Page 114 of Seduction Under the Southern Stars
“Which bit?”
I don’t reply, but I hold her gaze, and she blushes slowly.
“You’re so wicked,” she mumbles, leaning back as the attendant comes over with our lattes.
I chuckle. “How are you feeling this morning?” I ask once the attendant has returned to the kitchen area.
Elora sips her coffee. “I’m good,” she says softly. “Thank you.” She nibbles her bottom lip. Then she says, “I appreciate you taking it slowly, and being patient with me.”
“You’re very welcome.”
“Last night… was fun.”
“It definitely was.”
“Next time… I think we can up it to fifty percent.”
“Fifty? You’re getting adventurous now.” I smile, though, glad she feels comfortable enough to voice her desires, and a little bit turned on at the thought of what fifty percent might entail.
“You’re letting the tiger loose,” she teases. “I wonder whether you’ll be able to cope with her?”
“I can always tie her to the bed,” I say wryly.
Her eyes flare.
We study each other silently, then lean back as the flight attendant comes over with our bacon sandwiches and places them before us. Once she’s retreated, we both take a big bite of the bread, bacon, cheese, and chutney, and chew while we continue to look at each other.
She lifts a crumb from her lip and sucks it from her fingers. “You said there wouldn’t be any tying down of any kind.”
“That was before you made the fifty percent comment.” When I mentioned handcuffs, and she semi-freaked out, I felt a sweep of guilt, and scolded myself for even suggesting anything involving restraining her. Despite teasing her, I still wouldn’t do it, not in the short amount of time we have together. But I couldn’t help myself, because I saw the way her eyes lit up before, the same way they’re doing this time. She likes the idea of handing over control to a man in bed, now she’s able to dissociate it from her assault. And I’m so glad I’ve helped her move on that way.
She sips her coffee, her eyes still full of excitement. “Do you actually own handcuffs?”
“No. But ties or scarves could serve a purpose and are more innocuous. And I wouldn’t have to worry about losing the key.”
She giggles. Then she takes another bite, looking at me with mischievous thoughtfulness. “Do you tie down all your girls?”
“In my harem, you mean?”
“All the girls you’ve been with?”
“All four of them? No.”
“You’re kidding me—you’ve only been with four girls?”
“I told you, just because I have tattoos, it doesn’t mean I’m a manwhore.”
She looks genuinely surprised though. “But you’re young and gorgeous. It makes no sense.”
I finish my sandwich, lean back, coffee cup in hand, and just smile.
“So… the first was Mona, in Cairo,” she says. “Was the second Sophia?”
“Yes.”
“You lived together?”
“For six months.”
