Page 122 of Wicked Fantasies

She walked away from the bed, pressing her back against the wall for support.

“This is not, I mean, I don’t—” She was gasping for air and her voice and her body betrayed her, shaking uncontrollably.

He sat up slowly and she knew he was deliberately keeping his movements unhurried lest he frighten her. “Gwen, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

She wanted to laugh at the understatement of his words. He’d pulled her hair, held her down and she’d responded like a bitch in heat.

He didn’t think that was wrong, weird?

“I told you before, Ty. I want us to keep our relationship professional. Sex muddies the water. You know that.”

“No, I don’t think I do. Gwen, there’s nothing wrong with admitting that we’re attracted to each other sexually. Shit, I can’t think of anything I want more than to tie your lovely body to that bed and bury myself between those hot thighs of yours.”

“Stop it! Stop saying stuff like that. It isn’t going to happen. Ever.”

He scowled at her words and rose from the bed, crossing to where she stood, trembling. “Well, I think you and I are about to have our first disagreement.”

He leaned toward her as she pressed her body flat against the wall. He caged her in, grasping her hands by the wrists once again and pressing them against the flat surface, just above her head. “You and I are most certainly going to have sex, Gwen. Hard, hot, incredibly intense sex and you’re going to love every minute of it.”

“You smug, conceited?—”

“Pull your pants down,” he said as he loosened his grip.

She wanted to deny him, wanted to drive her fists against his chest and tell him to get the hell away from her, but his deep voice, his demanding words spoke to the loneliest part of her soul, and she felt as if she’d been sunk neck-deep in quicksand.

“Pull them down now,” he repeated, his voice commanding. Clearly he expected her to comply. This was so wrong. God dammit, it was wrong. And yet her body felt alive for the first time ever.

She reached for the waistband of her pajama bottoms, and she slowly shimmied the soft cotton over her hips. The material fell to her ankles and she stepped out of it, never taking her gaze off his determined face.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and she raised her hand to slap him for his condescending comment. He caught her wrist before her hand connected and pressed it against the wall. “You don’t want to do that.”

She closed her eyes in surrender and he released her hand.

His dominant actions, his powerful words, were truly soothing her weary soul, despite the fact her head was demanding she run away from him.

Ty Ransome was the one man who could be her complete and utter downfall, yet rather than escape, she found herself relishing every touch, every word he offered.

How many times had she dreamed of a moment just like this?

How many nights had she lain alone in her bed praying for a man to take over for her? Take all her fears and worries and insecurities and simply claim her.

He reached over to the desk by her bed and pulled out the chair, dragging it to where they stood. Then he gripped her thigh firmly, lifting it. “Place your foot on the chair.”

She did as he said, gasping when he gripped her knee and spread her legs farther apart. “Stay there and don’t take your leg down,” he ordered.

She obeyed, slightly embarrassed by the fact she was so wet her juices were practically running down her leg.

“What a pretty pussy you have.” He brushed a finger through the curls surrounding her clit.

“I don’t want you to touch me and Idon’tlike the way you’re talking to me.” She gasped for the breath to tell her lie.

He laughed at her comment and she saw red.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” he taunted. “Or should I say pussy on fire? There’s a pool of juices here that tell me you love the way I’m talking to you.”

She cursed her body’s betrayal and lowered her leg. “I want you to leave. I want you to get out of this guest house.”

He studied her face as she spoke, and she could feel the unbearable heat in her cheeks. No doubt she was blushing as red as a beet. One of the curses of being naturally pale in complexion.

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