the inside of her thighs. “Try to relax.”
He was doing things, saying things she had dreamed about for months. She could only hope that the words and deeds came from his heart. Her eyelashes fluttered as she closed her eyes. “Take a deep breath and exhale.” He entered her most private place, and stroked. His fingers were slippery from the moisture her body had made for him—wetness he was using to arouse her. “You will feel the pleasure build quickly, now.” She was aware of a delicate scent in the air—musky and primal. For an instant, she was a wild creature in the woods, thrusting up to greet her lover.
He stroked, adding pressure as he circled a place that made her cry, “Yes.” And, “More.” Her belly trembled and she thrust upward as he probed into her secret female places. Her hips grinding to the rhythm of his strokes. There was something clinical, yet tremendously exciting about Exeter’s detachment. A deliciously naughty connection moving back and forth between them. His stoicism had always intrigued her, for it was so perfectly Exeter. She could not help but wonder what this man might do, if and when he ever lost all control.
He taught her something of the anatomy of pleasure with his touch. Using his thumb, he stroked lightly and very fast, which made her moan.
He moved his finger lower and entered her woman’s passage, probing gently. “This ring of delicate membrane is your hymen. Lovely and pink. Virginal.”
She strained at the ties, which had grown taut and somewhat painful. Exeter stopped and slipped his hands under her bottom. He lifted her up and nudged her closer to the headboard. “More comfortable?”
“Much—thank you.”
He paused to look at her, brows slightly furrowed, signature frown. “I would never wish for this to be any young lady’s initiation to sexual relations.”
“Then make it better for me.” Mia looked at him. “I need you closer, Exeter.”
He returned a nonplussed, dumbfounded blink and promptly ignored her request. He applied himself to her swollen place—the magical spot that made her gasp and moan and cry out for more. Momentarily, all her thoughts returned to pleasure. Her cheeks burned from humiliation. She was asking for something he did not wish to give —himself. There was intimacy in closeness—lovers’ arms and limbs entwined, lips touching, tongues swirling. No doubt Exeter worried that he would lose control, and that such abandon could spell disaster. Or worse, he might begin to feel something.
As if he sensed her heartache, he lowered himself over her torso and locked into her gaze. Dark, gleaming hair, nearly shoulder length, fell forward. His eyes dropped to her mouth as he leaned closer. “You want me to kiss you.” His breath warmed her lips.
She nodded. “Very much.”
He brushed soft, pliant, kisses over her mouth and pressed her lips open. “Give me something deeper, love.” He used his tongue to swirl and mate with hers. A tight, urgent heat spread from her lips through her body to that place—the small spot that created so much desire. A pleasurable tension was rising inside—taking her to a place of exquisite, nearly unbearable sensation. His fingers plucked at her clitoris, and she moaned as if she were a taut string on a cello. “Exeter . . .” She murmured.
“Your eyes are dilated, Mia—flashes of green warn me to stay vigilant.” Words spoken between harsh, shallow breaths. Could Exeter be aroused? She wanted him to be.
“The notes say we must tempt the tiger—get her close.” She exhaled her answer against his cheek. “Kiss me again, Exeter. Wrap your arms around me, please—”
This time he took complete possession of her mouth. His tongue reached deep and filled her up, his sensuous lips roamed over hers. “Good God, Mia—you have bewitched me.”
“Harder. Bite me.” He caught her bottom lip with his teeth and drew blood. She bit him in return, and she felt the cat inside stir. They were tempting her, plenty.
“Let go for me, darling.” Then he added forcefully, “But don’t leave me—ever.” His fingers returned to her clitoris and stroked faster as ecstasy swelled inside her. Pleasure that demanded to arrive.
She lifted her head and roared. “Don’t stop!”
He positioned himself directly overhead, as tears came to her eyes. “You are going to climax soon. Look at me, Mia.” With his free hand he tilted her chin. “Stay with me, love.” Even as his fingers danced and circled, pleasure broke inside her—pleasure she might die of—–another wave of pleasure—and then suddenly, without warning the cat inside was loose.
