Decadent. Suzanne Forster
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ripped off a strip of silver tape, one-handed.
“What’s that?” Ally asked.
She barely had the question out before her wrist was wrapped in silver. He held up the roll of duct tape for her to see, and she edged away from him.
“What are you going to do with that?”
It would have amazed her to know all the various uses a man like Sam had for duct tape, including de-linting his clothes and flinging it like a Frisbee to startle intruders. Right now, he had something more interesting in mind.
“I have enough of this stuff to wrap your entire naked body,” he told her. “Quite a gift you’d be then, hmm? Can you imagine what that would feel like, especially when I unwrap you?”
He gave the tape around her wrist a tug, and then ripped it free. She winced, but held his gaze like a trooper. Still she was nervous now, and that was just where he wanted her. It was nothing personal. Situations like this demanded that he press his advantage.
“Is this a bondage game?” she asked. “I don’t normally do the kinky stuff. I could get someone else for you, though. Just let me make a phone call, and I’ll take care of that right away.”
Sam smiled down at her as he stood up. “Bondage game? No, afraid not, although that might be interesting for later. What we’re about to play is a mind game. And just so you know, there’s a part of this game that some women simply hate.”
Letting that sink in, he added, “I’m going to ask you some questions and you’re going to answer them. There’s nothing to it, as long as you tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. You’re familiar with that concept, aren’t you?”
The last question was delivered with a straight face.
The “ga-ame” had just turned serious.
WHY DID ALLY FEEL as if she’d just been asked the mother of all trick questions? Everything about the situation suddenly seemed like a setup. The lights being on, the absence of any personal items, Sinclair’s unexpected appearance—had he known she would show up here?
Clearly the plan had blown up in her face, and she couldn’t see any way to turn things to her advantage, but she wasn’t giving up. She’d been caught in his suite, trapped in his bed, and she strongly suspected he hadn’t been fooled into believing she was one of Aragon’s women, sent up as a midnight snack. But she was sticking to her story.
“I really do need to make a call,” she said evenly. “If I don’t check in with the club, they’ll try to reach me on my cell.”
“Well, if they do, I’ll answer for you and tell them you’re much too busy to be disturbed. Now…for our little game.”
Sinclair bent down, picked up one of her high heels and held it up to the light, as if to examine it. She’d chosen the sexiest shoes she owned. They were open-toed with a cap heel and delicate straps that crisscrossed her ankle. But now they were scraped and soiled from her adventure in the graveyard.
He cast a quizzical glance her way. “Dirty shoes on an Aragon woman? By the looks of these heels, you must have taken the back way out of the cemetery. Wouldn’t one of the club’s hostesses change her clothes—and shoes—before making her appointed rounds?”
“I suppose I should have, now that you mention it. I didn’t want to be late.”
She didn’t like where this was heading. He seemed to know more than he was letting on, which meant he was playing with her. She had to start planning her next move—out of this place.
Sinclair set down the shoe in favor of examining her ankles. He leaned across the bed and began tracing his fingertip along the tender flesh of her calves. “Goose bumps. Are you cold?”
Ally wasn’t. She had too much adrenaline coursing through her body to feel the biting chill in the room.
“And these red bumps look like insect bites,” he said. “Maybe chiggers? Mosquitoes? Just how long were you searching for your contact lens? Must have been quite some time.”
Ally remembered being bitten by insects while at the cemetery. She hadn’t thought it would be used as evidence against her.
“I’m not having fun,” she said. “I’d like to go now.”
“Oh, but I’m not through with you yet. In fact, we’ve only just started.”
He sat down next to her, his smile fading as his dark eyes drilled holes through her. “I want to know why you’re here and what you’re up to,” he said. “I’m not convinced you work for Aragon, or that he sent you here to please me or to keep me company. The game ends when I have those questions answered, and not a minute before.”
He studied her intently. “And while we’re at it, maybe you can explain why you’ve been following me for the last three days.”
He had known all along. He had been just waiting for the right moment. The adrenaline blast that had cut off her ability to feel cold in the room was now paralyzing her vocal chords. “F-following you? No, I—”
Sinclair rose to his full height, gazing down at her. This time he meant business. His dark gold eyebrows had flattened and his expression was steely.
Ally ran through her options. She could tell him the truth, which was out of the question since she still wasn’t sure who he was. Lie to him, which was tempting except that she didn’t happen to have a convincing lie handy. Or remain silent and tell him nothing.
She went for the last one. Silence. Let him make the next move, she decided. If things got out of hand, she would scream her head off. This was a hotel. They had security.
“I’m waiting,” Sinclair said.
“I must admit, you have me curious, Mr. Sinclair, if I may call you that. The club gave me your name. Maybe we can do some bargaining? I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.”
Sinclair shook his head. “This is my game, and I don’t answer questions.”
“Then I don’t play.”
He cocked his head slightly. He was appraising her again, but Ally had no clue what was going through his mind.
His voice dropped low. “Remember when I said there was a part of this game that some women hated?”
She managed a weak nod, her heart thrumming wildly as he moved to the side of the bed. He pulled her to her feet, his fingers firmly wrapped around her wrists. “Well, here it comes.”
4
SAM RELEASED Ally almost as swiftly as he’d pulled her to her feet. With a suspicious eye, she watched him reach for the phone on the nightstand.
“What are you doing?”
“Making a phone call.”
He might as well have pulled a gun on her. Who was he calling? The police? Jason Aragon? She couldn’t let him do either.
“Let’s play that game,” she said.
He cast her a quizzical glance. “Now you want to play?”
“I love games. Love, love, love them. Who doesn’t? Put down the phone and let’s play.”
“Oh, but I can’t. The phone call is an important part of this game.”
“How so?” She didn’t like the smile that played at the edges of his mouth. It was too sensual.
Sam tapped the receiver, probably to taunt her. “Ever played truth or dare? Well, this is truth or bare. I ask a question, and you answer it. If you tell the truth, we go to the next question. If I catch you in a lie, you remove one piece of clothing.”
“Truth or bare?”
He