CHAPTER TEN

Somehow, Steele got through the door of my hotel room. Could’ve been the three shots and two glasses of wine at the bar, or maybe that smile. Damn, he’d titillate any disciplined, broken-hearted celibate. At least, he’s on the sofa and not on the bed that’s, oh, I don’t know, about five feet away. My eyes flash to it. No! Do not look at the bed. Look at him. Keep your eyes on the prize. No! Not the prize! The enemy! The sexy, rockin’ hard bod and low, stop and listen to my voice …

Our eyes connect. Mistake.

“Do you want something to drink?” I pad over to the small refrigerator, glad to be free of my three-inch heels and Steele Kane’s eyes. I open the door. Dammit. “Or some wine?” I glance over at my preferred drink of the month, desperately needing a glass … or two.

Better not. I’m still a bit tipsy from earlier. Any more alcohol and I might close the door on my good judgment.

“No. Maybe just some water?”

“I got that.” I pull a bottle from the fridge, close the door, and hand it to him, keeping my gaze level on his chest—the third button undone on his shirt, to be exact. His skin doesn’t appear overly hairy. It’s tan and smooth … no doubt, soft and …

“Thanks.” The sound of his voice snaps my eyes back to his.

“You’re welcome.” I smile, heat rushing to my cheeks. “Your brother’s good.”

“Yeah,” he says, after taking a healthy gulp of water.

“I like Nix too. You didn’t tell me you had a niece,” I say, wringing my hands as he sets the water bottle on the table and stands up. “And Jaggs, she’s, ah …”

“Different,” he finishes for me with a grin.

“Yes, that’s about right.” Breaths quickening and heart palpitating, I slide my feet back on the carpet as he moves toward me. “It’s too bad Crash couldn’t make it tonight. I⸺”

“Relax.” He touches my arm, causing the opposite effect.

“I’m relaxed,” I say, body rigid, eyes back to counting the shiny black buttons on his shirt.

“Really?” His low chuckle illuminates my lie. “You’re acting like you’re on the subway for the first time, watching for signs of danger. You know, I can get off this train whenever you want, Jay. Say the word and I’ll leave. Hey.” He taps me under the chin. I look up and am met by his calm demeanor. Why can’t I make his breaths quicken, make his heart palpitate, make him worry about what he’s going to wear to work, or make him think about me all the time, analyzing every interaction we have … “Is that what you want?”

“What?” I blink away the ridiculous thoughts. He’s not the type of guy to pine over any woman. “No. Not yet.” I rub the spot on my arm he just touched, not ready to be left alone in my hotel room. “I had fun tonight, thank you.”

A light flickers in his near black eyes. “It was good to see you laugh. You’re so serious at work.”

“I’m there to do a job.” How does he expect me to act while I’m trying to save idiots’ lives? Like really, don’t worry if the helicopter blade cuts off an arm, you got another one!

“Yes, but it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy what you’re doing.”

“What’s to enjoy? My job is to prevent you from killing yourself. Well, you know, prevent people in your occupation—”

“Ah, yes.” His head tilts back with another low chuckle. “We crazy assholes,” he teases with a hint of rarely heard Irish accent.

“Well, I guess you’re not all assholes.” I grin, his laughter freeing my tension. “Actually, you’re pretty good, thorough, and safe, and that makes my job a little easier. Still, I find myself holding my breath through most of your stunts.”

“Aww.” He touches his chest over his heart. “You don’t need to worry about me, boss. I’ve been doing this for over ten years.”

“I’m not worried about you.” Trying to save myself, I let another lie tumble from my loose lips.

“Right, ’cause that’d mean you might like me a wee bit.” He gestures with his fingers, squinting his left eye.

“I like you.” I smirk.

“I know you do.” His brows flick. “You’re always calling me over at work and touching me whenever you get the chance, whether it’s to fix a harness strap or just brush against my body while showing me something. I see you looking at me too. You try to look away, but I catch you, boss. I know you’re not ready to take me for a spin around the block or anything, but you wanna do more than brush an extremity against me.” His eyes drop to my mouth.

I glare up at him and his truth. “How did we go from me liking you to me taking you for a ride?”

“Hey.” He shrugs, that boyish grin eating away at me from the inside out. “I call it like I see it. Can you honestly say in the past few weeks that you haven’t thought about it?”

“No.” I glance at my feet. “I’ve thought about it.” I look up, and what the hell. “I think about you.”

Surprise pops his eyes wide open, then acceptance hijacks his stunned face. “You don’t need to fear me.”

“I’m not afraid of you. I’m just”⸺oh my God, I’m twirling my hair⸺“a little rusty.” I drop my hand.

“No need to worry about that, Miss Rigsby. I’ll oil you up, and then, nice and slow, I’ll take my time rubbing that rust off your beautiful body,” he says, his cute, boyish grin turning wolfishly dark and erotic.

“Well, I’m not sure that I’m ready for any of that.” I swirl my finger at his proposing face.

He stares at me for a few seconds, reaches into his pocket, and holds out his fist. “Here.” He shakes his arm like he’s handing me something irresistible. “Take it.”

