Night Whispers - Leslie Kelly [48]
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he asked as she dropped the satchel to the floor. “You’ve been acting very mysteriously.”
“I know. But all will now be revealed.” She bit her lip nervously. Kelsey caught Mitch’s eye as she began unbuttoning her cape. She gently pulled the hood back, revealing her curls, then let the cape slide from her shoulders to pool around her feet.
Mitch sucked in his breath and widened his eyes.
She wore a gauzy white blouse that clung to her body as if it were painted on. Only the sleeves, long and billowy, were loose. They covered her from upper arm to wrist. But her shoulders, upper chest, and throat were totally exposed. The top of the tight blouse skimmed her breasts, revealing a great deal of creamy cleavage, and Mitch thought if Kelsey moved too quickly she would reveal far more than she wanted to.
Adding to the natural “spillage” danger was the fact that Kelsey wore a tight white bustier over the blouse. It laced in the front, cinching her waist to near nothingness, hugging her midriff and pushing her breasts up to a dangerous level.
A flowing white skirt skimmed over her shapely hips and fell in layered ruffles to mid-calf. Kelsey moved slightly, and Mitch saw that on one side the skirt curved into a slit that came up to her upper thigh.
Her hair was a mass of shining curls, lustrous and inviting and seductive as hell, falling in ringlets over her shoulders. Her huge green eyes stared at him from her exquisite face, and Mitch just drank in her beauty.
“What in heaven’s name are you supposed to be?” he finally asked when he regained the ability to speak.
Kelsey dropped her eyes and said, “Um…your wench.”
“My what?”
“You know,” she explained, “a pirate’s wench.”
“A…pirate’s wench?”
Kelsey bent over, and Mitch was unable to suppress a groan at the view he was given. He watched as she grabbed for the bag she’d had him carry into the lobby.
“Now, Mitch, you trust me, right?”
Mitch was able to nod, but that was all. His voice hadn’t started working yet, since she’d sucked all the air out of his body when she bent over in front of him.
“Okay, then,” she said, “close your eyes.”
Mitch complied instantly, glad for the chance to pull his eyes back into his head.
“Just bear with me, okay? Withhold judgment for a minute?”
“I’ll agree to withhold judgment if you’ll agree not to fall out of that damned blouse,” he said without opening his eyes.
A light peal of laughter was her only response. The bag she’d been carrying rustled, then Mitch heard a clinking sound and tried to place it. It registered about two seconds before he felt the shackle slide around his wrist and snap shut with a click.
“What the…”
“Uh-uh, no peeking. Just one more second,” Kelsey said, sliding the other shackle over her own wrist. “Now you can open your eyes.”
Mitch did.
They stood in front of a mirrored wall, and Mitch studied the reflection. Kelsey stared at him in the mirror, biting the corner of her lip and looking the tiniest bit uncertain. As well she might.
“Kelsey, we’re chained together.”
“Yes, Mitch, I know.”
8
MITCH’S RIGHT WRIST WAS ENCASED in a metal bracelet that looked and felt like a real prisoner’s shackle. About five feet of chain, probably three-quarter-inch links, hung down his body, then looped and traveled up Kelsey’s white-clad form, ending at a smaller shackle on her left wrist.
Though there was enough play in the chain for them to move apart, Kelsey was pressed against him, still watching for his reaction. Mitch took a deep breath, inhaling her flowery fragrance, and felt a familiar rush of excitement. He continued to study the reflection. He and Kelsey, a pirate and a wench.
“Well?” she finally asked, breaking the several moments of silence. “What do you think?”
“Hmm,” he said slowly, “what do I think?”
He saw her mouth tighten and her hand move toward her pocket. She was nervous.