Skin Tight (11 page)

A lone light burned in the living room, which was decorated in rustic red and yellow. Primitive paintings lined the walls, adding contrast to the rich wood walls. The furniture had been handcrafted, and cushions etched with geometric patterns sat at calculated angles. This was a room people admired but didn’t touch, he decided.

“It’s beautiful. Looks like a vacation rental.”

“I think it may have been. I took it for six months.”

Her gaze sharpened. “Six months? Will your business be finished in another three?”

“If not, I’ll need to renew. Come, the bedroom’s this way.”

He led the way up the curving staircase to the loft. Mia went with him readily, though he kept expecting her to balk, for the impulse to wear thin and the reality to come crashing in. Her breathing stayed steady, but her hand sweated in his, revealing her nerves.

The bedroom was enormous, dominated by a king-sized bed. Though he hadn’t expected ever to bring a woman here, he couldn’t resist the decadence. The linens were snowy white against the latticed cherrywood of the headboard. Here, he would bind her.

Here, he would take her.

Her eyes were wide and dark. “I like the décor. Very Zen.”

“I can’t take credit for it.” His voice went rough with raw lust. “Now then . . . if you meant what you said, Mia, take off your clothes.”

“But I thought—”

“All in good time. Before I complete my part of the bargain—and I
will
make you scream—I want a good-faith payment. Show me how brave you are. Strip.”

Her fingers went to the hem of her red sweater, and he thought his heart would stop.

Mia knew he
expected her to hesitate, but she was committed.

A sexy striptease was beyond her, so she simply tugged the sweater over her head in what she hoped was a smooth motion. She hated that she was wearing plain, utilitarian underwear—comfortable white cotton—but it wasn’t as if she’d expected anyone to see it. Typically, she didn’t get naked with someone unless they’d been dating awhile.

But she could do this. She could be spontaneous.

She shimmied out of her skirt. “This what you had in mind?”

“Getting there,” he said huskily.

She took that to mean he wanted her entirely naked, so she stripped out of her nylons and bra, which left her standing in white panties. The room was just cool enough to bring her nipples to a point. She tried not to feel self-conscious, not to let his distance kill the desire buzzing in her veins. She suspected he was trying to do just that, make her reconsider this encounter, but it had become a point of pride.

His hands fisted at his sides, as if he might be restraining the urge to reach for her, discarding all of his sensual games. Mia read his admiration in the taut lines of his body. That evidence reassured her more than words or empty gestures. Nobody had ever gazed at her with such single-minded heat.

It emboldened her, allowing her to exhibit a confidence she didn’t feel. He had been right about that much, as he’d been right about
too
much. If she had any common sense, she’d run away from him as fast as her feet would carry her. Instead, he acted as a lodestone magnetized to match her personal electrical charge. Mia straightened her shoulders, not a sexy pose so much as a challenging one.

“How am I doing?”

He stepped forward, walking in a circle about her. “Good. Better than good.”

“Really?” Mia gloried in the hunger of his expression. His blue-gray eyes darkened, his mouth tight with repressed longing. She’d finally cracked him, and delight in his intensity careened through her veins.

“You’re magnificent. I’ve been thinking about this since I saw you at the casino.”

“You have a strange way of showing it,” she muttered. “I would have—”

“Lie down.” Taking her hand, he tugged her toward the bed.

Her heart thumping wildly, she did. She watched while he drew a red cord out of the night table. It felt slick and silky against her skin. He let her feel the texture, giving her an opportunity to object, and when she said nothing, he bound her carefully to the lattices of his headboard. Unable to help herself, she gave an experimental tug, and while the rope didn’t hurt, neither could she get away.

It should have evoked bad memories, terrifying memories. And for a moment, it did. Her heart hammered in her ears. But she fought past it, refusing to let that other occasion tarnish this one.

“Yours to do with as you will?” she asked.

“For tonight,” he answered in a low growl. “I’m not going to bind your ankles. I want to leave you room to dig your heels into the bed. There’s nothing sexier than a woman arched into a bow.”

Mia found it hard to picture. In the past, her orgasms had been quiet—no writhing, no arching, and certainly no screaming. She’d thought Mark was right; she just wasn’t the type for reckless abandon. But with Strong standing beside the bed, voracious gaze running up and down her body, she was already wet. She could feel her juices on the cotton gusset of her panties.

Deliberately, she spread her legs and showed him. “Leave the lights on.”

His breath went in a rush. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

While Mia watched, he undressed for her. Previously, she’d never have called the art of disrobing foreplay, but he made it so. He removed each article of clothing with a languid grace that made her stir restively on the bed. Most men were diminished by nudity, but instead, his compact lines gained definition. He had a swimmer’s build—all taut muscle and etched strength. How she wished she could sink her teeth into his stomach.

Unlike her, he didn’t leave anything on. His boxers slid down his hips last, revealing a long, lovely cock. For the first time, Mia understood the power of denial. She wanted to reach out and grab him, and she couldn’t. He was temptation incarnate.

“You’re beautiful,” she breathed.

He stilled, obviously drinking in the pleasure of her admiration. As her gaze eased down, his penis jumped as if she’d touched him. Mia smiled.

“You’ve no idea what you do to me.”

“Will you turn so I can see the rest? If you won’t let me touch, at least let me look.”

She thought he’d refuse. He considered the matter too long, and then he spun, tense as a coiled spring. There was no reason for it, no cause for his tension—until she saw his left side. And then she understood.

“How?” she asked quietly.

