We were both whispering. I wasn’t sure why; the house was so big that we might as well have been in another county as far as the staff were concerned. But the darkness and the secrecy and the soft touches somehow made this moment illicit and stolen and not to be spoken aloud.
“I trust you,” I murmured.
There was a pause as Hunter took in my words. “Thank you,” he finally said.
My hand was still on his. As if they had a will of their own, my fingers began to stroke his palm—I blushed, glad that the poor light would hide it, and pulled away under the pretense of selecting a snack.
The tin was small, but it held a solid assortment of sweets, dried jerky, and home-made trail mix. I chose a chocolate in a bright green foil and unwrapped it, the foil rustling like a secret waiting to be told. When I bit down, a sweet cognac liquor burst across my taste buds, and I couldn’t keep from groaning in ecstasy.
“Hey, you try eating this and not expressing your appreciation!” I shot back at him in a whisper, waving the chocolate in his face.
He raised an eyebrow at me, and then he bit right down on the chocolate in my hand, his soft lips just moistening the tips of my fingers.
His rakish grin set my blood on fire as he leaned forward and carefully licked a smudge of chocolate from my thumb.
Calling all doctors, calling all doctors, Allison Bartlett’s heart has just stopped cold.