Skin Tight Page 8

  “I never liked playing make-believe,” she said unsteadily, fighting the urge to rock against him. “It’s better to accept things as they are.”

  Mia imagined the picture they presented to anyone glancing out the window: his body pinning her against the car and hers yielding. The idea of anyone witnessing this moment sent a rush of furtive desire cascading through her veins. Tiny pin-pricks of heat gathered at the lee of her legs, urging her to move.

  “Who did this to you?” he whispered tenderly. “What made you afraid of dreams?”

  Life, she wanted to say, but the answer sounded too sad to speak aloud. It seemed too close to self-pity; she loathed how easily he found her vulnerabilities. She stared up at him, sad and shaken, more naked than if he had stripped her and tied her to his bed.

  Somehow he read the truth in her face, and his mouth curved into a melancholy smile. “No wonder my curse cannot keep you. I should take you home with me, for who could match a man without a heart better than the woman who cannot dream?”

  The gentle gibe ignited her. Instead of shrinking back, she pressed into him. Mia stretched on tiptoes, her mouth a whisper from his. “Do you ever do anything but talk?”

  With the groan of a man tempted beyond endurance, he took her mouth. She expected the world to wink elsewhere again, but it didn’t. From the beginning, she tasted his lips, his need, and it kindled her own. Mia sank her hands into his hair. A little voice said this was ridiculous and self-destructive—she didn’t even know his real name—but she ignored it. This time, he didn’t offer the expertise she expected.

  Instead he kissed like he meant it.

  She parted her lips unasked and touched her tongue to his. In such circumstances she always found it difficult to shut off her mind, stop thinking about each movement, considering whether to arch or moan or suck. How did she know if she was doing it right?

  In response, he angled his head, deepening the kiss. He stroked inside her mouth, tasting her even as she tasted the cream and coffee on his palate. He moved his hips against hers, lazily, as if they had all the time in the world, as if they were completely private. Languor stole through her, carrying fire in its wake.

  And with that, her brain clicked off.

  Response took over. She writhed against him, shameless. His mouth blazed from her lips to her throat, where he bit down on the tender chord. Her nipples pricked to life, aching against the smooth satin of her bra. She wanted his long fingers on her breasts—and everywhere else.

  “God, you’re lovely,” he whispered against her throat. “With your midnight eyes and cinnamon skin. I could eat you up.”

  Images cascaded: her body bound to his bed as he’d wanted, utterly at his mercy.

  Mia moaned. She wanted to touch him, but she trembled too badly to make it happen. His right hand skimmed up to delve beneath her sweater, so hot in contrast with the coolness of the night. When his thumb grazed her taut nipple, she lost her breath. His other hand lingered at her waist, stroking in tender circles. Lower. But no, he was already there, rubbing against her until she yielded and widened her stance. Her skirt rucked up in the movement, baring her thighs.

  He could have anything he wanted, anything at all.

  Every instinct told him to pick her up and carry her to his car. She was his. For a long, aching moment, he envisioned her exactly as he wanted her—spread before him like a boundless feast. He imagined her pleasure, endless waves of it. He would taste every delectable inch of her skin, and she would cry out—

  Not his name.

  Never his name.

  That would require trust, a quality he no longer possessed, even if he wanted to bring her into the dark world where he lived. In fact, he didn’t. If he were the bastard he needed to be, he would use her sexual interest to further his cause. Part of him wanted to do exactly that, giving no thought to the wreckage he left behind.

  But beyond the confident façade, she was vulnerable. In her eyes he saw the belief that no man could truly want her, however incomprehensible that seemed. He must convince her it wasn’t lack of desire on his part causing him to walk away. He’d find another route through the security doors; for the first time, he’d lost his icy detachment, and he couldn’t calculate the odds if he took her home with him tonight.

  It took every ounce of his considerable self-control to open his hands and step away.

  She blinked up at him, deliciously tousled. Her full mouth was swollen from his kisses, and her dark eyes gleamed with longing. God, he’d never wanted anyone so much, which was a sure sign he had to walk away. He couldn’t afford her, not now, not ever.

  “Thank you, Mia. You’ve given me a precious gift.”

