Sarah's Surrender (Novella) Read Online Free PDF Page B

everything I say if you wish me to do as you desire. Trust me.”
    That was ironic, given how little trust he had of her. “I will try.” She opened her hand and held out the pin.
    His lips pressed together and she could tell her answer did not please him, but he did reach out and take the stickpin, placing it into his pocket. Then he pulled a deep breath into his chest, the linen of his shirt stretching tight. “If you want to do this you must learn to do as I say. It is the only way it will work—for both of us.”
    “But…”
    He glared and she shut her lips. She was not at all sure he was right. In fact, she was rather sure he was not, but she was determined in her plan. She nodded.
    “Good, now keep your hands on the tree. No matter what happens I do not want you to move.”
    Her mind raced. What if the party moved outside? Or even a single couple did? What if a bat flew in her hair? What if…?
    “What does it take to make you stop thinking?” he growled. “To stop worrying? You never used to be this way. Oh, never mind, I’ve a few ideas.”
    She could have told him that in the past she’d always had him to make her feel safe—and that was definitely no longer true, but she held her words back. This was not the time, and she was far too intrigued by the look in his eyes to wish to argue. “I will try.”
    “I will make sure you do.”
    His words could have been offensive, but instead they made her toes curl with want, with need. What was so different about him? Where had this sense of mastery come from? She found herself straightening her spine against the bark, her eyes looking into his, holding all the questions that did not spring from her lips.
    He smiled, only the slightest of one, but still most distinctly a smile. “You do learn quickly, my dear.”
    My dear.
She knew it was only a turn of phrase, but something in her warmed at his words, and at the look in his eyes. His moods might flit by faster than a bumblebee’s wings, but when he looked at her with passion it filled her entire being. And her heart told her there was more than passion in that gaze, that there was caring and affection as well. It had been years since she trusted her heart, but the temptation was great.
    His smile grew. “Now stay still; do not move a fraction of an inch.” His eyes studied her with care.
    Suddenly it was hard not to move, not to sway toward him, not to invite his touch, but she held firm, kept her back straight, her eyes steady.
    He lowered his gaze, and his eyes swept over her from head to toe, pausing, lingering at her full hips and then up to her breasts, straining against the torn fabric. He stopped there and considered. She could feel the weight of his gaze like a tangible thing. The silence between them grew.
    And still his eyes stayed focused, not moving.
    It was hard to breathe. She felt her bosom rise with each intake, felt the fabric of her gown slide against her, felt her breast swell toward him and then recede.
    She was going to go crazy. How could mere seconds stretch so long?
    She had to move. She had to say something. This could not continue.
    And he wasn’t even looking at her. Well, not at her eyes. How could she judge him when she could not read his glance?
    And then, just when she could take no more, he reached out and ran a single finger along the top of the lace. A thousand shivers took her.
    Still without meeting her eyes, he traced his finger back and forth over her flesh, slowly, sensuously. Now it was hard to swallow. His finger trailed back and forth, never moving from its path.
    Please touch me more. Please. Please,
her mind cried.
    But his finger never varied.
    “You should wear softer fabrics,” he said after a bit, his voice hardly rising above a whisper. “I am surprised this has not chafed your skin.”
    Her lips parted to answer, but what could she say?
I’d love to wear something else, something soft, something I chose. I can imagine nothing more wonderful than to not