If You Could Read My Mind

by Jeanie London

  “I didn’t ask you, did I?” Serafine sniffed. “And what’s wrong with some good old Southern hospitality? Do unto others and all that.”

  Raphael’s smirk irritated Serafine more than any answer might have.

  “Pshaw, boy. Pay attention to your own business.”

  “What happens around Camp Cavelier is my business.”

  “Well, well. You seem to be settling in right comfy here, and your kin, too. Would think you’d want the owners of this place to be happy all the way around. Especially when they’re proving so easy to work for.”

  “I do.”

  “Then what’s the trouble?”

  He shrugged. “Just doesn’t feel right leaving.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Maybe because the Landrys aren’t around much. Maybe because we’re the ones here all the time, it feels like we’re abandoning things.”

  Serafine considered that. “I hear you, boy. You care, so you want to make sure things are cared for right.”

  “Yeah, guess so. I like Mrs. Jillian and Dr. Michael well enough, but they don’t know that Ike is struggling to keep that sow feeding her runty piglet. They don’t know to run the water clear before drinking because we just dug a new line.”

  “This place feels like home already, doesn’t it?” She patted Raphael on the back and smiled what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “You should leave the Landrys a note with good instructions. They’ll do what you ask. They care about this place, too, even if they don’t have enough time to run it proper. They’re doing a fair share by paying the bills and hiring us, don’t you think?”

  He considered that and finally nodded. “All right, Widow. We’ll clear out for the weekend and invite Ike. I’ll leave a note.” Then he headed back inside.

  “Sleep well, boy,” she said.

  “You, too.”

  Serafine would sleep like a baby because Virginie’s brood was settling in better than she had a right to hope. Raphael cared so much it sounded as if he owned the camp…. Serafine smiled into the night.

  Now there was an idea.

  Several days later…

  ONE FANTASY NIGHT on a motorcycle and some steamy foreplay in a dark theater had changed something fundamental between Jillian and Michael. He’d changed the rules of their relationship and, as a result, she wasn’t sure what to expect from him. A certain sense of breathlessness crept into her days, as if she stood always poised on the edge waiting to see what he would do next. He’d been attentive and loving, but there’d been no hint of leather. No motorcycle.

  And no sex in sight.

  Or any mention of anything real.

  Not their conflict over Camp Cavelier. Not any curiosity about her doctors’ appointments.

  Jillian tamped down her impatience, reasoning that Michael’s fantasy plan would bring them closer and they’d ultimately get around to dealing with reality. She only had to be patient, to keep her thoughts focused on the efforts he made to improve their relationship and not on everything he wasn’t doing. She couldn’t allow these unresolved issues to gain momentum in her mind because she’d wind up resentful.

  True, reality should rank above fantasy, and she was hurt that he hadn’t asked anything about how things were going with her doctors’ visits. But as she had chosen not to inform him of the problem, she could only fault him for inattentiveness.

  Michael had said she needed to trust him, which meant trusting they’d eventually get around to the real stuff. When they did, she figured they’d be all the more ready to tackle the problems. She kept reminding herself of that whenever her impatience got the better of her.

  And, fortunately, Michael’s sexy games to build tension had proven a delightful distraction all weekend.

  A titillating distraction that followed them from home to the clinic….

  After escorting the day’s first patients into exam rooms, Michael surprised her in the hallway. Clamping a hand over her mouth, he cut off any protest and crowded her into his office.

  “What are you doing?” she asked when he finally let her go to flip the lock on the door.

  Rounding on her, he captured her gaze with a bold stare, but didn’t say a word, just eyed her as if anticipating the first bite of Widow Serafine’s gumbo.

  “Michael?”

  “Trust me,” was all he said, and before Jillian realized what he was about, he slid his hands beneath her smock.

  Surprised, she instinctively pulled away, and her heart began to pound double-time.

  “Shh,” was all he said as he caught the clasp on her bra and snapped it open. Her breasts spilled into his hands.

  “You want to make love? Now?”

  She’d just seated three patients. If he didn’t make an appearance in those exam rooms soon, his day would be completely fouled up before it even started.

  “I always want to make love to you, Jilly. But I’m afraid we don’t have time right now. I’ve got patients waiting.”

  “Then what are you—” She broke off sharply when he fished out a long silver chain from his lab coat pocket.

  “Michael, what is that?”

  He held up the chain for her perusal. It wasn’t much of a stretch to put the padded clamps and her bare breasts together.

  “Are those nipple clamps?”

  He nodded.

  She did not want to know where he’d gotten this sex toy. Just the thought of him shopping in one of Natchez’s adult stores was enough to make her break a sweat. His SUV wasn’t exactly nondescript with all its Mississippi Pride paraphernalia and tag that read: SMLE DR.

  So she didn’t ask, only watched, strangely fascinated as he tested a clamp. “Michael, are you expecting me to wear those?”

  That answer was painfully obvious, and he must have recognized her rising disbelief because he slipped an arm around her waist and locked her against him.

  “I’m going to make sure you’re thinking about me this morning.” His gaze twinkled, deep-blue lights that shone with his amusement, his arousal. “We’re building tension, remember?”