  He left her standing by her car, staring after him. He could feel her eyes on his back as if willing him to turn. But no. If he could turn from this path, he’d have done it long ago. There was nothing left—only the fires of vengeance guiding his steps in the dark.

  “No!” The word came first, sharply bitten. And then he heard her running. The shove took him completely by surprise. He stumbled a few steps before righting himself. Turning to face her, he was surprised by the black fury simmering in her. “You don’t get to pick me up and put me down like that. What makes you so special? Why do you get to call all the shots?”

  “I—”

  “I don’t care.” She slashed the air with an open hand. “You’re mad if you think I’m going to let you kiss me like that and then walk away. Now, unlock the damn car and drive.”

  To his astonishment, he did. Mouth set, she swung around the car and slid into the passenger’s seat. On automatic, he started the car and backed out of the spot. The road out of town beckoned, a dark line snaking through the trees.

  “Where to?” he asked over the purr of the engine.

  “You said you wanted to take me home and tie me up.”

  The words conjured a mental picture that sent a raw shudder through him. Even if he did, as with the women he paid for sexual relief, it would be different with Mia. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself from caressing her, kissing her. He’d lick every inch of her satiny skin, make her come a dozen times with his mouth alone.

  There would be no detachment, no distance.

  “I did say that,” he agreed huskily.

  “Prove it.”

  He glanced from the road to make sure she was saying what he thought she was. The look in her eyes set him on fire; it was both a goad and an invitation. Mia arched a brow, waiting for his response.

  He sucked in a deep breath. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. Take me home with you. I want to scream. I want to forget who I am. Can you give me that?”

  “Yes.” It was a bald statement, but his mouth had gone dry and his brain had emptied. He had no more schemes or stratagems, just this woman and this night.

  “Then do. We’ll be strangers or enemies—whatever we are—again in the morning, but give me this now. Just this once, I want to know what it’s like to be reckless.”

  She was quiet thereafter. He drove like a wild thing, all speed and risk. Darkness encompassed the car, but every now and then he glimpsed the sweet curve of her cheek or the glimmer of her eyes. Her hands were laced in her lap as if she might regret the impulse that had driven her, but it was too late for second thoughts. If she’d wanted to run, she should have done it when he walked away. There was no way he’d muster enough restraint to do it again before he had her.

  He’d rented a house this time. The real estate agent called it a cabin, but it had the open layout of a Swiss chalet. Rationalizing that it would befit his status, he’d snapped the place up. Now he couldn’t help but picture Mia spread out on the soft white rug in front of a roaring fire. Like a kid in a candy store, he didn’t know what he wanted more.

  “This is yours?” she asked in surprise as they pulled into the drive.

  “For now.”

  He took in her expression as she admired the graceful lines and the bi-level decks that framed
the exterior. Nestled amid the trees, the house was incredibly picturesque. But it was physically impossible for him to linger long. He ached.

  After bounding from the car, he ran around to get her door. It was the sort of thing drilled into him in his youth. Born of older parents, who were, as Mia had guessed, recent immigrants to the States, he had a number of instinctive manners uncommon to his generation. She glanced up at him in surprise, and then took his hand, allowing his assistance.

  “Do you ever stay in one place?”

  I will when they plant me. She inhaled sharply, and for a dizzy, devastated moment, he was afraid he’d spoken aloud. Mia turned her face up toward the pines. He’d grown used to the clean, crisp scent, but her appreciation was palpable.

  “No,” he said. “I can’t. Not until my work’s done.”

  Don’t ask, he willed her. Don’t make me lie to you.

  By some miracle, she didn’t. “Show me the inside.”

  Her expression made it clear what she really meant. She wanted to see the bedroom. There was nothing of him in it, but that didn’t matter. Mentally, he made preparations. He’d use the red cords on her, dramatic against her dark skin and the white cotton sheets.

  “As my lady desires.”

  He laced his fingers through hers and towed her toward the house. The inside smelled faintly of apples and cinnamon. Some prior tenant had purchased air fresheners; he hadn’t bothered to remove them. Glancing around, he tried to see the place as she would.

  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.”

  I didn’t expect to be here that long. I thought after everything I’d been through, this last part would be easy. But nothing ever goes according to plan. Not even you.

  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.

  CHAPTER 8

  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 c
oiled 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.