Sealed With a Kiss Event - Susanna Ives

Susanna Ives grew up in the rural South, where she spent most of her youth at the local theater, acting in productions, working in the lighting booth, and building sets. Eventually she left her small town for the city lights of Atlanta, where she attended college and worked in corporations as a multimedia developer. These days she chases after her two curious, energetic children, designs web pages, and writes.

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Lord and Lady Dashiell have been married for several years, but they still desire each other like love-crazed newlyweds. Vivienne has been busy planning a rather sexy Valentine’s Day present for her husband…

Wicked Little Valentines

London, 1852

“Love, are you ready?” Lord Dashiell called to his wife from his side of the door connecting their bedchambers. “I’m dying. This box must weigh ten stones.” He wore a deep blue silk robe and, in his arms, he held a huge present tied in a red bow. Despite how he teased his wife, the box wasn’t heavy.

What was killing him was his desire for her.

“One minute,” Vivienne called.

No, now! He thought. I’ve been dreaming about you all day. He heard more shuffling in the other room. “Am I going to have to break down the door?”

At that moment she opened it. His jaw dropped. She wore a robe of sorts: red, delicate and sheer enough to expose all her female parts. Her long black hair flowed loose. She wore the intricate gold necklace, earrings and bracelets that he had bought her in India. Around the bedchamber, tiny candles flickered and sweet incense filled the air.

The edge of her mouth hiked in a sly smile as she easily lifted the package from his arms. “You poor man, let me take this box. Oh, my goodness, it’s so heavy! How did you manage?” She cast a coquettish, come-hither glance over her shoulder, her tresses swishing across her back as she headed for the bed. Perfect.

“Is this my St. Valentine’s Day present?” she asked.

“It’s St. Valentine’s?” He feigned shock. “That’s just something I picked up while I was waiting at the wine merchant’s.”

She stuck out her tongue at him, sat on the bed and tugged at the bow, her eyes dancing with anticipation. Yet when she opened the lid, her beautiful smile faltered.

She withdrew a huge blade. “What in the world?”

“It’s a machete, love.”

“You gave me a knife for St. Valentine’s Day?” Annoyed disbelief imbued her voice.

“There’s more,” he said, coming to sit beside her. Her jasmine and sugar scent filled his nose and tingled in his nerves. My God, she was beautiful. Her lips formed a teasing moue, just begging to be ravished. But when he leaned forward to capture her mouth, she looked down, leaving him to kiss the empty air. From the box, she drew a mosquito net, a canister of chocolate, and then a stunning turquoise necklace–for that one, he received a hug. He could feel her breasts beneath the thin fabric, sending a warm current to his chest before heading further south.

“Can we just skip the rest, love?” he asked, gently trying to recline her against the mattress.

A hot spark flashed in her green eyes. “Not until I read your letter telling me of your undying, love and devotion.”

“But you know that already. Let’s just go to the part where I show you my undying adoration.”

She put her finger to his lips and then dug his valentine from the bottom of the box. Tickets for a ship to South America fell out as she began to read.

She dropped the letter and gazed at him. “That’s so beautiful.”

He tried to pretend that her lovely, luscious wet eyes didn’t move his heart. “Now that that’s over … ” Again, he attempted to lower her onto the bed, trailing little kisses on her neck, whispering how much he desired her.

“Wait,” she cried, giving him a gentle push.

“Why are you torturing me? It’s St. Valentine’s Day.”

“Because you haven’t read my letter. I’ve been working on it all week, and I’m very proud of it.”

She handed him an envelope. He drew out two missives. “Vivienne, this is Sanskrit.”

“I know,” she gushed. “But look, I wrote an English version on the page below.”

He shifted the papers and began to read:

He stared at her, his hand on her cheek. “I adore you with all my heart,” he whispered, and planted a tender kiss on her eyelid. “All my soul.” Another kiss on the tip of her nose. “All my being.” The last kiss found her mouth and quickly turned hot with desire.

“Wait,” she said again.

“I can’t!”

“Yes, you can for your present.”

From under the pillow she drew out a slim, old volume. “I found this in India. It’s um… interesting.” She snuggled close to him and opened the first page.
He chuckled. “The Kama Sutra.”

She blushed and turned the pages, all richly illustrated. “I think we should try this one.”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head, teasing her. “That looks awfully strenuous. Are you sure?”

She nodded, her blush deepening.

“Very well.” A dark smile curled his mouth as he began to untie his robe. “Then you’ll just lift your legs around my – ”

Bam! The door flew open. “Oh, God!” Vivienne cried as they snatched the covers, hiding their bodies.

“Happy St. Valentine’s!” Their six-year-old daughter waved a card with a misshapen heart painted on the front. “See what I made! Do you want to read it?”

Husband and wife looked at each other and sighed, resigned. “Later,” he whispered to Vivienne. “And let’s remember to lock the door.” He turned and patted the bed. “Dearest, let’s see your card.”

Check out Vivienne and Hadrian's love story in Wicked Little Secrets

It's Not Easy Being Good...

Vivacious Vivienne Taylor has finally won her family's approval by getting engaged to the wealthy and upright John Vandergrift. But when threatened by a vicious blackmail scheme, it is to her childhood friend that Vivienne turns; the deliciously wicked Viscount Dashiell.

When Being Wicked is so Much More Exciting...

Lord Dashiell promised himself long ago that his friendship with Vivienne would be the one relationship with a woman that he wouldn't ruin. He agrees to help her just to keep the little hothead safe, but soon finds that Vivienne has grown up to be very, very dangerous to all of Dash's best intentions.

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