  “Does that mean you can wear them, too?”

  His grimace made her laugh.

  “You can dish it out, but you can’t take it, can you, Michael?”

  “Sure I can.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “We will.” Catching her nipple, he rolled it between his thumb and forefinger suggestively. Jillian gasped as every muscle in her body gathered tight in response to his touch.

  His expression softened around the edges with that look he always got when they made love, right before he sank deep inside her, as if there was no place in the world he’d rather be. And beneath his knowing look she grew flustered. It was more than giddy, more than arousal. This was a feeling she remembered from long ago, a feeling that Michael believed she was his dream come true and the realization both pleased and awed him.

  It pleased and awed her, too.

  He was so intent on his sexy ministrations, rolling and squeezing her nipple until he could maneuver the padded clamp onto her aroused skin, that she grew unaccountably self-conscious, almost shy. Especially when he met her gaze, and eased the clamp shut.

  Jillian held her breath, not surprised by his gentleness, but very surprised by the white heat that bolted through her. She sucked in a breath that shuddered raggedly between them.

  “How’s that feel?” he asked.

  She just nodded.

  “It’s not too tight, is it? I don’t want you to get numb. Sort of defeats the purpose.”

  Just when had he become an authority on sex toys?

  “It’s okay,” she managed to say.

  But the feeling was much more than okay. Sensation blasted through her, coiling deep inside and flooding between her thighs so intensely that she could barely breathe.

  That seemed to content Michael because no sooner did he let go of one clamp than he started up the process again with the other. Only this time Jillian sank back against the wall as he teased
her nipple to life, suddenly so weak in the knees that she could hardly stand.

  Did he really expect her to work like this?

  Apparently so. He worked her nipple with more concentration than she’d ever seen him focus on a root canal. He teased and tugged until her nipple was swollen and erect. She’d had no clue he’d come up with sex toys to increase the tension. Then again, after the handcuffs and leather, she should have.

  He applied the second clamp, the chain dangling between her bare breasts, only this time she had to bite her lip to keep from gasping. Sensation poured through her, so incredibly powerful, so deliciously decadent that she could only arch against the wall for support and hang on.

  “That feels good?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” It was really all she could manage. Sensation wound through her, making it difficult to concentrate on anything but the heat. And when Michael gave a light tug on the chain dangling between her bare breasts, he started up a chain reaction that left Jillian’s sex clenching so hard that she thought she might climax on the spot.

  “Looks like you feel really good.”

  There was an understatement, but Jillian couldn’t get the words out. She didn’t have to, though. Michael already knew and stood leering down at her while enjoying the show.

  He gave another tug on the chain, this time slower, longer, harder, until her nipples stretched, and her whole body answered. And to her amazement, Jillian did climax, right then and there, not a full-blown explosion, but a delicate sprinkling of sensation that left her gasping for air and the chain dangling wildly between her bare breasts.

  Michael laughed. “Oh, I’m going to like this, Jilly. I’m going to like this a lot.”

  If Jillian could have spoken, she would have said, “Me, too.”

  Later that week…

  MICHAEL PUT the finishing touches on another fantasy invitation. He set the printer into action then watched with satisfaction as his latest creation sprang forth in full color.

  He’d doctored a promotional photo of the camp’s Lake Lily to read:

  You are cordially invited for a weekend fantasy getaway at Camp Cavelier.

  Michael had a fond memory of skinny-dipping in that lake and hoped the reminder would inspire Jillian to more sexy adventures. Around dealing with the farm chores, they’d still have three nights and days to explore another fantasy.

  The nipple clamps had been a big hit.

  Michael had decided on cowboy gear this time. Chaps and lassoes sounded much more romantic than boots and gloves, though they would be playing farmhands to give Ike the weekend off. Jillian wouldn’t mind. Not even mucking stables had ever dampened her enthusiasm for the outdoors.

  Michael wasn’t so enthusiastic about that part of the fantasy, but he’d survive. If he survived until the weekend, of course. Upping the tension was proving a mixed bag. As was getting back into shape again, which had given him a surplus of energy. Combined with the dreamy look on Jillian’s face every time he’d cornered her alone to surprise her with some new sexy gizmo, he’d been walking around just shy of hard since Monday.

  He’d hoped to cut his daily swim short and lock himself inside his office to make this invitation. But that hadn’t happened as he’d also needed a long stint in the cold water to calm his raging libido.

  So, he wound up ducking out on a patient while Charlotte prepared a temporary crown.

  Pleased with his effort, he folded the card, slid it inside an envelope and was about to go off in search of his wife when a knock on the door sounded. He swung it wide to find Jillian.

  “I was just coming to look for—”

  He didn’t get another word out before Jillian brushed full against him and crowded him back inside his office. She kicked the door shut behind her and flipped the lock.

  “Since you already left your patient stranded in your chair, I figured you wouldn’t mind me taking a few minutes of your time.”

  “My time is all yours, my beautiful bride.”

  When she flashed a high-beam smile, he knew his response was exactly what she’d been hoping to hear.

