His expression darkened. “Four weeks?”

“Is that too long?” she asked anxiously.

He looked nonplussed. “No . . . maybe. I don’t know. I’ve never had a woman put it quite that way before. I didn’t expect you, of all people, to be so calculating.”

She gave him an apologetic glance. “I’m just protecting myself. This will keep my expectations in check.”

His brow knitted tighter together. “Does this have to do with what that asshole boyfriend of yours pulled on you?”

“No,” she said honestly.

“Why did you pick four weeks?”

“I remember my mother saying once that it took all of five weeks for the fire to leave my father’s eyes. I wouldn’t want to be around to witness yours going out,” she said simply.

“Jesus,” he muttered, his jaw going hard. He looked at the wall behind his desk. She could almost hear his mind churning. “I’ll be away a lot in the next few weeks. It won’t be enough time. Give me eight,” he finally said in a hard tone.

“No,” she whispered. “I’d get lost with that much time.”

He nostrils flared as he met her stare. “Six weeks then.”

She felt the pull of his powerful personality. She wanted to give in. “Five,” she bargained shakily. “Starting now. Today.”

His handsome mouth curled slightly in dissatisfaction. “All right, five. If you agree to spend some of the time with me in the South of France.”

“I don’t think I can. I have work—”

“We can make it happen,” he interrupted. Looking at his determined, rigid expression, she didn’t want to argue. Not now. “Just say yes,” he said.

“Yes,” Emma agreed, trying to ignore her uncertainties. It seemed so improbable, her being with him in the glamorous, gilded playground of the French Riviera. At the moment, all she could think about was how tense he looked. Was he upset by her proposal? She couldn’t tell for sure. She leaned down and kissed his lips, like she thought he was a statue she could magically bring to life. He became the aggressor, his hand sliding up to the back of her head, his mouth molding hers boldly. A thrill went through her at sensing all the frothing, repressed emotion in him, all the friction and heat.

He pulled her closer. It was wonderful to sink into the delight of his embrace, freeing somehow, now that they’d both spoken their minds.

Now that she’d set some parameters.

Five weeks, to touch him and luxuriate in his touch, to explore him . . . and herself.

“I want to do this. I want to take the risk,” she whispered next to his mouth a moment later. She felt him quicken and harden beneath her. He scored her with his stare.

“I’m going to make it five weeks you’ll never forget, starting now,” he promised before he pulled her against him, and covered her mouth with his own.

His kiss deepened and Emma drowned in its decadence, letting the heat of it wash away her anxieties and insecurities. He touched her while he made free with her mouth, his large hands running along her arms and squeezing her shoulders lightly. She felt his cock lurch beneath her bottom when he molded her flesh to his. One hand played along her spine. The other fisted the hem of her dress. He drew it up her thighs.

Despite his matter-of-fact manner, she started slightly, breaking their kiss, at the feeling of cool air and his warm knuckles sliding against the skin of her naked thighs.

“It’s all right,” he said thickly. The way he stared at her mouth, heavy-lidded, and trailed his blunt fingertips along the tender skin of her inner thigh made her heart jump into overtime. “I’m just going to keep kissing you,” he explained as he slipped his fingers beneath the elastic band of her panties. He tugged on them, and she lifted her bottom instinctively. He slipped the underwear down her thighs and over her knees. His hand returned, cupping her sex. She gasped.

“You’ve made out before, haven’t you?” he asked, his deep, seductive tone and small smile melting her almost as much as his hand warmly cupping her pussy.

She nodded, speechless.

One hand returned to the back of her head. He pulled her to him until their breaths mingled. “That’s all this is. Kissing. And I’m going to play with you a little. Just relax,” he growled before he kissed her coaxingly and moved his hand, slipping a thick finger between her labia.

She moaned into his mouth. How could she possibly relax when he was pressing and sliding his finger along her clit and melting her with his kiss? She tensed in his arms.

“Relax your muscles, Emma,” he ordered against her lips. “Let go. Just kissing. There’s nothing to get all worked up about.”

“Easy for you to say,” she mumbled incoherently because he’d continued to play with her pussy while he spoke. Masterfully. His touch was shockingly deft. He lifted his finger and then slid back into the cleft between her labia, pressing and rubbing against her clit. She bit her lip to stop her sharp cry and flexed her hips against the divine pressure. He pressed his lap upward slightly at her wiggling. She felt his cock press tighter to her and moaned.

“Sweet little pussy. Sweet little mouth,” he muttered thickly before he caught her lips again with his and began to devour her.

She couldn’t have said how long they remained like that on the couch, his hand moving between her thighs, his cock throbbing against her ass, his mouth enflaming and taming her at once, soothing her when her flame grew too high. She felt herself turning molten beneath his touch, and knew she was growing very wet by the increasingly easy glide of his finger. The burn in her clit became delicious and untenable several times. She clutched his shoulders and tried desperately to return his forceful kiss while climax loomed, but somehow, it never crashed down. It took her arousal-dazed brain a while to realize he was cooling his strokes on her clit subtly every time she approached climax, keeping her riding just below the crest of release. His other hand made soothing motions on her back; it was almost unbearably unexciting.

