Cutting Loose. Kristin Hardy

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      She sipped the wine and nodded, holding out her cup for more. She watched as he filled her glass. Sandy-brown hair, maybe, or blond, she thought, judging by the Vandyke and the light hairs on the back of his wrist. He had the long fingers and corded tendons of some artisan skilled with his hands, and he passed her the sake with a careless grace.

      Trish raised her eyes from her cup to his face. “And you, my lord? What would please you?”

      “Choosing just one thing would be the trick,” he said, rubbing his knuckles against his jaw. “And will you obey my command if I do?”

      Butterflies tickled her stomach. “A dominatrix serving the Marquis? It’s sort of like an irresistible force meeting an immovable object, isn’t it?”

      He considered. “Something of an impasse, it’s true.”

      “I suppose we could arm wrestle.”

      “Hardly seems fair to you.”

      “Don’t be too sure,” she disagreed. “All that whipping keeps me in shape.”

      His smile widened. “So I see. Maybe I’ll just settle for talking you into pouring me some sake and coming out on the deck.”

      She felt a little self-conscious as he watched her choose a cup and pour the wine, but there was pleasure in being the object of his attention. “Your drink, my lord,” she said, inclining her head.

      A corner of his mouth twitched as he took the cup she offered and clicked it against hers. “To unexpected pleasures.”

      Trish flushed. “Unexpected pleasures,” she echoed.

      Outside, the air was faintly cool with the first breath of fall. The dark water of the canal that ran along in front of Sabrina’s house reflected the stars. The trees glimmered with fairy lights, the same winking dots that outlined the curved stone bridges that crossed the water. “It doesn’t seem real. It’s like a little slice of Italy, isn’t it?” Trish leaned on the railing. “Only in L.A.”

      “Land of play-acting?” he asked, walking up to stand beside her.

      “Indeed.” He was taller than she was, Trish realized, even though she was wearing heels. She caught a whiff of something clean that might have been cologne, or perhaps just soap. Whatever it was, it smelled all male. Adrenaline sang in her veins. “And are you play-acting tonight, Marquis?”

      “No more than you. You wear it well, by the way. It almost looks real.”

      She sipped her sake and gave him an amused look. “Maybe it is.”

      “I don’t think so.”

      “Maybe I worked late and didn’t have time to change.”

      “So you came straight over here exhausted from all that whipping and getting your feet kissed?” Behind the mask, his eyes gleamed with humor. “Just lost track of time, did you?”

      “You know how it is,” Trish said flippantly. “When you love what you do, it doesn’t seem like work.”

      He studied her, his head tilted to one side, then shook it briskly. “Nope, don’t buy it. I don’t see you getting off on spanking some balding, overweight CEO.”

      “Ah, but that’s just it. You just don’t know, do you?” She propped a hand on the wide, wooden railing and slid the other down the curve of her waist. “’Neath this quiet exterior could lie the soul of a committed disciplinarian,” she said, riding the giddy rush of fun. Perhaps it was the anonymity of the mask that set her free. If she could see his whole face, he’d probably be the kind of good-looking guy who would make her freeze up. Dressed as he was, he was just a pair of hot eyes and a silky voice, a presence in the night. “Just wait until you’re in my clutches and don’t have a choice.”

      Immediately, he seemed much closer. “Oh? Am I going to be in your clutches tonight?”

      Her breathing tightened. “I suppose that’s up to you.” A beat went by.

      “Mmm. The Marquis de Sade as a submissive? No, there would be riots in S&M land.”

      Amusement bubbled up and quickly the tension evaporated. “You could tell them you’re finding your feminine side.”

      The Marquis laughed. “I’d prefer your feminine side.”

      It felt different, Trish realized abruptly. She wasn’t uncomfortable, she wasn’t tongue-tied. She wasn’t miserable and hoping she could leave. She was actually having fun.

      And she was turned on.

      “Does that mean you’re asking me to take you on as a client, after all?”

      “Brings us back to that irresistible force problem, doesn’t it?”

      “No dominatrix worth her salt would let a client wear a mask without her permission. Take it off so I can see your face, and then I’ll decide.”

      “You want me to take it off?” He set down his sake cup and raised one hand toward his face.

      Anticipation had her pulse thudding a little faster. “I like to know who I’m dealing with.”

      “That’s less about the looks and more about the person, isn’t it? Image shouldn’t be everything, even in L.A.”

      “That’s usually my line,” she said ruefully.

      He inclined his head. “Thanks for the loan.”

      “Still, it’s hardly fair that you get to see my face and I don’t get to see yours.”

      He chuckled softly. “Perhaps I have my reasons.”

      “You can always put it back on.” The urge to see his face was fast becoming a craving.

      He just drained his sake cup. “It’s a slippery slope, mistress. Some things cannot be undone.”

      “Coward,” she mocked him.

      A corner of his mouth tugged up in amusement and he glanced down at the flail that stuck out of his pocket. “Careful what you call a man who’s holding a whip.”

      Trish laughed. “Good point. In that case, can I get you some more sake, my lord?”

      “Only if you promise to continue our conversation when you return.”

      “It might be bad for my reputation if I follow your orders.” She didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay and bask in this new feeling.

      “Look at it as coincidence. What I want just happens to be what you feel like doing.” He reached out for her hand and brought it to his lips.

      It was the contrast that did it. Cool air, warm lips. Rough wood, soft skin. The touch of another where there hadn’t been one in so long. For an instant, it was as though every nerve in her body were centered in the small patch of skin over her knuckles and she could only absorb it. She thought more, and I want and don’t СКАЧАТЬ