  Reaching for his hand, she pulled him closer. “I want to give you something to build the tension.” With that she guided his hand under her smock then inside the waistband of her pants.

  With her hand as a guide, he found his fingers grazing a smooth sweep of warm skin…down, down, down. “Jillian, you aren’t wearing any panties.”

  A challenge blazed like amber fire in her eyes. She shook her head slowly. “No panties.”

  His fingers rounded the soft mound of her neatly shaved sex. He forged ahead even farther and moist, hot skin yielded beneath his touch.

  Jillian shivered.

  “And you’re cleanly shaven, too.”

  “Very cleanly.”

  Now he shivered, all effects of a cold swim vanishing as his body went on red alert. “This is torture, you know?”

  “I know.” Pressing his hand to hold it still, she rocked her hips suggestively. “For both of us.”

  You deserve to be tortured after what you’ve done to me. Monday—nipple clamps. Tuesday—a personal vibrator, and today…mmm, the stimulator spheres.

  Well, even if Michael could have admitted to hearing her thoughts, he couldn’t exactly argue the point now, could he?

  He shimmied his hand around and found the string to the modified ben-wa balls set that he’d gifted her with earlier. “I wondered if you’d take these out when I went to swim.”

  “You asked me not to.”

  “Yes, I did.” Catching a finger around the dangling string, he tugged lightly, smiled when her expression softened and she melted against him.

  “Oh.” She sucked in the sound on a deep inhalation.

  “Aroused?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  His crotch gave a warning throb. He wanted her. He wanted to forget all about building tension and shaking up their relationship…. He forced one hand from the danger zone and handed her his invitation.

  Just enough of a distraction so he could breathe again.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Open it.”

  She slipped the invitation from the envelope, her eyes sparkling as she scanned the page. “You want to go away?”

  “Made the arrangements already. Widow Serafine and her family are taking Ike down for the Baptiste family picnic.”

  “The camp will be all ours?”

  He nodded. “We’ll have to take care of the animals, but I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  “Of course not.” She threw her arms around his neck and pressed against him in a way that flooded his thoughts of what Jillian wasn’t wearing under her uniform.

  Sliding his hands along her bottom, he anchored her close, enjoying the feel of the soft fabric molding her tight cheeks, the pressure of the padded clamps he could feel through their clothing. His crotch reacted even more insistently, and Jillian laughed, noticing.

  “You’d better control yourself. You’ve got patients waiting.”

  “How can I control myself when I know you’re going commando?”

  Now there was a question. One that obviously delighted Jillian because she tossed her head back, sending those glossy waves tumbling sexily over her shoulders, torturing him with thoughts of how his fingers would feel threading through all that cool silk.

  “I thought you wanted to build the tension?” she asked dryly.

  “I do. But we’ve got to make it until the weekend.”

  “Worried?”

  “Very.”

  She grinned. “I’m flattered.”

  He sank his fingers into her bottom, anchoring her so he could rock his own hips to ease this ache. He shuddered.

  She chuckled.

  I’m fighting fire with fire here, Michael. You’ll be begging by Friday.

  “I had no idea you were so bloodthirsty.” The words were out of his mouth before he thought the better of it.

  Jillian only laughed, though, and he leaped
in with a suggestion to cover his slip.

  “Maybe we should have dinner to discuss this bloodthirsty streak of yours,” he suggested. “I want to know why watching me suffer is turning you on.”

  “Mmm. For the same reason it turns you on, I’d guess. You like being able to make me squirm. Power is powerful stuff.” She arched her body so his erection ground against her and dragged another shiver from him. “Think we can get out of here early enough tonight for dinner at a decent time?”

  “We’re squeezing life in around us, remember?”

  She rocked against him again, clearly on edge and enjoying the feel of their bodies touching. Michael knew right then and there that he was in trouble. Friday was too far away.

  And that thought, along with every melting glance she gave him, haunted Michael the rest of the afternoon. By the time he finished up his last patients of the day, he was mentally searching for a caveat in his tension-building clause.

  “I hear you’re taking Jillian to dinner,” Charlotte said, pausing in the front doorway on her way out.

  Michael nodded. “Kevin’s.”

  “He should comp your dinner after standing you up for his last appointment.”

  “I told him a decent table and five-star service will square us.”

  Charlotte laughed. “Good for you. Then see you both bright and early tomorrow.”

  “Have a good night,” Jillian said.

  “Yeah,” Michael added as Charlotte turned to head out the door.

  She stopped at the last minute, though, and turned back to them. “Oh, Jillian. I forgot to tell you that Dr. Hyatt’s office left a message on voice mail, confirming your appointment for tomorrow at 3:30.”

  “Thank goodness you picked up. I’d completely forgotten.”

  Michael didn’t wonder why. Not when his beautiful bride had had other, much more pleasurable things to occupy her thoughts today. Namely the spheres that were currently jingling around inside her with every step she took.

  Charlotte left and Michael locked the door behind her. “Ready, Jilly?”

  “Just have to put the phones on service.” She reached for the phone. “So, do I have to wear your latest gift to dinner?”