“This is a private party of that sort.” He ran a hand up and down her back. “Daralyn, what you and I have been doing…exploring. A lot of it has to do with that. I don’t know if you realize that. I didn’t really, until I did, if that makes sense. And then Marcus…”
He bit that off, but she nodded. “That makes sense, talking to Marcus. Since he and Thomas are that way.”
He tipped up her chin, his eyes on hers. “You knew that? How did you know that?”
She colored a little, but was glad he was aware. She wasn’t forced to choose between Thomas and Marcus’s privacy and answering his question. “I clean their house, share meals with them. I’m around them…a lot, and I’ve noticed things.”
Things that had clicked into place when she heard Julie discuss the structure of a Dom/sub relationship.
“They don’t do things in front of you.” He shot her an ominous look, which she was hasty to answer.
“No, of course not. It’s just…it’s there. Like finding something because you know where to look.”
His eyes flickered, and he slid his fingers along her cheek, then down to her throat, her collarbone. As he stroked, the pressure of his fingers had her chin lifting, her breath shortening. He watched every reaction passing over her face, and his lips curved in a sensual way that sent butterflies through her lower belly. “Yeah. I can see that. You’re always surprising me, you know that?”
Before she could answer, he kissed her again, in his wonderfully lingering way, his mouth playing over hers, stroking, caressing. She leaned into it, her own breath feathering out. He’d never kissed her with his hand still around her throat. As he increased the grip, a tiny noise came from her. He drew back, their eyes still so close. “You like that. I can tell. When I collar you with my hand. Hold you still in my palm.”
She didn’t have to speak, because he saw the answer. “We’ll go to that party,” he said. “It might give us other good ideas to explore.”
He released her with a playful smile the right side of dangerous, but brought her back close to his side, letting her rest her head on his chest again. He slid his touch down to the curve of her hip, fingers stroking her buttock.
“Will it be lots of people?” she asked after another pause.
“Marcus said it’d be a few dozen couples, spread out on the grounds of this big plantation house.” He squeezed her. “We’re not going to do anything you don’t want to do. If you’re worried about how to tell me that, don’t. I’ll be paying attention, so I’ll know what those things are, even if you don’t tell me. I expect we’ll mostly be watching. I’m learning about this stuff, too.”
But images kept swirling in her head, strong ones. The chain around her wrist, the way Rory took her over…the bite of the hammock ropes against her legs. She wanted to go. She opened her mouth to say it, but nothing came out.
That was okay. He’d said they were going.
“So,” he said, after another few minutes of gently rocking in the hammock, listening to the breeze and the birds. “That book you brought. How about you read it to me? Does it have pictures?”
She smiled. “It doesn’t. But the words create some pretty powerful ones.”
“Words will do that.”
Chapter Thirteen
His diligent care of the wound had done its job. The threat of a fever vanished, and by the time the day to leave for Florida came, the possibility that they’d have to cancel their trip had passed. The stitches had only recently been removed, meaning he’d still have to take extra care with the area, but he could handle that.
So here they were, Daralyn in the passenger seat of his van, on a sunny day perfect for traveling and adventure.
She’d brought books she could read to him, and snacks. They’d made a stop at the roadside stand of a Gullah basket weaver outside Charleston, because his mother had asked them to buy her a couple baskets. Then on to Georgia, where he pulled off at Huerta’s, a produce place Mrs. Beatrice had recommended from her frequent trips to Florida to see her daughter.
The proprietors also operated the landscaping business next door, which included retail plant sales and a veritable field of lawn ornamentation. As Rory talked to Huerta, a fellow family businessman whose employees were his wife and adult kids, he