“I haven’t done much in the house, Sevastyan,” she admitted, rubbing her chin on his forearm. “I just am not the best interior designer. I’ve been considering bringing various plants into the house. We’ve got the room. The ceilings are extremely high and the lighting is perfect. It’s good for the air. You’ve already got a few, but I think we could use more.”
There was a little anxious note in her voice that surprised him. She still wasn’t sure of herself when it came to ascertaining ownership with him.
“Babe, I told you to do whatever makes you happy. This is your home too. I put a ring on your finger. That’s what I cared about and you let me. I get all the sex I want, when I want, how I want. Our outdoor property is amazing. My woman is gorgeous and she indulges me.”
“She can’t cook.”
“You cook.”
She burst out laughing. “Is that what you call it? Honey, your cooking is a million times better than mine.”
“I heat up what the chef leaves us.”
“I burned up what the chef left us the last three times.”
He kissed the top of her head, wrapping his arms more securely around her. “That may have had something to do with you being tied up in ropes.”
“But I forgot to tell you I had something in the oven. I was a little too enthusiastic. What if I’d burned down the house?”
“The smoke alarms did their job.” Amusement burst through him the way it did most of the time now when he was with her. Or maybe it was pure joy. He couldn’t remember wanting to laugh before; now, it seemed, he was happy more often than not, and he attributed that to the woman who had taught him how to have fun.
“I suppose they did.”
“And you haven’t made the same mistake again since I tied you so beautifully in the corner of the kitchen, facing the stove . . .”
“And the window,” she groused, “telling me I was to learn my lesson.”
“Red rope again,” he pointed out. “Beautiful diamond pattern, the harness framed your incredible breasts. I’m very fond of your breasts.”
“As I recall, you spent time playing when you were supposed to be working,” she pointed out, pretending to be pouting.
“That’s only because you’re such a temptation.” There was no remorse. “I want to tie you in the garden tonight with the full moon shining down on your red hair.” He swept his hand through it. “It might take a little time for what I’ve got in mind, but it will be beautiful. It will leave marks on your skin, but nowhere you can’t cover up and only for a couple of days. It’s the kind of tie that will make me wild and very out of control for you. I’m just going to warn you, baby. I’m going to play for a while and tease you until you catch up with me and then I’m fucking you hard. You up for that?”
Her hand went up to his wrist and then rubbed up his arm. “I’m always up for that, Sevastyan.”
He could practically hear her purr.
“After, we’ll have to let the leopards out. Shturm can’t go without Flamme any longer than I can go without you. If I deprive him, he gets edgy and moody.”
She burst out laughing. “Believe me, Sevastyan, I’m well aware.”
He turned her in his arms and found her mouth with his. Gently. Tenderly. Loving her. Giving her that because once they walked out to their garden of paradise, he knew it was going to be hot, wild and savage, the way they both could get when they showed each other their feral side.
He lifted his head and cupped the side of her face, looking down into her eyes. “You know I love you. No matter how we come together, Flambé, you know I love you, right? You’re my world.”
She leaned into him, tilting her head back, her gaze meeting his steadily. “I know you love me, Sevastyan. I love you more than you could possibly know. I love when we’re wild and crazy and I love when we’re gentle now. Before, that was what scared me, because I could feel the emotion. Now I feel the love no matter how we come together.”
He bent his head and took her mouth again. This time he wasn’t quite as gentle.
Keep reading for an excerpt from
RECKLESS ROAD
The next novel in the Torpedo Ink series
by Christine Feehan
Available February 2021 from Jove