Wicked Ties(47)

Like the air between them. Like the flesh he’d filled her with this morning.

Trembling, Morgan looked away and stared into her gumbo. She had to stop thinking

like this, with nothing but her hormones. But she couldn’t eat, all too aware of Jack’s

stare fixed on her as he held the whiskey bottle in his hand.

Morgan swallowed, feeling her pulse accelerate. “You’re staring at me.”

He inclined his head. “I am, cher.”

“All you can see is this overlarge bathrobe.”

Jack set the whiskey aside. Suddenly, she felt her chair being dragged along the

hardwood floors, closer to him. She looked down to find his foot hooked around the leg

as he pulled it beside his, right next to his heat and spice.

“Yeah, I’m staring. First, I’m male, and you’re a gorgeous woman. Second, I’m

wondering which of those outfits of teasing torture you decided to put on beneath my

robe. Third, I haven’t forgotten exactly what you feel like pulsing around my cock.”

Morgan sucked in air as desire slammed into her, leaving her short of breath. Clearly,

any restraint exhibited here would be up to her.

Not good news, since she didn’t have much.

He leaned down and nuzzled the sensitive skin below her ear. Morgan shivered as he

said, “You were slick and tight, cher. So amazing to fuck. You responded to my

commands like you were born to submit. Like it was so natural. I’ve thought about

nothing all day long except tying you down and spending morning, noon, and night

finding ways to make you come until you scream your throat raw, then beg for more.”

Blunt. Graphic. Unapologetic. His words should have been a turnoff. The feminist in

her thought she should be offended that he found her so purely sexual. She wasn’t that

lucky.

Jack was her mind’s nightmare—arrogant, demanding, difficult. But he was her

psyche’s fantasy—hot, untamed, determined to have her and force her to experience

every naughty fantasy her fevered mind had ever conjured up.

A fresh rush of moisture dampened her new thong and her clit began to ache anew.

Morgan closed her eyes. This had to stop. Had to. Or she was going to give in. She

wasn’t sure she could live with the repercussions—or herself—if she did.

“Jack, I’m interviewing you for a TV show about your lifestyle, not inviting you to tell

me every one of the thoughts lurking in the dark corners of your mind. If you can’t keep

it to yourself, you should take me back to my car. I—I’ll return to Houston and—”

“And wait for your stalker to find you? Rape you? Shoot you? Kill you? We’ve been

over this. You’re in the middle of a swamp and much safer here, surrounded by

sophisticated security systems and a bodyguard, than you are anywhere else. My buddy

Deke is putting together a profile. Once we have it, we can figure out who your psycho is

and nail him. Until then, I think you’d be wise to stay. Unless you’re more afraid of sex

than a stalker?”

Damn it, he’d picked the worst possible time to be logical. “Of course not. You’re just

making me uncomfortable.”

“The truth is making you uncomfortable; I’m merely making you aware of it. I want

you. You want me. It’s pretty simple.”

“It’s oversimplified, big boy.”

He grabbed the bottle of whiskey and took a long swallow. Morgan watched in

fascination as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his tight-muscled throat.

When it was empty, he set the bottle on the table. “You can’t lie, cher. Your eyes, they

tell me you want to be cuffed and clamped and fucked often. And you want me to be the

one doing it.”

Mind trying to outrace the desire searing her brain, she shook her head. “Look, we

both had an itch this morning and we scratched it. After, you ran as if I was diseased.

You couldn’t get away from me fast enough. If you hadn’t, I would have. We’re done

with each other.”

“You think, little girl? What we did, it was powerful, yeah,” he said, those dark eyes

boring into her, forcing her to listen, willing her to understand. “If I hadn’t left, I would have carried you to the bed, tied you down, and not let you up until I’d fucked all of your

perfect pink entrances and found each of your hidden sensitive spots and every way

possible to drive your body insane.”

Morgan gasped. That should not arouse her. The idea that he would have touched her

anywhere he pleased, demanded a blow job and, if she look him literally, anal sex,

absolutely shouldn’t make any part of her leap with excitement. Curiosity and wicked

fantasies were one thing. Actually indulging… No.