She broke their kiss and pressed her forehead to his, breathing raggedly. A fever raged in her. Her clit burned. Her nipples ached. She wished he’d pinch them. Suck them. Just the idea made her moan feverishly.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she whispered on a soughing breath.

He lifted his hand from her outer sex. He grasped her hips with both hands and ground her down on his cock. She whimpered, her arousal peaking once again. She leaned back and saw the hard glint in his eyes as he moved her in a tight circle against his cock.

“Because I want to take you into my bedroom now and restrain you—just your arms—while I continue to touch you,” he said. “And I didn’t want to see anxiety on your face. Just excitement. Are you all right with that?”

She nodded, her breath sticking in her lungs.

“All right then.” He pressed his lips to her warmly, and then sat forward, gathering her tightly into his arms. Emma made a little sound of surprise when he lurched up from the couch, bringing her with him.

The next thing she knew, he was carrying her across the threshold to his inner sanctum.

She had a flashing impression of a seating area surrounding a fireplace decorated with rich, luxurious fabrics in shades of muted red, dark brown, gold, and ivory. He set her down on her feet. When she turned to him, she realized he’d placed her at the foot of an enormous bed with a carved cherrywood headboard and four posters that must have been eight feet tall.

He walked to a mirrored door and opened it. When he disappeared, she craned to see him. He returned a moment later carrying a small box and . . . something that looked like cloth handcuffs attached to a black strap. The handcuffs were stitched very close together onto the length of tightly woven fabric.

“I’m going to tell you exactly what I plan to do, and if you choose not to participate in any part or all of it, just say so,” he said, walking toward her. She realized he’d probably noticed the uncertainty on her face when she’d seen those cuffs. He set the box on the bed and held up the black strap. “Go ahead and touch it,” he said quietly. She took the item and held it up to examine it while he unfastened the first two buttons of his dress shirt. “What do you think?” he asked.

“It’s very lightweight,” she said, trying to be objective even though her choppy breath betrayed her. She squeezed one of the cuffs. “And soft.”

“Metal handcuffs can bruise,” he said. “Especially in the heat of the moment. Your skin is pale and delicate. I’ll have to take extra care.”

She raised her brows and gave him an amused glance. He smiled and pointed at the tall bedpost. “I’m going to have you put your hands over your head, wrists together, and restrain you to the bedpost. Then I’m going touch you again. Any way I please, but for your pleasure.”

Any way I please, but for your pleasure.

She swallowed as his voice replayed in her head.

“I don’t understand,” she confessed, despite the sexual charge that had gone through at his stated intent. “Why do you have to restrain me? Isn’t touching me enough?”

“Oh, it’s more than enough,” he assured. “And if that’s what you’d like, you know what I’ve told you. Just tell me. I won’t be disappointed. Trust me. Do you believe me?”

She nodded.

“As for your question, maybe you should just find out for yourself why being restrained might have its advantages. For me, it’s because I have you at my mercy. You have to accept what I give you. On the other hand, everything you experience, all the anticipation and the pleasure, are mine. Mine to give. Yours to receive.” His eyes took on a feral glint.

“All right,” she said. “You can do it.”

“You haven’t heard the rest yet,” he said, his dark brows arching. “After you’re restrained, I’m going to put this inside you,” he said, lifting the box. He approached her and pointed at the photo on the box with his finger. “It’s a dual vibrator, very compact. One end goes inside you and the other buzzes your clit. It does its job so that I can touch you at my leisure,” he said, his deep voice dropping in volume and tickling her ear and nape. She nodded anxiously. She’d never used a vibrator before on her own, let alone with a man. It didn’t look too intimidating, however.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing at an item featured on the box.

“Remote-control mechanism. I’m going to set the vibrator at a low level,” he explained, opening the new package, “and you can hold the remote control.”

“I get to hold it?”

He nodded, watching her face as he withdrew the vibrator. “I’d rather do it myself. I told you I was selfish, and I have a feeling I’m going to be over-the-top selfish when it comes to owning your pleasure.” Something about the way he said it made her nipples pinch tight. What mysteries was she about to experience? “But I realize you need some control at first, and this is a way for you to have it. What do you think?”

She nodded. She was having extreme trouble controlling her breath. “And when I’m restrained, you’re just going to touch me?”

“Yes. My hand against your skin. That’s all. And you’re going to come,” he said bluntly. “Several times. Then I’m going to lay you on that bed and fuck the daylights out of you.”

He watched her closely, the corner of his gorgeous mouth tilting when he saw her amazement. Without telling herself to, her gaze flickered down the length of his body. The bulge in his crotch area was glaringly obvious. As she looked, she saw the thick crown of his cock flick against the denim. She looked up into his face quickly and saw his knowing smile. “I think I’ll take you in a straight-up missionary position, like Grandpa and Grandma did it,” he murmured intimately, a thread of humor in his tone. He reached for the bottom of her T-shirt. “It’s going to be fantastic. We’ll reinvent a classic.”

