Katie MacAlister - The Corset Diaries by Katie MacAlister

Author:Katie MacAlister
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2008-09-01T17:15:40+00:00

I let my smile go naughty and tightened every muscled I had around where he still lay snugly within me. He twitched twice, then

dipped his head down to plunder my lips, growling into my mouth as he did so, “Prepare to be convinced, woman.”

By the time dawn streaked the morning sky pink and gold, he had convinced me. Oh, man, how he convinced me!

Sunday

September 5

4:01P.M.

Lake, watching Max teach Melody how to fish

Max is a boob. Let me qualify that—he is an extraordinarily warm, drool-worthy, handsome-as-sin man, but still a boob.

I twirled my parasol and glanced over to Sam, who was filming our little threesome. He raised his eyebrows. I rolled my eyes.

“Dad, I can do it.”

“Just wait a moment, Melody. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I’m not a baby. I can do it.”

Max frowned at her. “Most girls wouldn’t want to. You don’t see Tessa playing with worms, do you?”

“That’s only because I get other ideas once I get a pole in my hands,” I said, trying to look as if I didn’t mean exactly what I did.

Max shot me a look that let me know he was on to me. I wiggled my toes at him, enjoying the pleasant tension that hummed

through me whenever he was near.

“Dad, it’smyworm. I can put it on the hook!”

“Come on, Max, it’s just a fishhook. She’s not going to cut her arm off with it. Let the poor kid spit her own worm!”

“It isn’t ladylike,” he answered, his dark head bent next to Melody’s as he sacrificed a worm on the altar of fishing.

I bit back a retort, mindful of the camera. I had a feeling that Victorian daddies didn’t think it was at all nice for their daughters to skewer worms, so I let it go. There would be time later for a little lecture about just how outdated the termladylikewas, not to

mention the bad effect an overprotective parent could have on the development of a child.

I closed the parasol and leaned back against the tree trunk, pleasantly warm but not too hot in the shade, watching quite

contentedly from the blanket Max had spread out as Sam and Wilma filmed him showing Melody how to cast. The gentle tingling

that hadn’t seemed to leave me since the night he and I spent frolicking on that big bed of his provided an undercurrent of desire

that grew as I watched him. I marveled over the fact that I was privy to all the secrets his stuffy Victorian clothing hid, all the sleek lines of his body, all the warm spots, his ticklish armpits, the wonderful muscles of his thighs, the way his hair curled at the back of

his neck. I marveled even more that he was my lover, a status that meant I had the right to touch him whenever I wanted. I could

just walk up to him and slide my hand up his chest, and he would accept the caress.

Tempted as I was to do that very thing, I sat on the blanket and kept my smutty thoughts to myself.

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