Page 38 of Stripped

"What happens now?" she asked, shivering as she took a sip.

He grabbed a blanket off the bed. "Come," he said. Sitting down in the chair next to her, he pulled her onto his lap and covered her with the throw. "Christ, your hands are frozen." He wrapped his arms around her as he held her close, and she was thankful for his warmth. "I need to check some things out tomorrow."

"And me?"

"You'll have to stay here. You'll be safe, and I'll be back tomorrow night." His hand rubbed her thigh. "I need to figure out who's threatening you, and I can't do that and keep you safe at the same time."

"I don't see why I can't come with you." She set her glass down on a table and laid her head on his chest, unsure what it was about him that made her feel so safe. God knows she had never felt this way with another man before. He loosened the tie on her sweater from around her waist and ran his finger up her spine.

"You can't come to the place I need to go. It's private."

"Why?"

"You just can't, Primrose. I need you to trust me."

She turned so she straddled him. "Show me why I should trust you." She looked him in the eyes, his green gaze not wavering.

"You shouldn't," he said, his voice having gone deep and husky.

"And that is why I do. You tell me the truth."

Her sweater had fallen open. She wore no bra, and his hand traced the small rise of her breasts as he leaned his forehead against hers. "We shouldn't do this."

"I told you, no complications. It's just sex."

"Primrose, it's becoming more than just sex."

She ran her hand over his jaw, the scrape of his beard rough on her palm. Her heart quickened. It had always been just sex for her, she'd never let anyone in, she'd never been in a relationship, never made love, and the thought scared her. But this wasn't a relationship, she reminded herself. This was nothing more than a work fling. Once Wraith found out who killed her grandfather and who was stalking her, he would leave. This was just sex, and it was safe. She unbuttoned his dress shirt and ran her hand down his mutilated chest, kissing one of his worst scars.

"Bloody fucking hell," he said. Grasping the back of her head, he brought her in for a kiss. This kiss was not fierce or aggressive like the other night. He took his time, coaxing her to open for him as he gently explored her, his breath warm and smoky from the whisky. He picked her up and carried her to the bed, laying her down. He pulled her pants and thong off in one fluid motion. The bed creaked with his weight as he continued to kiss her down her neck and throat to her breasts, where he lightly flicked his tongue over each nipple. Her back arched and she grabbed his hair, trying to bring his head back to her mouth. He sat up, straddling her, and put each of her arms above her head. "Leave them there."

She stilled at his command, the tone of his voice provoking her to obey. A pleasing warmth took root inside her and she felt the moisture grow between her legs. He returned to her breasts, suckling each tiny bud before he made his way down, kissing her stomach until he got to the juncture of her thighs. He started to spread her legs and she tensed. No one had ever kissed her there. Her hands came down, stopping him. "Wraith, no." Her face flushed with the heat of her embarrassment.

"I told you to leave your hands above your head," he said, standing up and removing his pants. His cock stood straight up, thick and large. The sound of his belt whistled through the room as he pulled it from the waistband of his discarded trousers. The warmth flamed in her with anxious anticipation, extending to her sex, and it began to pulse. He bound her wrists, the leather supple and smooth, forming to her skin like a memory. Then he tightened it, ensuring no escape as he attached the restraint to the headboard until it cut into her. Fuck, this was not a man to tease or play with. He was in charge and completely comfortable with that role, and she suddenly felt she might be in over her head.

"Now, where were we?" He straddled her again, resting a forearm on either side of her head as he looked down at her, his green eyes intense.

"Wraith, please."

"What?" He smiled, his thumb caressing her cheek. "You're actually blushing. Have I finally found something my little rebel hasn't done?"

"I—" she started to say.

"Shh." He brought a finger to her lips. "Now, we're going to start over and take this nice and slow." He kissed her again, his lips feather light against hers as his tongue began to prod hers. "Not everything has to be rough, Primrose." He made his way down her neck and chest, again lingering on her breasts until he came to her apex. "Open your legs for me."

"Wraith—"

"Open for me, or I'll start over." He put a hand on her thigh, and she stiffened. "Do as you're told." Her heart hammered in her chest. She had never been this intimate with anyone or allowed anyone this much control. Her defenses were lowered and he had somehow breached her wall. She let her legs fall open. "Good girl." He rewarded her with a kiss. "That wasn't so hard."

His mouth came between her legs, and he ran his tongue up the length of her cleft, separating her bare lips until he found her nub. A moan escaped her, her whole body now thrumming and on the verge of an orgasm. He focused on her sweet button, softly sucking and blowing on it until her legs began to shake. "That's it," he said. "Come for me." His words were enough to send her world crashing down as her core convulsed, over and over, in mind-numbing pleasure. He raised himself over her, undoing the belt and freeing her hands. "That wasn't so bad now, was it?" he asked, placing his cock at the entrance of her passage.

"No," she said, as the world around her began to piece itself together.

"No, Sir," he whispered in her ear, correcting her. "Say it."

"I'm not calling you Sir."

"Say it, or I'll get my belt, and we'll start over." He grabbed her wrists.

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