She laughed softly at that and had a glimpse of his grin widening. She appreciated his levity as both her anxiety and arousal escalated. His fingers moved along her back, and she realized he was unzipping her dress. It was strangely exciting, hearing him speak aloud what he planned to do to her. He moved so quickly and concisely that before she knew it, she stood before him wearing only a light pink bra-and-underwear set, her dress pooled around her feet.

She stepped out of her sandals and kicked them aside. She looked into his face as he reached around to unfasten her bra. His head was lowered and they stood close. She caught his male scent and resisted an urge to bury her nose in his cotton-covered chest. How could he smell and feel so good? Was it possible to become addicted to another human being?

The hook on her bra released, and he met her stare as he drew the straps over her shoulders and down her arms. Her clit pinched in acute arousal when she saw the heat in his blue-green eyes. When he slipped the straps over her hands and the bra fell to the floor, he caught her forearms and lifted both of them over her head.

“Stay like that,” he instructed huskily. His gaze lowered over her. “It’s the first time I’ve ever seen you in good light.” He opened his hands on her ribs and swept them upward. With her arms above her head, her skin was pulled tight. She shivered at the sensation of his whisking hands. He cupped her breasts from below and held them up for his inspection. It was lewd. Arousing.

She held her breath as he ate her up with his stare.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, running his large thumbs over the peaking crests. “I’m not going to get enough of these nipples. Look how tight they get, just from a touch. And the skin is so soft,” he said, his fingers moving ever so slightly on the mounds.

Heat rushed through her core. It wasn’t just his touch that burned her, it was his intent, focused lust.

She whimpered and he glanced up. Much to her disappointment, he dropped his warm hands. He turned to the bed and picked up the black strap and cuffs and held them up, a question in his eyes. She lowered her wrists, looking at his face for signs of what she should do.

“Like this,” he said, briefly putting his inner wrists together. She copied the movement, and he fastened the cuffs around her wrists. She fisted her hands and pulled experimentally at the restraints, freezing when arousal spiked through her unexpectedly. Vanni was in the process of tying off a loop at the top of the strap and paused when he sensed her stiffen.

“Are you okay?” he asked, brows pinched.

“Yes,” she said hastily, hoping he wouldn’t notice the pulse leaping at her throat.

He studied her face closely before resuming his task. “Come here,” he said quietly, pointing at the corner of the bed. She faced the post. “Arms straight and over your head.” She followed his instructions, lifting her arms and bound wrists. The position made her feel even more vulnerable than usual, pulling the skin tight along her ribs, leaving the sensitive sides of her torso exposed. He reached, tossing the small loop at the end of the strap around the top of the post. It came to rest several feet down the poster at the top of an especially fat newel in the carving. Looking up, Emma pulled. She was bound securely. She wasn’t even close to being tall enough to flip the loop off the post. Her heart suddenly beat so furiously, she felt as if there wasn’t room in her chest cavity both for it and her franticly working lungs.

“Shh, it’s okay. Easy,” Vanni soothed. He’d clearly noticed her sudden rush of anxiety. He stood close, his hands stroking her hips and her belly. The front of his pants barely brushed the skin of her hip, but the sensation distracted her completely. He was aroused—very—and that knowledge somehow evened the playing field. He was clearly turned on by the proceedings. That aroused her, in turn. She was vulnerable, yes, but his need was evident. He couldn’t remain aloof in this situation.

Slowly, she became focused on his caressing hands, absorbing how good it felt to have him enliven her skin and mold her curves gently. Her choppy breathing began to even under the spell of his touch. “Better? Or do you want me to unfasten you?” he asked after a moment. He was behind and to the side of her, his long legs lightly bracketing one hip, his head lowered so that his nose grazed against the shell of her ear. She turned her head, and suddenly his mouth brushed against hers. Shivers roughened her flesh. He charted them with his fingertips.

“No,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his. “I want to continue.”

She felt his smile on her lips, and then he was kissing her deeply, his hands sliding over her hips and belly and ribs. Her anxiety evaporated from the rising heat. By the time he touched her nipples with questing fingertips and cupped her breasts in his hands, Emma wouldn’t have been surprised if she was steaming.

He broke their kiss and moved behind her. This time, her anxiety at not seeing him seemed to spice her arousal instead of interfere with it. He stood behind her and cupped her breasts from below, massaging and shaping them.

“Oh,” she cried out sharply when he pinched both nipples at once lightly, but firmly. Arousal tore through her, stabbing at her clit. She flinched inward slightly at the sensation, squeezing her thighs and buttocks together to contain the ache.

“Do you like that?” he asked from behind her, continuing to pinch her nipples with finesse.

“It hurts,” she said in a strangled voice. His fingers stopped their plucking.

“On your nipples?”

“No,” she gasped. “Between my legs.”

He cursed harshly and reached for her panties, drawing them down her thighs.