His hand moved. The whip cracked, a glorious sound that moved through her like a lightning bolt, searing and cleansing. The flick of the lash was flawless, coiling around the mannequin’s breast for a long moment and then slithering off to come back to Savage at his command. Her breath caught in her lungs. Burned in her core like a hot pool of molten lava. Savage turned his head, those blue eyes, flames burning over her as if he knew what just the sound of the whip had done to her.
Seychelle touched her tongue to her lips. “That was amazing. I can’t believe you can do that, Savage. Can I look closer?” She was already moving toward the mannequin, needing to see that precise cut he’d made in the paper. Had it pierced the material beneath?
Savage wrapped his arm around her waist. “I want you to look. These are my creations, my artistry. No one else is ever going to see them. Only you.”
A little shiver went down her spine as she stood in front of one of the mannequins that faced forward. The pattern was exquisite. The whip had coiled around the mannequin’s breast, adding to the pattern he was already making. It was a beautiful top of fringe. She could barely believe he could make such a thing with a whip.
Seychelle turned away, almost running back to the porch to snatch up her bra and tank. Her body was on fire. Weeping for his. Almost desperate. There was something really, really wrong with her to even think of going to such a dark place. If she did stay with Savage as she promised, she knew she would let him lead her straight to that whip. Fantasy was one thing, but reality was something altogether different.
She was terrified of those dark corners whispering to her in her own mind. She couldn’t let him lead her there. She fled into the house, only to find herself in the master bedroom. She looked around. It was beautiful, but again, she saw the metal rings in the posts. The drawers holding his toys. His lotions. Even the grotto had been built for a reason. This was a place for kink, for a way of life, and she was committing to living it with him.
She needed to go somewhere and really think about what she was doing before she took that next step. It wasn’t that she was afraid of Savage. She was more afraid of herself. Did she really want those things in her to come to light?
“Baby, stop.” Savage put a hand on her shoulder as she hurried down the hall toward the living room. “You’re running again. That seems to be your standard method of operation when you get scared.”
“I just need to think. Lana is picking me up. We’re meeting Doris and a couple of others for tea at the Floating Hat.”
“Think about what?” he prompted.
She wished she were in her own home. She felt trapped in his. He was everywhere. Savage. Her man. She wanted him so much, and he could sway her so easily. With his kisses. With his need of her. With the way she loved him. How could she think clearly?
“I just have to think. This is all so scary, Savage. I love you. It isn’t about that. It’s about me and whether or not I can still be me at the end of the day.”
“You’re not making any sense, baby.”
“I know I’m not.” Because she was panicking.
Savage put his arms around her. “Don’t run from us, Seychelle. We both knew it was going to get hard at some point, but we’re going to take it slow. We’ll only go as far as you want to go.”
That was the trouble. What if she wanted to go further than she should? She buried her face against his chest, conversely the only place she felt safe.
“Who else is meeting you at the Floating Hat?”
She knew he was changing the subject in order to give her space. “Eden Ravard is having tea with us as well. You remember her, right? I play cards at her home with Inez and a couple of the others when someone can’t make it. She had a seizure once.”
“Right, she’s a sweet woman.”
“I’m talking to Sabelia about teaching a few of us how to conjure up toads,” she added, just to make him smile.
“Great.” He raised his head and looked toward the door. “Lana’s here. You stay out of trouble, and think good thoughts about us, baby.” Cupping her chin in his palm, he took her mouth. His kiss was gentle. Loving. So tender he stole her heart and refused to give it back to her. She felt more lost than ever. More terrified.
EIGHTEEN
Seychelle loved the Floating Hat. It was difficult to feel sad or upset when you were there. First, the little bells welcoming anyone to the tearoom were all in the shape of hats, which seemed funny since it was a tea shop. One display window held delicious-looking pastries, all tempting people to enter and choose various exotic teas to go along with the decadent desserts. The other display window on the opposite side of the door held lotions and specialty bath items in various beautifully shaped bottles and jars.