disappeared through the swinging door, the only thing that was capable of getting every woman‟s mind off his tight ass and back to whatever it was they‟d forgotten they were talking about.
“Oh dear.” Mrs. Dupont leaned over. “Chloe, I think I‟ve dumped some tea on the floor, and my napkin doesn‟t seem to be picking it up.”
Choe squatted, her always available washcloth pulled from her apron pocket. She stopped in mid-motion, however, her gaze riveting not on the small, brandy-colored puddle, but a dried, older stain.
It was a small smear, one that would be missed except at this time of day, when the sun was coming in at just the right angle. It might not even be a stain. It could be a discoloration of the wood that the sunlight turned into the memory of blood. Her blood.
Biting down on her lip hard enough to create more of it, she wiped up the tea.
* * * * *
When they reached the Jeep, Brendan stopped before the passenger door. Rather than opening it, he turned her toward him with a touch on her shoulder. With a quick meeting of eyes to confirm she had no immediate objections, he slid the mask over her head. She peered at him through the eye holes, not sure how to react. He didn‟t seem like he needed a response from her, however. He was occupied with settling the mask on her nose in a comfortable, surprisingly snug fit. When he at last stepped back, he gestured to the side mirror. As she checked herself out, she saw the mask made her eyes look feline, the painted lashes adding an exotic, mysterious flavor to them. Her curly, short hair fluffed around it, giving the cat‟s face a whimsical, very feminine flavor.
She looked toward him, and knew her lips had curved in a pleased smile when his eyes warmed. “Beautiful,” he said, with satisfaction, and she couldn‟t help but agree.
The half mask left her cheeks, lips and chin bare, making them much more sensitive to touch when he brushed his fingertips across her lips. As he traced the skin below the mask edge, over her cheekbones, her lips parted. Easing his fingers into her mouth, he touched her tongue, the secret moistness within her bottom lip.
“Now you can be whoever you want to be.” He spoke in that voice that seemed designed to elicit total trust and enable seduction at once. “While you wear that, you‟re a mysterious, gorgeous creature who can do anything she wants to do and it‟s okay, because tonight she‟s a mystery to herself as well. She‟s going to be the side of herself she doesn‟t know, not the side she does.”
With any other guy, she‟d have thought it was a way to get her to be what he wanted, relieve him of the burden of another night of dealing with her personal demons. It would have hurt, but she wouldn‟t have blamed him in the slightest. But when she looked up at him from behind that form fitting mask that already felt like part of who she was in this exact minute, she knew he didn‟t have that kind of duplicity.
There was something about him so centered on what she was feeling and wanting, it was a part of him too. What she couldn‟t give herself but wanted to, he did. Totally crazy but totally fine.
She‟d never been with a male with this kind of sexual and romantic confidence. He was unreal, but also so real he made her ache in every place a woman ached when she saw the epitome of what she wanted, needed, desired, even before she knew how to name it.
She lifted her hand, closed it on his wrist, stilling him. They stayed that way for another long minute, her staring at him, him holding her gaze with all the reverence of a worshipper come to the shrine of a goddess. Of a sudden, she felt clean and…not powerful, that wasn‟t exactly the right word. Grounded. She felt grounded, for this brief, all important moment.
She guided his finger into her mouth, tasted him. Bit down a little. Then harder. His hazel eyes heated, the sensual mouth curved, and she felt his response, his need reach toward her in that
“Oh dear.” Mrs. Dupont leaned over. “Chloe, I think I‟ve dumped some tea on the floor, and my napkin doesn‟t seem to be picking it up.”
Choe squatted, her always available washcloth pulled from her apron pocket. She stopped in mid-motion, however, her gaze riveting not on the small, brandy-colored puddle, but a dried, older stain.
It was a small smear, one that would be missed except at this time of day, when the sun was coming in at just the right angle. It might not even be a stain. It could be a discoloration of the wood that the sunlight turned into the memory of blood. Her blood.
Biting down on her lip hard enough to create more of it, she wiped up the tea.
* * * * *
When they reached the Jeep, Brendan stopped before the passenger door. Rather than opening it, he turned her toward him with a touch on her shoulder. With a quick meeting of eyes to confirm she had no immediate objections, he slid the mask over her head. She peered at him through the eye holes, not sure how to react. He didn‟t seem like he needed a response from her, however. He was occupied with settling the mask on her nose in a comfortable, surprisingly snug fit. When he at last stepped back, he gestured to the side mirror. As she checked herself out, she saw the mask made her eyes look feline, the painted lashes adding an exotic, mysterious flavor to them. Her curly, short hair fluffed around it, giving the cat‟s face a whimsical, very feminine flavor.
She looked toward him, and knew her lips had curved in a pleased smile when his eyes warmed. “Beautiful,” he said, with satisfaction, and she couldn‟t help but agree.
The half mask left her cheeks, lips and chin bare, making them much more sensitive to touch when he brushed his fingertips across her lips. As he traced the skin below the mask edge, over her cheekbones, her lips parted. Easing his fingers into her mouth, he touched her tongue, the secret moistness within her bottom lip.
“Now you can be whoever you want to be.” He spoke in that voice that seemed designed to elicit total trust and enable seduction at once. “While you wear that, you‟re a mysterious, gorgeous creature who can do anything she wants to do and it‟s okay, because tonight she‟s a mystery to herself as well. She‟s going to be the side of herself she doesn‟t know, not the side she does.”
With any other guy, she‟d have thought it was a way to get her to be what he wanted, relieve him of the burden of another night of dealing with her personal demons. It would have hurt, but she wouldn‟t have blamed him in the slightest. But when she looked up at him from behind that form fitting mask that already felt like part of who she was in this exact minute, she knew he didn‟t have that kind of duplicity.
There was something about him so centered on what she was feeling and wanting, it was a part of him too. What she couldn‟t give herself but wanted to, he did. Totally crazy but totally fine.
She‟d never been with a male with this kind of sexual and romantic confidence. He was unreal, but also so real he made her ache in every place a woman ached when she saw the epitome of what she wanted, needed, desired, even before she knew how to name it.
She lifted her hand, closed it on his wrist, stilling him. They stayed that way for another long minute, her staring at him, him holding her gaze with all the reverence of a worshipper come to the shrine of a goddess. Of a sudden, she felt clean and…not powerful, that wasn‟t exactly the right word. Grounded. She felt grounded, for this brief, all important moment.
She guided his finger into her mouth, tasted him. Bit down a little. Then harder. His hazel eyes heated, the sensual mouth curved, and she felt his response, his need reach toward her in that
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