The Watson Brothers. Lori Foster
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you make love to me now?”
He slanted glittering eyes at her and said, “You just can’t be quiet, can you?”
Ariel felt hurt. He’d just done the most amazing thing to her and still he was apart from her. It wasn’t easy, but she got her sluggish limbs to work and turned on her side to face him. He stared down at her body, his gaze concentrated, hot.
She stared at his chest. Among a smattering of older scars randomly dispersed over his torso, there was a fresh, dark bruise coloring his ribs, evidence of the night he’d just had. Stricken, Ariel thought of how many times he’d been hurt, how much he must have suffered in his efforts to protect. Maybe, she thought, he physically wasn’t up to making love with her. Old wounds, new wounds…Was she being selfish?
He’d already given her pleasure without intercourse. She could do the same, sparing his sore body.
Wanting to make him feel as good as she did, Ariel leaned forward and brushed a butterfly kiss over the nearest scar, a small bullet wound that grazed his shoulder. Sam froze, not even breathing.
Encouraged, she spread her hands over his chest, tangling her fingers in his dark chest hair, stroking him as he’d stroked her.
Ariel noted a thin, light line near his collarbone, about two inches long. It looked like it might have been a deep cut, perhaps with a knife. Appalled at the awful risks he took, she kissed that, too.
This close, his scent was twice as potent. Those odd turbulent feelings roused in her again.
She kissed three bruises, one on his shoulder, his temple, another on his ribs. “Sam,” she whispered, and opened her mouth on him. His skin was deliciously warm and sleek, his flesh firm. Turning her head, she moved closer to a flat nipple hidden beneath his chest hair. Her tongue touched him.
Sam grabbed her shoulders. In a heartbeat, Ariel found herself flat on her back with Sam straddling her hips. “I said no touching, Ariel.”
She blinked up at him, unable to move, confused by how quickly he’d reversed their positions. He sounded so stern, looked so dangerous. “I’ll try…”
“Too late.”
Her eyes widened. Oh no. He was going to tell her to leave. He would throw her out and she hadn’t had a real chance yet to make him understand how perfect they’d be together.
He stretched her arms high until they nearly touched the slatted headboard, then reached across her for the nightstand and jerked open the top drawer. Ariel twisted, trying to see what he was doing…He pulled out handcuffs.
“Sam.”
“I haven’t had much chance to use these since going undercover.” He let them dangle in front of her face, waiting, she knew, for her to protest, to insist he release her.
They stared at each other, his expression lethal, hers uncertain, but neither of them backed down. Sam leaned over her.
One metal bracelet clicked around her wrist, then clicked and clicked again when he tightened it to fit her small bones. She had room to turn her hand, but she couldn’t slip it free. Her stomach fluttered in apprehension.
He glared down at her. “You ready to call a halt?”
Damn him. She wasn’t a criminal he could intimidate so easily, because she knew Sam would never hurt her. No matter his games, no matter his intent, she knew him, loved him, and trusted him. “No.”
His mouth tightened. “Make sure, Ariel.”
She would not let him scare her. She would not let him off the hook that easily, either. One way or another, she’d get through to him, even if that meant showing him her trust first by playing out these bizarre games of sexual dominance.
She stared him in the eyes. “I’m sure.”
Sam wanted to howl, to curse the moon and punch a hole in the wall. Ariel had taken his control and turned it back on him, openly sharing her pleasure, then kissing his injuries—old and new—as if she wanted to heal him.
Like a few stupid marks on his body really mattered to her.
He was so damn hard his guts clenched and his brain cramped. Watching Ariel come had been something he’d never forget. She was so sweet she made him break out in a sweat just by smiling.
Would she taste as sweet as she looked?
Jesus. Before he could change his mind he caught her other wrist, aware of how tiny her bones were, how delicate. He slipped the chain connecting the handcuffs through a slat in the headboard then snapped the cold steel around her.
Breathing hard in both regret and shattering lust, he looked down at her pale, slim body stretched out beneath him, shackled in place. He didn’t want to think about anything, he only wanted to devour her, to take everything she had and give her another mind-blowing orgasm.
He plumped up her breasts in his hands, thumbed her nipples roughly, watched her squirm.
“Not a word,” he warned, knowing if she started telling him what she wanted again, he’d lose the fight. He moved off her, opened her legs wide and repositioned himself between them, on his knees so he could drape her legs over his. “That’s better.”
Those beautiful hazel eyes of hers, now more topaz than brown, watched him without blinking, conveying some silent message that he damn well didn’t want to hear. Her mouth looked puffy and soft and kissable. Her small chin quivered, but not because she might cry. No, he knew Ariel wouldn’t do that.
Probably it quivered with stubbornness.
“I like to see a woman, all of her, when I take her,” he explained. Her legs draped his, white against his dark slacks, sleek and lightly muscled. He looked at her breasts. Earlier her nipples had been velvety soft, but once he’d touched them, they’d stayed puckered, begging for his mouth.
She lightly licked her lips, luring him. Bracing his hands on the pillow at either side of her head, Sam bent down and savaged her mouth with ruthless hunger, kissing her hard, thrusting his tongue between her teeth. She didn’t fight him or pull back. No, she accepted his tongue, sucked on it, returned his kiss with equal passion.
He groaned, aware of her straining up to him, trying to get more of him. Her thighs were tensed, her belly lifting into him.
He pulled himself away and took his pleasure at her breasts. He loved suckling a woman and could be content to spend an hour on her nipples alone. But not this time. As soon as Ariel started writhing, he moved lower, nibbling on her ribs, then lower still until he could dip his tongue into her navel.
She held her breath, anticipating what he might do, he knew. Did she like oral sex? Had any man ever kissed her between her thighs? He hoped not. He wanted to be the first.
“Wider,” he said as he pressed her legs farther apart and held them in place when she would have automatically brought them together again. He glanced up at her still face, flushed but uncertain. “Keep them that way.”
Using his fingertips, he opened her lips, exposing her glistening pink flesh. Her clitoris was swollen from her recent climax, extra sensitive. Gently, he kissed her, heard her shocked, eager gasp, and he closed his mouth around the tender bud.
With a hoarse cry, she nearly lurched away, but he cupped her hips firmly in his big hands and held her secure. Because he knew her nerve endings were already tingling, still alive from her last orgasm, he was very careful not to push her too fast, to cause her any discomfort. He suckled softly, easily, taking his time, stroking with his tongue. When she was ready for more, her legs stiffened and her arms pulled tight against her bonds.
“Sam,” she said, all breathless and low. “Sam, Sam, Sam…”
Her cries were raw, real, and he loved it, the way she responded, the pleasure he gave her so easily. She didn’t hold back at all, didn’t try to temper her response. He replaced his mouth with his fingers and raised his head to see her face.