Or at least partially so—for the panther was also constrained. Mia tugged at her bindings even as her snout elongated and her fangs materialized. For some inexplicable reason she lashed out at Exeter. Liquid crimson dripped down his neck.
She heard him call to her, faintly. “Come back to me.” Slowly, the wild thing inside relented and Mia was back—body and soul. Every cell in her body vibrated with pleasure—wave after wave of euphoria, until she fell into a state of insensibility. “That’s it—very good, Mia, stay with me.” His reassuring voice was near, coaxing her return to him.
Mia blinked and she was in her bedroom again, and there was Exeter, poised over her. Her heavy eyelids closed and she drifted off to sleep. She was not sure how long she remained in a partial stupor, drained, euphoric, incapacitated from her climax, but at some point—whether it was seconds or minutes—she reopened her eyes.
Exeter sat back on his haunches, with his hand to his throat. Blood ran down the side of his neck. Alarmed, Mia sat up, only to be yanked back. Bother! Her hands remained bound to the bedposts. “Did I hurt you, Exeter?”
“I’m fine—it’s just a scratch.” She was quite sure he forced a grin to reassure her. “Some sharp fangs you’ve got there, young lady.”
“Sorry.” She made eye contact with the man who had just . . . “So much happening at once, I could hardly . . .” Mia shook her head in wonder. “Exeter, it was so . . . there aren’t words to describe it.” She lay back and smiled rather provocatively. It must have been alluring, because Exeter returned her flirtatious gaze—not with his usual overprotective mentoring look, but with eyes that smoldered—something that caused a shiver of delight to run through her. And he appeared charmed—could that small smile signify . . . a touch of surrender?
Another shiver ran through her—this time from the chill in the air. She was beginning to feel herself again. “Before we discuss the wonders and side benefits of this new therapy, might you untie me, sir?”
Exeter reached for a bedpost, and then hesitated. “On second thought, I like you tethered—where I can keep an eye on you.” He climbed out of bed and poked up the fire, adding more coals.
Was Exeter teasing? Perhaps even flirting with her? Mia narrowed her eyes. “And to think I was about to compliment your mentoring. Now you’ve saved me the trouble.”
He circled the bed and unwrapped her bindings, taking time with each arm to massage her wrists and circulate blood back into her fingers. His hands were large, with elegant tapered fingers. Those lovely digits had sent her to paradise this evening. She looked up into laughing eyes—as though he could read her mind. “You were about to tell me what a pleasurable experience you had under my tutelage . . .”
She turned her hand within his and pulled him near. He sat down beside her so she could trace the dark red scratch along his neck. “Rather vicious of me—or her—to lure you in so close.”
The ends of Exeter’s mouth twitched upward again. “And my reward for braving the black panther for a kiss?”
Her finger moved from his neck to his upper lip, to the cut she had made from her bite. Mia gently kissed his lower lip. “Pay us no mind next time.”
Exeter, in turn, passed his thumb over her swollen bottom lip—the one that displayed his mark. “You need a tincture for this scratch and some ice from the cold closet.” He reached for his medical bag.
Mia sprang out of bed and opened her wardrobe. “Since we both need tending—shall we visit the kitchen together? If there’s an ember left in the stove, I’d like to heat some milk—for hot chocolate.” She was not unaware of Exeter’s gaze as she pulled on her dressing gown with a chinois motif. “Come.” She tugged on his medical bag. “And you shall have a dash of creme de menthe in yours.”
In the kitchen, Exeter lifted her up by the waist and sat her down on top of the long kitchen worktable. He unwrapped a clean piece of gauze and dropped a number of ice chips into the cloth. “Place this on your lip—put a bit of pressure on it.”
Mia held the cold, soothing compress and watched Exeter pour milk into a saucepan and leave it to heat on
