with the silk framing her bosom like the work of art it was. The combination of ice pale pink and lily skin reminded him of mother of pearl on the inside of a shell, and he expected she would be as silky to the touch.
Maybe she'd even let him feed her with his own hand. Some of the soy sauce might slide off the glistening carrot and splash onto one of those breasts, and he'd have to put his tongue there and lick it off…
She glanced down his body, and her soft lips curved. "I guess Lisette was definitely wrong," she murmured.
Her gaze rose, and Josh saw the sly humor there. It alleviated some of his embarrassment, as he was sure she intended it to do. She was a kind woman, he could see it in her eyes, but her kindness was not of interest to him right now.
Hunger uncoiled low in his belly, and he picked up a carrot, daring to lift it toward her mouth.
"Stop."
He froze in mid-motion, and her steady blue eyes held his. "Ask me."
The warmth in her eyes contrasted with the coolness in her voice. That feeling in his belly spread, kicking up the pulse of blood through his thighs, the ache in his testicles. The way her lips formed the words, with just a hint of teeth, made him want to put his mouth on her, anywhere she wanted.
"May I feed you this?"
She nodded. "Since you ask so nicely."
He was wrong. She could be cruel, too, and he found it just as arousing as her kindness. Perhaps more, though that thought made him vastly uncomfortable with himself.
Page 26
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
He brought the carrot to her lips. They parted, and his eyes sparked to flame when her eyes fell half shut. He stroked the vegetable over her bottom lip, making it glisten with sauce. He laid the carrot on her tongue when she opened her mouth, and the pad of his finger slid along the small bumps of her taste buds, traced the enamel of her underbite, and then withdrew.
"How do you all feel about French vanilla scent?"
Josh turned to find Marcus at the kitchen counter, lining up a charming mismatch of pillar candles. He was lighting them, and four already cast soft light into the room.
Lauren straightened and turned, bringing her foot to the floor. The confidence she had possessed only a moment before now seemed to evaporate. "I'm sorry," she told Josh, surprising him. "I didn't mean—I'm not—trying to play with you."
"Of course you are," Marcus blew out the match. "That's what we do. Except Joshua. He's afraid of games. He's Joshua the Monk, ensorcelled by the fair—"
"Shut the fuck up, Marcus," Josh exploded. Lauren jumped. He pressed his lips together, shaking his head as if reproaching himself for the outburst, but he shot Marcus another dangerous look, regardless.
Then he knelt before her with an apologetic expression, firmly pushed her back in the cushioned chair and replaced her foot on its pedestal of pillows on the ottoman.
"—Winona." Marcus finished calmly, taking a pull from his beer and bringing the candles in on a tray. He placed them around the room, dimming the overhead so the room was bathed in soft light. "Do you give good massages, Lauren?"
She raised a brow. "I—"
"Josh has a muscle that knots in his shoulder when he gets nervous. It's quite painful. Will you tell him to sit down and have you work it out for him?"
"I am not nervous, I'm pissed off," Josh seized his wine glass up, but Lauren saw him flinch as the movement jarred his shoulder. She shook her head. She was being silly. They were all being silly.
"Come here," she leaned forward, taking the wine glass and placing it on the coffee table. "Come. Sit."
She took his long fingered, unsteady hand in hers and tugged. "Sit down on the ottoman next to my foot.
I'll work it out and then we'll eat."
"You don't need to do that," he grumbled, but when she tugged harder, he sat, presenting her with his back.
Lauren felt over the line of his shoulder and found the knot without difficulty. She had taken a
Maybe she'd even let him feed her with his own hand. Some of the soy sauce might slide off the glistening carrot and splash onto one of those breasts, and he'd have to put his tongue there and lick it off…
She glanced down his body, and her soft lips curved. "I guess Lisette was definitely wrong," she murmured.
Her gaze rose, and Josh saw the sly humor there. It alleviated some of his embarrassment, as he was sure she intended it to do. She was a kind woman, he could see it in her eyes, but her kindness was not of interest to him right now.
Hunger uncoiled low in his belly, and he picked up a carrot, daring to lift it toward her mouth.
"Stop."
He froze in mid-motion, and her steady blue eyes held his. "Ask me."
The warmth in her eyes contrasted with the coolness in her voice. That feeling in his belly spread, kicking up the pulse of blood through his thighs, the ache in his testicles. The way her lips formed the words, with just a hint of teeth, made him want to put his mouth on her, anywhere she wanted.
"May I feed you this?"
She nodded. "Since you ask so nicely."
He was wrong. She could be cruel, too, and he found it just as arousing as her kindness. Perhaps more, though that thought made him vastly uncomfortable with himself.
Page 26
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
He brought the carrot to her lips. They parted, and his eyes sparked to flame when her eyes fell half shut. He stroked the vegetable over her bottom lip, making it glisten with sauce. He laid the carrot on her tongue when she opened her mouth, and the pad of his finger slid along the small bumps of her taste buds, traced the enamel of her underbite, and then withdrew.
"How do you all feel about French vanilla scent?"
Josh turned to find Marcus at the kitchen counter, lining up a charming mismatch of pillar candles. He was lighting them, and four already cast soft light into the room.
Lauren straightened and turned, bringing her foot to the floor. The confidence she had possessed only a moment before now seemed to evaporate. "I'm sorry," she told Josh, surprising him. "I didn't mean—I'm not—trying to play with you."
"Of course you are," Marcus blew out the match. "That's what we do. Except Joshua. He's afraid of games. He's Joshua the Monk, ensorcelled by the fair—"
"Shut the fuck up, Marcus," Josh exploded. Lauren jumped. He pressed his lips together, shaking his head as if reproaching himself for the outburst, but he shot Marcus another dangerous look, regardless.
Then he knelt before her with an apologetic expression, firmly pushed her back in the cushioned chair and replaced her foot on its pedestal of pillows on the ottoman.
"—Winona." Marcus finished calmly, taking a pull from his beer and bringing the candles in on a tray. He placed them around the room, dimming the overhead so the room was bathed in soft light. "Do you give good massages, Lauren?"
She raised a brow. "I—"
"Josh has a muscle that knots in his shoulder when he gets nervous. It's quite painful. Will you tell him to sit down and have you work it out for him?"
"I am not nervous, I'm pissed off," Josh seized his wine glass up, but Lauren saw him flinch as the movement jarred his shoulder. She shook her head. She was being silly. They were all being silly.
"Come here," she leaned forward, taking the wine glass and placing it on the coffee table. "Come. Sit."
She took his long fingered, unsteady hand in hers and tugged. "Sit down on the ottoman next to my foot.
I'll work it out and then we'll eat."
"You don't need to do that," he grumbled, but when she tugged harder, he sat, presenting her with his back.
Lauren felt over the line of his shoulder and found the knot without difficulty. She had taken a
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