Power and Possession(47)

She laughed; the contradictory, beguiling, playful man who charmed so easily was back. “As if it matters what I mind.”

“It does,” he said quietly. “It matters a lot.”

She gazed up at his strong jaw and fine straight nose, at the stark beauty of this man she found irresistible. Her chest constricted briefly and she knew how foolish it was to fall under his spell. Like being infatuated with a cinema star. “You don’t have to say that. I have no expectations.”

As though streaming the same strange, emotional vibe, he looked at her in mild disbelief, then sighed. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted badly. It offends me. It pleases me. It fucks me up.” He smiled. “In a good way. In a don’t-wake-me-up-if-I’m-dreaming way.”

She gave him a little bunny twitch of her nose in wordless agreement. “Sometimes I think this is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. Just because I’m way the hell outside my comfort zone,” she quickly added at his sudden scowl. “Not because of you. In fact, I may not leave quietly when you tire of me. Just a warning.” She looked at him calmly, neither helpless nor insecure. She never had been.

His dark brows came together in a brief pensive moment—turning her comment and it’s repercussions over in his mind. “Then we understand each other,” he said, his expression clearing, his gaze direct. “Because you won’t be leaving.”

Her mouth quirked. “This from a man with an ice cube policy?”

“I’m accountable to no one.” For a second, coolness darkened his eyes, then he blinked and smiled. “That’s my warning to you.”

Cocooned in a warm, sumptuous euphoria, she dismissed that momentary chill in his eyes and lazily stretched. “Have I mentioned how pleased I am to be here?”

“Not as pleased as I, tiger.” She was all female softness and willingness lying on his bed, tempting as Eve. He imagined winning the lottery felt like this. “Rest five minutes if you need to, otherwise”—he swept a hand toward his rampant erection and gave her a killer smile—“we’re ready.”





Chapter 14


“Actually, give me a minute,” he said, and rolled off the bed. “I’ll get some towels.”

As he walked away, she watched him just like a teenager with a crush. Funny, because she’d never experienced a wild fascination like that in school. Better late than never, she cheerfully decided, feeling the bewilderment and obsession, the wonder and thrill—taking pleasure in the sight of Rafe’s tall, athletic form, his powerful muscle and stark virility, his dark, sleek hair lightly brushing his shoulders as he moved with an easy grace.

Crossing the threshold of his dressing room, he spoke without turning. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Then he disappeared from sight.

“And no touching your pussy.”

Jerking back her hand, she looked up, expecting to see him since she had heard his voice so clearly. No; she was alone. But his curt command had sent another lustful shudder rippling through her senses, ratcheted up the throbbing between her legs, and made her question the human powers of speech when Rafe’s words alone could turn her into a desperate, sexified mess.

“Are you being good?”

His voice rang out over the sound of running water and she briefly debated the necessity of compliance. “Depends what you mean by good,” she shouted back, taking a personal stand for female power. The bathroom lay beyond his dressing room. How would he know? What could he do if he did know? Fuck him.

Or not.

She hesitated, weighing her current cravings against the merits of waiting for Rafe to more substantively assuage her. Meanwhile, her warming passions were morphing into a frantic ache, the echo of his provocative orders reverberating through every erogenous zone in her body. Fretful and restless, in an uneasy limbo with personal independence and pleasure at odds, she tersely swore, then rolled over on her stomach, cupped her pussy in her palms, and flexed her hips into the mattress.

Her low moan was whisper soft.

Yet of conspicuous significance to the man walking into the bedroom.

“I’m back just in time I see,” Rafe said with a grin, tossing the towels on the bed. “Hands where I can see them. Now.”

The soft hint of a reprimand in his voice shouldn’t make her cream her pussy, nor incite an almost unbearable horniness. Or conversely—mess with her head, when acquiescing would set precedents she didn’t want to set.

“I can help you.” His voice was silken, assured, as if he were witness to her internal debate. “All you have to do is move your hands where I can see them. There you go… that’s the way.”