I believe I have walked into a trap of my own doing.

Fuck.

Now I’m at his mercy.

I crane my neck up at the ropes as he ties them around my wrists and secures them to the bedposts. I am completely naked right now. Washed clean from my night behind bars in the full-length Jacuzzi tub that Malcolm made me bathe in a while ago. He moves to the foot of the bed. It’s unsettling the way he stands there, just raking his eyes down my body. I wish I could free one arm and slap that smug grin from the arrogant bastard’s face.

It can’t be later than eleven in the morning. I look around the large bedroom. If the blinds were open, the sun streaming in through the bay windows on these neutral tans and browns could make this space quite bright. The mental distraction is not working. What I need to do is face the facts. I’m supposed to be one of the brightest up and coming legal minds Columbia University has had grace its hallways in years. Yet here I am, with my legs spread wide, about to get my ankles tied to each side of the bed. Because I let some cocky billionaire outsmart me.

No, he didn’t outsmart me. I fooled myself.

I’m the one who set this chain of events in motion. My flawed line of thinking compelled me to get down on my knees and up against a wall two nights ago. Every brain cell in my skull is working overtime. Their combined effort is trying to piece together how I can concoct such a scheme and believe it is absolutely brilliant one day, but realize it’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever done only two days later. I’m reminded of my twenty-first birthday where some friends and I traveled to Las Vegas. I’ve suddenly unseated that incident. That time, I got shitfaced drunk and woke up married to a male stripper because I thought he said that he worked for Greenpeace when really, he did a stint on the Strip as a half-naked Green Lantern street performer. I had to phone home for annulment money, which was pretty damned embarrassing. Sleeping with Malcolm Alexander and revealing my name the night before I engage in eco-environmental disobedience is far worse. It’s humiliating to know that ultimately, I am responsible for everything that’s about to happen to me.

The sensation of being tied down makes me uneasy. I want to sit up and bolt, but Malcolm takes one sharp look at me, and it’s as though he reads my mind. A second later, his strong hands are on my shoulders, pressing me into the bed.

“Take a few deep breaths and relax,” he whispers a few inches away from my face. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself on these ropes.”

“Like you give a shit,” I grumble, but my throat releases a breathy moan after the words.

My body betrays the lust that is expanding from my core. I want to shake myself out of it. I’m not supposed to enjoy being here against my will. Yet, heat pools between my legs, my nipples are as hard as pebbles, and everywhere his skin touches mine sends me reeling as he ties me to the bed.

“Contrary to popular opinion, I do. Please, stop fighting against these bindings. You’re not going anywhere for a while. You may as well relax.”

“I should grin and bear it, huh?” I ask.

“More like moan and enjoy it to the point where you scream my name, gingersnap.”

He slowly glides the back of his hand down my cheek. I should be pulling away, giving him hell, and resisting. I’m not, though. He’s done something to my will, and my body is so weak, I can’t resist the physical contact. The anger rises in me and makes it worse, heating my cheeks as it adds to my irritation.

“I’m not going to enjoy this,” I breathe out the mantra, hoping it will wake up my subconscious and make it so. I glare up at him, wishing to God that my eyes are as resolute as my words. “I won’t.”

“You sure about that?” he asks, eyes wide.

“I’m telling you that I w—” I start off speaking, but my sentence morphs into a moan as his hand wanders down my neck and comes to rest at the top of my breasts.

“Come again? I don’t think I got what you were about to say.”

“Fuck you,” I manage to say, but even as I utter the words, my torso is inching upward to help his fingers make contact with my nipples.

He nods his head at me. “You’ll get your chance soon enough.”

My breath catches as Malcolm leans forward. His mouth closes in on mine. He laces his fingers through my hair, and just as I think he’ll kiss me, his head dips down and captures my nipple between his teeth. The wet, heated touch is so unexpected that I arch my back to feed him more of my breast. I’m loving his touch and hating myself for needing more. My body trembles with need. I’m appalled that such minor contact can send such powerful waves of heat through me.

Without releasing my nipple, he stares up at me, deep blue eyes even darker than they were a few minutes ago. His hand slides down my stomach, stopping at my mound. He sucks my nipple into his mouth, using his tongue to circle around the edge as his fingers match the movement at my center. His deft fingers travel up along my folds, flicking my clit, back down and starting all over again. I have zero control of my hips as they buck and lift off the bed in response. I don’t even try to bite back the whimpers leaving the back of my throat.

He presses two fingers past my folds. The jolt of pleasure damn near blinds me. I roll my hips to feel him deeper inside. With no warning, he removes his fingers and lifts off of my nipple. His fingers that were just inside me rise to his lips. He breathes in my scent and licks his fingers, taunting me.

“You’re sweeter than the last time,” he says, getting to his feet. “Must be revenge.”

Malcolm is only gone for a few moments, and returns with a blindfold, which he places over my eyes. The heat of his hands and his silent breath tickle my skin as he whispers that he plans to stretch out every moment.

The weight of his hand presses down into the mattress. All I hear next is, “I’ll be back in a while.”