Curious, I slowly put my hand out, open my palm, and a soft black material falls into it. It’s my stocking, the one he removed from my leg at the hospital. I look at it, then up at him. He holds his arms out and brings his wrists together. “Tie me up and feel me, Jay. Touch as much as want. Stop whenever you want. I promise, I won’t touch you. You’ll be in complete control.”

Eyes blazing at his surrender, I bite my bottom lip. God, how I’ve wanted to touch him. I’ve imagined it but been too afraid he’d want to touch me back. What would I do then? Freak out, run, or, worse, want him to touch me more? With his hands bound, it eliminates any of those outcomes. Still, it’s dangerous, and I’m not a risk taker. At least, I haven’t been for the past three years.

I like living inside my cushy comfort zone. The padding is thick, and I can’t get hurt in here.

He gave me permission before to use him for sex, and I know that’s what he’s offering now, but I’ve never been with a man other than Trevor. I’ve never had sex with a man who I wasn’t in love with or committed to, for that matter, so I don’t know if I can do it.

“Look at me,” he says, and I find his dark eyes waiting on me just as the rest of his body. He holds up his hands. “Don’t think about it, just do it. Tie me up.” His husky tone curbs my reservations, and I raise my hands. “Yes,” he says, watching as my shaky fingers start to wrap the stocking around his wrists. After I tie the knot tight, he tries to pull his hands apart. “That’s good.” He steps back, reaches the bed, and holding my eyes just about as tightly as the knot around his wrists, he sits down on the bed. “Come here.” He tilts his head to the side. “Let’s start with a little kiss.”

I walk over and wedge my body between his open legs. “I thought,” I press my hips forward, his tied hands pressing against my pussy, “I was in control,” I say, fully aware of the warm burst of wetness between my thighs.

“You are.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. They’re filled with something else; a painful eagerness to please me, and knowing he’s aching just as much as I am somehow calms me.

Before I change my mind and run and hide in the bathroom, I unbutton the rest of his shirt and push it from his broad shoulders. Frequently reminding myself to breathe as I follow the outline of his body, I’m riveted by the tan flesh covering the muscles on his impressive tattooed chest. I roll my fingertips, debating where I want to touch first—lips, neck, shoulders, chest, sides, or maybe, I’ll start at the tiny hairline that disappears into his pants. No, that’s where I’m going to finish, right there. I’m going no further than that little tempting line.

I drag my eyes back up and stop at his partially opened mouth.

“What do you want, Jay?” His thick, heavy, destitute voice charges me.

“I want to touch you here.” I lift my hand and run the pads of my fingers over his mouth. His soft, slightly fuller bottom lip doesn’t want to let go. My fingers stutter across his warm flesh, separating his mouth even more. I don’t dare look in his eyes. He’ll see me, see my desire, detect my failing discipline, and he’ll know if we continue with this game, if he pushes me, I might take him up on his offer. I may surrender. I slide my hand along his smooth chin, reach around his neck, and sift my fingers into his thick hair, yanking his head back.

“Yes,” he half-hisses and half-growls. The abandoned sound pumps more liquid warmth from between my legs. I lean forward, and eyes fixed on his neck, I press my cheek against his. I inhale his masculine scent. With the pins that lock my knees about to fall out, I clutch tighter to his hair and skim my quivering lips over his heated flesh. I breathe lightly into his ear and allow the warm air from my lips to brush against his neck, shoulder, and chest as I continue to tease myself, getting near enough to graze him but not near enough to completely feel him.

“Closer,” he says without moving a single muscle.

If I touch him, if I allow my body to respond to his, it will weaken me and empower him.

“No, not yet,” I reply, recalling him doing the same when we were about to kiss before. The refusal felt more like restraint, and it excited me. I release his hair and let my hand gradually roll down his hunky chest. It takes everything not to play with the tiny tempting thin line that disappears into his pants. Instead, I pull his shirt back up over his broad shoulders and rebutton it. “But thank you.” I tap his chest, holding my hand against his skin until every scent and touch absorbs into me. Ready to separate myself from his body, I’m prepared to be left alone in my room yet again, so I take a step back.

He stands. I watch as he takes his time untangling his wrists from the stocking before he shoves it back into his pocket. “You’re welcome,” he finally says, the sincere tone snapping my eyes to his. “This was a good start, Jay. You keep thinking of me as a stunt, feel me, eventually trust me, and then, when you’re ready, you can try me out.”

“You want me to see you as a stunt?”

“If it helps, yes. I don’t want you to worry about your feelings or mine. I don’t want you to let anything get in the way. I want you to view me as a challenge, something you want to take and overcome.”

“Is that what I am to you? A stunt? A challenge?”

“Just now, the way you made me feel while you barely touched me, yes. Not throwing you down on that bed and taking you hard, that’s an extreme challenge to me. Every look you toss my way, you dare me to react to the hunger I see in your eyes, but you’re not like any other stunt.” His eyes triangulate my face. “I can’t have you until you’re ready. But no matter how long I must wait …” He moves toward me, pausing beside me long enough to make my heart skip a few beats, before declaring, “I can assure you that I will have you, Miss Rigsby.”