Page 58 of Kiss an Angel

have without them. By the time she reached the bed, every part of her body tingled with excitement and anticipation. For a moment the thought of the whips stored just underneath them intruded, but she pushed it away.

She gazed down at him lying with his arms in mock bondage. Her captive. As long as he stayed as he was, every part of his body was hers to explore, including the imposing mound that destroyed the smooth surface of the towel. She drew her eyes away and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Remember what I said,” she whispered. “You have to keep your hands where they are. You can’t move them.”

“If you open your legs just a little bit, sweetheart, I’ll be as cooperative as I know how.”

Fair was fair, she decided, and she eased her thighs apart. He gazed at what she had revealed. His right arm twitched, as if he were getting ready to move it, but then he relaxed.

She lowered her head and began tasting him again, nibbling near the bottom curve of his rib cage. His flesh was firm and tightly muscled. She slid her hands over his chest, enjoying the texture of hair and skin gone moist. She couldn’t resist those brown nipples and ran her lips across them, making him writhe beneath her. Reaching up, she clasped his biceps and squeezed. Her thumbs discovered the pulsing veins that ran beneath his skin. She traced them downward and found her way to the soft hair in his armpits. As she dallied there, goose bumps broke out over his damp skin, and he made an inarticulate noise deep in his throat. Slowly lifting her head, she met his eyes.

“I’m going to take off your towel.”

“Are you now?”

The raw desire in his eyes reminded her she was playing with fire. But she had no intention of turning back, and she moved her hands to the top of the towel. With one smooth motion, she opened it and spread it apart.

“Oh . . .” He was magnificent. She extended her hand and touched him tentatively with the tip of her finger. He nearly leaped off the bed, and she snatched back her hand.

Her gaze flew to his face. It was contorted as if he were in pain. “Did I hurt you?”

“You’ve got sixty seconds,” he croaked, “and then I’m moving my arms.”

A thrill of pleasure shot through her as she realized this was all part of the game. “Not till I give you permission,” she said sternly.

“Fifty seconds,” he replied.

She hurried to touch him again, letting her curious fingertips roam along every inch, caressing here and there. She nudged his thighs open a few inches and found more places to touch.

“Twenty seconds,” he groaned.

“Stop counting so fast.”

He chuckled and moaned at the same time, making her smile. But then her smile faded. After all of these years, how was her small body supposed to accommodate something like this? As she closed her hand around him, it occurred to her that her own internal parts could very well have atrophied from lack of use. She moved her hand.

“That’s it!”

Without warning, she found herself flipped to her back with his weight pressing down on her. “I think it’s time you got a little of your own medicine, sweetheart. Assume the position.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hands against the wall.”

She gulped and thought of the whips. Maybe her plan to play the femme fatale had worked too well. He believed her far more experienced than she was.

“Alex?”

“We’re not talking till I see that you know how to follow orders.”

She slowly raised her arms to the pillow.

“I told you to touch the wall.”

She did as she was ordered, and she’d never felt more defenseless or more aroused. As her knuckles brushed the thin paneling behind her she was overcome by an unsettling combination of uneasiness and a deep sensual hunger. She wanted to beg him to be gentle with her. At the same time, she wanted him to love her with all his might.

She lay like a bound captive beneath his gaze. Somehow the fact that there were no true restraints holding her in place didn’t make her position of subjugation any less real. He was so much stronger than she, so much more powerful, that he could do whatever he wished, regardless of whether or not she agreed. A prickle of alarm ruffled the edges of her arousal only to fade as he ran the tip of his finger across her stomach, back and forth over the fishnet until she wanted to scream. He moved lower, touching the patch of curls.

“Open up, sweetheart.”

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