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Her emotional and physical reactions were all over the map right now. She'd probably figured a way to rationalize her reaction, chalking it up to a temporary insanity that would retreat into nonexistence the moment she drove back down his driveway. If that was the case, he was going to have to make damn sure the experience was impossible to confine to this weekend.
"Are they trophies?"
The question was so soft, he almost missed it. Tyler tenderly cupped her face, brought those unsettling blue eyes back to his face. "No, angel. "
"Don't. . . Why do you call me that?"
"Because. " He leaned forward, his hand slipping up her back to unerringly trace the scar tissue of the design burned there, now concealed under the robe. "Someone drew you wings a long time ago and you've been trying to decide whether to fly away ever since. " His hand moved to her waist, up to cup her breast, his thumb toying idly with the nipple chain. "And because when I look at you, I think you're a gift from God. "
Before she could think too much about either explanation, Tyler directed her attention to her plate.
"Go ahead and eat. We're going to do a few less intense things this morning. At least that was my plan until you came in with other ideas. "
"I don't know why I did that. " She stared at her food, a flush rising on her cheeks.
"I do. " He put a fork in her hand, got his own plate and joined her at the table.
He enjoyed the way she examined the veggie protein links, picked one up, sniffed, raised her brows.
"Mac turned me on to them. You know, Violet's Mac?"
"He's a vegetarian? He looks like he eats raw meat for breakfast. " Tyler grinned. "That's an understatement. But yes, he's a vegetarian. I'm suffering from the typical high cholesterol of too much good living, so he's been giving me some tips. "
She ran an appraising eye over him, a Mistress's look, so much a part of her she was probably unaware of it, or how it made his blood heat. "You don't look like a person with high cholesterol. "
At the sudden flare of desire in his eyes, Marguerite quickly lowered her attention to her breakfast. Whole wheat toast spread with fresh blackberry preserves, a vegetable omelet sprinkled with Gouda cheese and cut tomatoes, three wedges of pink grapefruit arranged in a fan shape alongside and the protein links. He'd put it all on an aquamarine plate sitting on a linen placemat. A tiny bundle of wildflowers in a small water glass was the table centerpiece. Simple, pretty, everything placed for maximum aesthetic effect. She wondered if it came naturally to him or if it had been an attempt to please her. Both possibilities made an impression a
nd she wanted to look at him again, so she raised her lashes to do just that.
He was leaned back in the chair in the casual posture he seemed to favor, his leg straightened out so it flanked her, the other crooked. It drew her eyes to the part of him that she'd so recently had in her mouth, a nice curve of testicles, a cock of impressive shape and size. The view stayed as pleasing as her gaze rose, covering the well muscled chest and abdomen, the dark hair of his head gleaming with threads of silver at the temples. Those broad shoulders, long arms, the capable fingers holding the coffee cup to his lips, taking a sip as he watched her watching him. The shadow of a beard.
She'd had some beautiful men at her mercy and she'd appreciated that beauty.
Their smooth muscles and unscarred bodies, most not yet showing any of the effects of age and experience. But she couldn't tear her gaze away from Tyler's. He had scars.
Such as the one on his chest, a jagged cut near his abdomen. Another round scar just over his right pectoral. His hand rested on the table next to his plate, and now she tapped her finger on a small half-inch white ridge on one knuckle. "Where did you get that?"
"You just looked at every scar on me. If you ask about the one most likely to be a childhood scar, how am I going to impress you?" She cocked her head. "Do you want to impress me?" She had trouble swallowing her mouthful of eggs at the flash of teeth, at what a true, boyishly mischievous expression did to that face.
"I think I'm succeeding. " He ran a finger down her wrist, with a raised brow to tell her he registered her increased pulse. "You know why you're fascinated with me, when you've had so many pretty boys at your beck and call? Because you've never trusted yourself with a man. "
She withdrew her hand, lifted her cup of juice. "That's a very arrogant statement, assuming a great deal about me you don't know. " He circled her wrist with his hand when she put the cup back down, drawing her hand back out to the center of the table. "I'm a very arrogant man," he agreed. "Why don't you tell me more about yourself, then, so I don't make assumptions?"
"I'm eating. "
"So talk and eat. Have you thought about why you begged me to touch you earlier?
In your own sessions, you don't seem to think a sub needs to touch you to experience the fullest pleasure. "
When she pulled against him, he simply tightened his grip, holding her fast.
"I didn't beg," she said. Not exactly. "But even if I did, that's part of what it's about.
Denial increases pleasure and in order for denial to work that way, you have to be aroused to desperately want what you're being denied. "
"So if I'd been a better Master, I would have denied you. " She gave him a sweet look. "That's up to you. I would never presume to tell a Master what to do. "
"Smartass. " His teasing surprised her but then her tartness vanished as he leaned forward. Despite herself, her gaze was drawn to his mouth. To its inexorable progress toward her, until it hovered just above her lips. She couldn't form the words to remind herself of her rule, let alone him.
