Page 12 of Savage Game
His hand was warm and huge. Using her arm as a leash he tugged her closer, his stunning blue gaze trapping her.
“Let me show you how to thank me properly.” His free hand slid to the back of her head. With him seated on the high bed and her standing before him, they were almost at eye level. He pulled her closer until they were chest to chest.
Although he wasn’t forceful, he didn’t allow her time to think either. His mouth brushed hers, and the fingers at the back of her head massaged her scalp. His lips were strong and sure just like him, and something unexplainable and irrevocable passed between them as she was trapped in the moment. Effortlessly, he coaxed a response from her, and she reciprocated every move of his mouth and each brush of his tongue.
When he broke the kiss, her mind had gone utterly blank. Deliberately, she uncurled her fists from his shirt and winced as she noticed the wrinkles she made in the fabric.
He didn’t speak but canted his head to the side and studied her. They both breathed deeply and a bit unevenly as if they had been exercising. Each deep inhalation brought her his warm amber scent. She stroked the creases she made in the shirt, the material between his chest and her fingers doing nothing to disguise the fact his skin was warm and his body hard.
He anchored her with his hands around her upper arms and slowly rose from the bed.
Maybe her brain was still muddled from the kiss, but she didn’t feel fear.
“Or maybe you’re just not that smart,” sneered the Liam voice in her head.
Mr. Nolan edged her away from the bed and steered her to the vanity.
Uncertain about his intentions, she lowered herself on the stool and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her gaze fell on the man behind her in the glass.
Carefully, he removed the scrunchy from the loose bun she used to keep her hair from getting wet. The long strands tumbled down over her shoulders like a waterfall. Far gentler than his huge hands should be capable of, he stroked over her head and ran his fingers through the tresses.
Giving in, her eyes drifted closed. His fingers were strong, and she wanted to moan out loud as she worked his fingertips over her scalp.
“I’m going to give you a reward, Kittycat.” He shifted behind her, and his warm breath brushed her ear. “Lean back.”
She complied and his hands kept moving over her head and shoulders, stroking and massaging. His strong fingers found every snag and kink, and worked relentlessly until she felt warm and fuzzy, and her mind had quieted.
She didn’t know how long he used his fingers on her scalp, but by the time he leaned forward to take the brush from the vanity table, she didn’t even flinch when his side stroked her shoulder.
Standing behind her, he worked the brush through her hair, making her very aware of his suit-covered body at her back. As he continued with long, slow strokes from her crown and down her spine, she timed her breathing to match the rhythmic caresses of the brush. She had trouble keeping her head straight as his skillful hands moved from section to section.
“Hmm, your hair is as long and lush as I imagined. I like running my hands through the strands. They feel like silk. And I love to smell Bvlgari’s Thé Bleu on you.”
“I like the hint of lavender and other flowers in it. Sometimes perfumes can be overpowering, but these scented body wash and shampoo are great.”
When he hummed and continued brushing her hair, she melted into a puddle of liquefied caramel—warm and malleable—and she wondered how her body stayed upright.
With slow, soothing motions he ran the brush through her hair, guiding the strands through his hands—the sound of the bristles running over her scalp distinct in the quiet of the room. For the first time in what seemed like forever, Charlotte let go of her worries and vigilance and relaxed into the moment.
Far too soon, but what must have been at least fifteen or twenty minutes later, he lay the brush aside, and she let out a sigh.
“Like that, huh?”
“Hmm, I do,” she replied dreamily. When she forced her eyes open and met his striking blue ones in the mirror, she added, “Very much, thank you.”
He smiled at her, bent, and pressed a kiss on top of her head. “You’re welcome.” Before she understood what was happening, he strode out of the bedroom in his distinctive uneven, prowling gait.
Charlotte sat at the vanity for a long time after the door snicked closed behind him. After his first kiss, he’d done nothing besides take care of her. Her Master hadn’t taken advantage or copped a feel. Unsure if his restraint relieved or disappointed her, Charlotte got ready for bed.
4
Day Four
The following morning, Charlotte woke with her heart in her throat and her hair plastered to her sweaty forehead. She couldn’t remember a bad dream, but she was as unsettled as after a nightmare.
With a groan, she pushed herself out of bed and headed into the lavish bathroom.
After dropping her sleep clothes on the marble countertop, she went into the walk-in shower and activated the lush water spray. Once the water was warm, she stood under the square showerhead and let the hot stream rain down on her. She allowed the pounding water to wash away the sweat and the stench of fear and let her mind wander back to last evening.
