watched with eagle eyes as Samantha tugged uncomfortably at the short skirt of her nightgown. He knew she was uncomfortable dressed as she was in public, though he’d assured her that the diner that sat next door to the club catered to clientele in all states of dress—or undress.
He’d been there once before, when he’d checked out the other BDSM club in the area prior to opening Devorar and, to his relief, nothing had changed. People dressed in rubber, dog collars, and hobble skirts sat at booths with cracked leather seats, drinking sodas and eating nacho chips with no more self-consciousness than if they’d been wearing blue jeans.
He felt Samantha relax a bit as they pushed through the glass door and walked into the steam-and-spice-infused air of the diner. She didn’t relax as completely as he knew she was capable of, though, and he was glad.
He wanted her off balance. In his experience, people tended to be more honest when they were.
“What would you like to drink?” he asked as he settled her into a booth, regretting the embarrassment that was on her face. So many people worried after letting go in a scene, after spilling a secret that they’d held close to them.
But the entire point of the BDSM lifestyle was exactly that: to let go.
“Diet cola, please.” Samantha kept her eyes down and Elijah frowned. It wasn’t that she was feeling submissive, he knew, but that she felt embarrassed.
He needed to give her something else to think about.
Leaning over, he placed his hands on her shoulders, wishing it was her soft skin he was touching rather than the thin weave of the cardigan that she’d insisted on putting on over her nightie. She looked up at the touch, startled.
Though he wanted to take a moment to inhale that floral scent that was so uniquely hers, he kept her needs in the front of his mind. Without any warning, Elijah slanted his lips over Samantha’s in a kiss that was hot and hard, demanding more.
He heard her swift intake of breath—felt his own breath catch—and savored the feeling of her trembling beneath his fingers. He deepened the kiss, swiping his tongue over the seam of her lips, demanding entrance.
He’d started the kiss as a distraction for her, but felt the heat flash all the way through his body.
She didn’t become limp and pliant beneath his caress; instead, she answered with her own fire. He hadn’t expected it, but he thrilled to it just the same.
A wolf whistle pierced the lust-fueled haze that surrounded them, reminding Elijah of where they were, of why he had kissed Samantha in the first place.
Slowly he pulled back, feeling the heat of her lips imprinted on his own.
As she blinked up at him with those mesmerizing green eyes, her fingers strayed to her lips to trace the path that his mouth had just traveled.
“I’ll go get you some food. Why don’t you stay here?” Truthfully, Elijah was relieved to have a moment to clear his thoughts.
Shit . That kiss had made his head spin . . .
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