Page 58 of Taken As Collateral

My breath becomes uneven. My arousal has already been primed by the photographs and heats up more as I imagine what he’s describing.

“The rope goes through your legs,” he continues, “gets secured in back, before coming back around to the front.” Using both fingers, he traces a line above both breasts. “It will wrap here.” He drops his fingers below my breasts. “And here.”

My waist. “Here.”

My hips. “And here.”

My pulse quickens. He hasn’t touched me, but I want him to. I mean, Idon’t.

“How tight the rope fits,” he says, “depends on how naughty you’ve been. I could pull that knot against your clit really tight.”

I can’t swallow. All I can do is stare into his burning gaze.

“Would you like that, Priscilla?”

“I-I don’t know,” I stammer.

“Only one way to find out.”

That’s not where I intended my answer to lead! “I’ll pass,” I say.

Rafe looks amused. “I didn’t give you the option.”

I frown. “So I’m supposed to do everything you tell me to?”

“Would you rather not?”

“That depends. What happens if I’d rather not?”

“You’re welcome to find out.”

I stare at him, looking completely cool and unperturbed because he’s the one in a position of power.Damn you.

“I’ll give the rope a try,” I say, as if I did have a choice in the matter.

He takes me by the elbow and guides me to a set of doors different from the ones we came in through. I step into a room with dark wood paneling and vintage-style furnishings. There’s a full-length mirror framed in gold facing me. In it, I see Rafe standing behind me.

Wrapping an arm around my waist, he pulls me to him. His other hand cups my chin and tilts my head to one side so that he can murmur in my ear, “You’re going to look so beautiful in my rope.”

Despite my anger and concern, my body warms at his words. But I don’t want to be seduced. The situation is messed up as it is. I need to stay focused on getting out of here.

Only it seems I don’t have a choice. What would he do if I protested and put up a fight? Maybe nothing. Or maybe he’s no better than the Japanese soldiers in Nanking.

Lowering his head, Rafe kisses my shoulder. I shiver. Why does my body respond like this to him?

He kisses his way to my nape. On the side of my neck, he plants his lips and sucks. I might end up with a hickey there, but that’s the least of my problems.

His breath upon my skin ignites my nerves to life. I inhale sharply when he pulls the blouse down my arms. There wasn’t a strapless bra to wear with the top, so I went without one. He cups a breast, kneading it. Half mesmerized, I keep my gaze on the mirror, watching as his other hand reaches into my pants.

I should take a stand. Let him know he can’t just do whatever he wants with people. Too many rich and powerful people think they can get away with doing whatever the hell they want. But rich and powerful is actually not as dangerous as Rafe is, because he’s a criminal capable ofmurder.

So maybe I should cut myself some slack. Plus, my body doesn’t grapple with issues of dignity. It craves Rafe’s touch, the yearning increasing as he rubs me through my panties. I’m locked in his embrace. Putting up a fight would get me nowhere. He’d overpower me. I have nowhere to run. Though maybe I could lock myself in my room.

Then what? He probably wouldn’t let me call my brother if I didn’t behave as the “good guest” that he wants me to be.

I softly grunt when he tugs on a nipple and feel myself creaming my underwear as he fondles me. So much for not being distracted. I resign myself. I rejoice when he slips his hand into my panties.

Finding my wetness, he murmurs, “Nice, Priscilla. I bet you taste good, too.”

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