“Car accident.” He wasn’t going to say more. No point in asking. But the fine web of scars made her ache at the evidence of his pain.

Naked and wildly aroused, he prowled toward her. None of her prior sexual experiences had prepared her for this, so she didn’t know what he would do first. To her surprise, he lay down beside her, set a palm against her cheek, and turned her face toward him. He started with a slow, languorous kiss that melted her bones—and there was no flicker at all. Just him.

She gazed at him dreamily when he finally broke away and tugged on her bonds. “Why do you prefer sex like this?”

His jaw clenched. “Because I don’t want my partner thinking of someone else. I don’t kiss anyone else, Mia. You’re special.”

“So if you minimize contact and don’t kiss, they stay in the moment with you?”

“Mostly. The weight of their expectation still colors the encounter, but at least they don’t lose sight of me entirely.”

“But I’m different,” she said softly. “I see you.”

He placed his palm on her bare belly, fingers skimming down toward her panties. His eyes were like dark rocks, illuminated by jagged streaks of lightning. “I know. But if I let you touch me even once, it will be too hard to give it up.”

“Why must you?” Even though she’d demanded just one night, she had the awful feeling he meant something else.

“No questions, one night only. That was the deal.”

She didn’t remember agreeing to that, but when his mouth followed his fingers, grazing her lower abdomen, she forgot her curiosity. He licked along the waistband of her panties, alternating with his teeth. Tiny nips added a layer of sensual enticement to the hot swirl of his tongue. Genius, in the placement—she wanted him desperately to move up and down at the same time. She craved his mouth on her breasts and between her thighs, too.

It seemed like hours that he nuzzled her stomach, endlessly patient while her excitement grew. He worked up to the curve of her breast and then back down. His mouth moved over her rib cage, teeth grazing the soft skin of her abdomen. He already had her writhing, twisting against her bonds. The helplessness maddened her.

Somehow he managed to shift upward without ever giving her the satisfaction of touching her breasts. His lips found the curve of her throat. He nuzzled her pulse, devoted his mouth to an exploration of her neck. He bit down gently and then kissed upward to her ear.
Oh, God, my ear—

He found the sweet spot just behind it. Unable to stay still, Mia bucked her hips, and her panties became an erotic torment. If she shifted her pelvis side to side, the wet fabric provided friction against her clit, so she seesawed, frantic and aroused, while he made love to her neck. He spent long, delicious moments there, licking the tender line. Warm breath fanned over her sensitive skin.

Her nipples were so hard they hurt. Butterfly kisses feathered downward. She wanted to run her fingers through his sun-streaked hair, but the cords brought her up short. No reciprocation. He had total control. When his mouth finally closed over the tip of her breast, she cried out. He pulled the flesh taut and laved with his tongue. Heat spiraled from his mouth. He palmed her breast, massaging with a light, teasing touch, but she wanted—needed—more.

“Harder,” she pleaded.

In answer, he bit, and pleasure-pain sparked her nerve endings. At last he began to suck, fingers stealing toward her thighs.
Lower. Lower.
The heel of his hand settled at the top of her cotton-covered mound. He pressed down lightly, abrading her clitoris.

Mia dug her heels into the bed, lifting her hips. His lips worked her breast, bringing her closer and closer to orgasm. Little whines escaped her, helpless sounds, pleading sounds. She lost track of what she said, but she knew she begged.

The world narrowed to his mouth and his hands.

He had her
exactly where he wanted her.

God, she smelled good, like cinnamon and vanilla, wholesome and tempting. Her restive movements made it a bit difficult to work the panties down her hips, but when she realized his goal, she raised her ass off the mattress. He balled the white cotton up and flung it away. Another man might’ve been disappointed by her lack of satin and lace.

Not him. Her underwear meant she hadn’t planned this encounter. It meant she’d wanted him badly enough to act on impulse, against all her instincts. Given how long it had been since he’d been with anyone who knew him, it was worth everything.

He didn’t care what tonight cost him; she would be worth it.

For a long moment, he simply gazed at her. He almost couldn’t believe she’d given him the right to do anything he wanted. His hands trembled as he parted her thighs, so slim and graceful. Against the cool white sheets, her skin glowed with amber warmth. He loved the hue of her, the raven spill of her hair.

He nuzzled the tender skin of her inner thighs, using his teeth as a counterpoint. She cried out, arching up as he’d wanted. Her labia gleamed wet, only a whisper away as he worked his way upward. It had been so long since he’d tasted a woman, so long since he’d had anything but anonymous release.

But he’d promised himself he would savor her. Mia was the best part of his half life, and he was determined to emblazon himself on her memory with this one night. Setting his fingers against her outer lips, whisper light, he began a gentle massage, working her body open with his fingertips. Wetness glimmered on her folds, broadcasting her excitement. When he reached the top of her cleft, he found her clit ready for attention.

She was so primed.

Still, he stroked her, rubbing her juices in a sweet circle around the tender bud. Her breath came in soft sobs, her hips jerking with each delicate caress. He teased her with a sliver of penetration before easing his hand away. She tried to follow, tugging helplessly on the cord. If she had any idea what the sight of her did to him—God, he felt almost sick with lust, and he was shaking, afraid of what he’d do once he got inside her.

“Now,” she begged. “Oh, God, now. Do it.”

When he finally buried his face between her legs, she screamed, just as he’d promised. Out here, there was no one to hear her, no one to mind. He licked her in long, lazy motions.
Delicious.
She tasted sweeter than he could’ve ever imagined—and he’d thought about this a lot.