Hi, all,
Debbie sent this in to me at work today. It's her favorite scene. She says she has lots of scenes she loves (and has the dog-eared pages to prove it), but that this scene always gets her. I'm betting you'll guess the book right away. Let's just hope this doesn't get me thrown off Blogger! LOL!
So Name Debbie's Favorite Scene...
It was then that she realized what he was about. It shocked her to her soul, drove the breath from her lungs, exited her beyond reason. "Nay,---! You cannae mean to ---!"
"Aye, I do." Warm fingers slowly spread the soap over her mound and outer folds, kneading it into her, the pressure sending tremors of delight through her belly.
"---, nay, 'tis indecent, and ...aah!" Her objection faded into a moan, and she found her hips lifting to meet his touch, shame forgotten.
"Hold still."
Those two words made her breath catch in her throat. Then she heard something swish in water.
The razor.
At the first sharp touch of the cold blade against her mound, she whimpered, as much fro arousal as from fear.
"Oh, please, ---, dinnae---!"
"Uist, a leannan! I willna hurt you." Brow furrowed, he slid the razor over her skin, one deft stroke after the next, pausing several times to rinse the blade in water.
'Twas like nothing ---- had ever felt before — the biting caress of the razor, the warm tingle that followed each stroke, the intimate touch of his hand as he held her for the the blade. Her fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs as she fought not to move, both afraid and unable to breathe. She saw the heavy rise and fall of his chest and the midnight blue of his eyes and knew that he was just as stirred to passion as she.
He set the razor aside, then lifted the bowl of hot water, spilling a gentle stream over her to rinse her, water splashing unheeded on the floorboards below.
"---!" The breath --- had been holding left her in a rush as the heat trickled over her vulnerable, sensitive flesh, flowing over her like the caress of hot silk. She closed her eyes, lost in the unimaginable pleasure.
Then she felt the brush of cool air.
And what happens next?
Clams — they're what's for breakfast!
Debbie sent this in to me at work today. It's her favorite scene. She says she has lots of scenes she loves (and has the dog-eared pages to prove it), but that this scene always gets her. I'm betting you'll guess the book right away. Let's just hope this doesn't get me thrown off Blogger! LOL!
So Name Debbie's Favorite Scene...
It was then that she realized what he was about. It shocked her to her soul, drove the breath from her lungs, exited her beyond reason. "Nay,---! You cannae mean to ---!"
"Aye, I do." Warm fingers slowly spread the soap over her mound and outer folds, kneading it into her, the pressure sending tremors of delight through her belly.
"---, nay, 'tis indecent, and ...aah!" Her objection faded into a moan, and she found her hips lifting to meet his touch, shame forgotten.
"Hold still."
Those two words made her breath catch in her throat. Then she heard something swish in water.
The razor.
At the first sharp touch of the cold blade against her mound, she whimpered, as much fro arousal as from fear.
"Oh, please, ---, dinnae---!"
"Uist, a leannan! I willna hurt you." Brow furrowed, he slid the razor over her skin, one deft stroke after the next, pausing several times to rinse the blade in water.
'Twas like nothing ---- had ever felt before — the biting caress of the razor, the warm tingle that followed each stroke, the intimate touch of his hand as he held her for the the blade. Her fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs as she fought not to move, both afraid and unable to breathe. She saw the heavy rise and fall of his chest and the midnight blue of his eyes and knew that he was just as stirred to passion as she.
He set the razor aside, then lifted the bowl of hot water, spilling a gentle stream over her to rinse her, water splashing unheeded on the floorboards below.
"---!" The breath --- had been holding left her in a rush as the heat trickled over her vulnerable, sensitive flesh, flowing over her like the caress of hot silk. She closed her eyes, lost in the unimaginable pleasure.
Then she felt the brush of cool air.
And what happens next?
Clams — they're what's for breakfast!