to command and collar by cherise sinclair

She forced her legs forward, tasting blood from where she’d bitten her tongue. Yet she pushed herself on, across the empty side of the room, then toward the equipment. “Moores are not cowards.”īut they are sometimes. She’d frozen, unable to move until her furious and shamed father had dragged her out and yelled at her for being a coward. Screams and moans, cobwebs and skeletons. The taste in her mouth, the way her skin went cold-at age six, she’d gone in a Halloween haunted house. Hands fisted at her sides, she managed to get one foot to move, then the other. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, just watching. Her knees shook as she forced herself to continue. Look at everything,” he said in exactly the same tone as when he’d instructed her to do leg presses.Įvery fiber in her urged her to flee, but she took one step through the door. Ignoring the way she hung back, he opened the door and flipped on the overhead light, filling the area with brightness, erasing some of the menace. When he headed toward the south side of the house, her skin went cold. The foyer and great room, dining area and kitchen, TV room. He led her downstairs to areas she’d already seen. The corners of his eyes crinkled, but he didn’t speak, just ran his thumb over the moisture on her lower lip and then took her hand.

She stared at him, setting her hand over her quivering stomach. He pulled away as slowly as he’d advanced, his gaze still intent but…oh, so much warmer. He didn’t even try to push his tongue in, just led her, step by step, into responding to the kind of kisses she’d experienced as a girl, before French kissing had come along.

His palm was warm against her cheek, his knowledgeable mouth on hers, but nothing else touched her.

Gentle, teasing kisses from firm, velvety lips. Her mouth softened, and a tiny flicker of heat sparked to life low in her belly. A brush of his lips, a slide of his tongue on her lower lip followed by the nibble of teeth. A flutter like butterfly wings tickled in her chest, but she didn’t move. “Good.” His hand cupped her cheek, and gaze on hers, he lowered his head. To Command and Collar (Masters of the Shadowlands #6)(17)

To command and collar by cherise sinclair