Page 10 of Wild Card

Deep furrows of conflict creased his brow. He slowly shook his head. “Bold, bonny girl,” he finally rasped. “You still don’t understand.”

“Then make me,” she countered. “Please, Sam. Make me understand.”

He slid one hand to the side of her face. Angled his thumb beneath her chin, bracing her to continue gazing at him. Like that was a huge problem. “You can already feel how badly I want you.”

She couldn’t help giggling. “Sam, they can probably feel it two rooms over.”

He didn’t return her humor. “But things aren’t just that easy.”

She pushed her lips up at him. When he deliberately pulled back, she pleaded, “Why?”

“Because…I want you completely, Jen. All of you…surrenderin’ to me.” The skirmish across his face continued, until he seemed to reach some bold inner decision. Jaw newly firmed, he went on, “It means I want to put you on that bed, strip every thread of clothing from you, then bind you down,”—he pushed harder on the wrist he still held—“a great deal like this.”

Jen fastened her stare deeper into his. “Only the bonds won’t be your hands.”

New light flared against the smoke of his eyes. New blood surged into the girth of his cock. “My hands would prefer to be busy with other things.”

As her own blood rushed south, Jen sucked in a long breath. “But is all that even…possible? I mean, here? This is a hotel, not a kink club.”

“This is the Nyte.” He stepped back a little, only to slide open the door to the entry hall closet. Inside of that, there was another cabinet, containing a backlit display, much like a custom liquor array. But in place of Belvedere, Bacardi, and Patrón, there were items like wrist cuffs, blindfolds, and riding crops. “An honor bar for every thirst.”

“No shit.”

Her face heated all over again. It had nothing to do with the toys and everything to do with the new intensity of Sam’s stare. She couldn’t bear to return the scrutiny, for fear of what it would do to her bloodstream…and the little lake pooling between her legs.

“Is that a good ‘no shit’ or a bad ‘no shit’?”

Time to look up. Even if she spontaneously combusted from it, she had to let him see how much she meant her response. “Could anything be bad with you, Sam Mackenna?”

An expression suffused his face, something between humility and pleasure. It warmed her so deeply, she wished she could tell him to do it again so she could fetch her phone and make a GIF of it. But even a digital reproduction wouldn’t compare to the energy he gave off, a heat that made her wonder if her extremities would turn into fireworks. It made her response to his next words an absolute no-brainer.

“Very well, then. Get on that bed, and let me watch you take off every stitch of your clothes.”

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