Page 75 of The Merger
“Will you keep your hands up here, or should I tie you to the bed?” he asks, his tone low and gravelly.
I draw in a shaky breath. “I’ll keep them here.”
“If you don’t, I’ll tie your ankles together, too.”
He slides off the bed and stands at the end.
“You know, this sounds like a good time,” I say, writhing with the need to come again. I start to lower my hands, but a stern look from Gannon makes me freeze. “But the lack of touching is starting to be a downer.”
“Yes, you’re right.”
“Thank God.”
He crawls across the mattress, looking like he’s about to devour me. His shoulders flex as he moves, and his biceps tighten beneath the soft lighting. I whimper as he grows closer, and the need to be touched overwhelms me.
“Gannon—hey!”
My arms are tugged backward, pulling my body across the plush comforter. I tip my chin to watch him tie the end of the fabric around a slat on the headboard.Oh, shit. I wiggle against the restraints but it’s no use.
I’m not going anywhere.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my tone a mix of excitement and uncertainty. “I can’t move.”
He smiles devilishly and lowers his face to mine, which makes me moan in anticipation. He presses a hard, deliberate kiss to my lips.
“No, you can’t,” he whispers against my lips. “That’s the point.”
He pushes off the bed and stands, while watching me like a predator would prey.
I’m acutely aware of my situation. Immobile. Vulnerable. Naked. I wait for my self-consciousness to kick in … but it doesn’t.
My nipples peak in response to the chilly room and Gannon’s heated gaze. The ache in my belly is nearly unbearable, fluttering into excited butterflies when his expression shifts.
“My, how the tables have turned,” he says, smirking. “How do you feel right now, Miss Johnson?”
“Wet.”
His smirk grows deeper as he unfastens his pants.
“I’d imagine that you’re feeling … frustrated,” he says, pushing his slacks over his hips. They slide down his muscled thighs and fall to the floor. “Probably a little irritated.”
I force a swallow. “You could fix all of that, you know.”
“Oh, I know.” He grins. “But where’s the fun in that?”
“It would be fun. I promise.”
“You were the one saying how fun it was to get off while your partner—me—was occupied.”
Oh. Fuck.
“I want to try it for myself,” he says, nodding as reality hits me.
This bastard is going to make me suffer.
He disappears into the bathroom again, leaving me tied up and wanting.
“Hey!” I say, tugging on the fabric. “Don’t do this to me.”
