Tie Me Down

“What?” she asked, every part of her trembling with the need for release.

“Promise me you won’t walk out like that again—without so much as a note.” His teeth sunk into her shoulder, hard, and she screamed as pleasure shot through her.

“Genevieve,” he prompted, his tongue tenderly licking away the bite marks.

“I won’t!” She gave in abruptly, too strung out to fight him anymore. “I’ll tell you next time.”

Abruptly he lifted his head, stared at her with eyes that glowed red in the twilight shadows. “Thank you.”

Before she could figure out how to answer, the hand resting on her stomach moved. Slid inside the waistband of her pants and found her sex. Hot, wet, aching.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He slipped one long finger inside her, curved it so he touched her G-spot with the first stroke. Then pulled back and did it again and again. On the fifth stroke of his finger she started to come, wave after wave of sensation swamping her.

He moved his thumb, circled it around her throbbing clit. Once, twice. She glanced up and into his obsidian eyes and shot over a higher, steeper edge, her body completely out of her control as ecstasy whipped through her nerve endings. Her muscles spasmed, clutched at him, wanting to take him deeper and deeper inside her until the pleasure was all-consuming, never-ending.

Cole held her through it, swallowing her cries with his mouth as his fingers continued to work her, controlling her response. Taking her higher. When she couldn’t take it anymore, when her body was so stressed out and sensitive that she was almost at breaking point, she jerked her mouth from his. Laid her head on his broad shoulder and gasped, “No more, Cole. Please, no more.”

“There’s always more, Genevieve.” But he slid his finger slowly out of her, pausing to stroke her labia once, twice. She whimpered, arched against him, so exhausted and shaken that she could barely move.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” He murmured the words against her forehead. “I’ve got you.”

A part of her wanted to argue, but any protest she made would seem pretty stupid, as his arms were the only things keeping her ass from hitting the ground. God knew her legs didn’t stand a chance of supporting her.

Slowly, so slowly it was yet another kind of foreplay, he slid her down his wet, denim-covered legs. Held her against him when her feet hit the ground and her knees wobbled. Then he leaned over, brushed her lips in a kiss sweeter and softer than she ever could have imagined.

“Let me come home with you,” he whispered, running a hand through her tangled curls. “Let me love you.”

A million arguments entered her mind, a million reasons why bringing him home was a bad idea. But as the rain continued to fall, its cool caress touching her everywhere she wanted Cole to, she answered with the only word her aroused brain was capable of forming. “Yes.”

His answering grin lit up the dark alley in a way no lightning strike could.

Chapter Six

Later, he would remember little of their walk home. He’d have no recollection of the wind whipping past their soaking bodies, no memory of the rain lashing against their sensitive skin.

But he would remember Genevieve and the way her body fit so perfectly against his own. He would remember the brush of her breast against his torso, and the lush softness of her ass under his hand as he tucked her smaller body into his.

And he would remember that first moment when she stepped over the threshold and invited him into her home. Nothing had ever felt quite so right.

Cole’s instincts were screaming at him, his desire to take Genevieve turning him nearly rabid with unfulfilled need. But she looked so dreamy, so sweet, that he found himself going slowly—despite the pounding in his brain telling him to take, take, take.

He took a deep breath—trying to control himself—but her scent was everywhere. A mixture of honeysuckle and summer and dark, delicious night. It turned him inside out.

But still, he was determined to give her sweetness as well as passion, to give her tenderness as well as desperation. Taking her hand, he brought it to his mouth. Brushed his lips over her knuckles before he turned it over and studied the delicate-looking palm.

“You have such small hands for such a capable person.”

“They get the job done.” Her voice was low, breathless, turning the mundane words into an erotic invitation—one Cole had no chance of refusing.

Lowering his head, he stroked his tongue from her wrist to the top of her palm, lingering for long moments over her chained and broken love line as he licked the raindrops from her skin. She gasped, went perfectly still. And for a moment—just a moment—she was soft and pliant, her body his to command.

He pulled her against him, savored the feel of her soft, lush curves against the hard planes of his own body. Then her arms were around him, pulling him to her, and everything he wanted to say simply faded away as desire—harsh and all-consuming—took over.

He kicked the door closed behind him and took her mouth in an assault that was at once brutal and gentle. Brutal in its intensity and focus; gentle in its execution. With a sigh, Genevieve parted her lips, allowing herself to melt into Cole despite the voice at the back of her head telling her she was making a very large mistake.

But he felt so good against her, their wet clothes only a weak barrier between them. She pressed herself more fully against him and his tongue swept over her lips, exploring every part of them—of her.

Her knees trembled yet again, and she clutched the wet cotton of his undershirt in an effort to get closer. To remain upright.

He gasped his surprise, then pulled her more tightly against him, until she could feel every part of him pressed to every part of her. His arousal was hard as a brick against her stomach and she delighted in it. Moved restlessly in an effort to feel him more fully against her.

He accommodated her, shifted his strong hands until they were cupping her ass. And then he was lifting her, shaping her, molding her against him.

“Put your legs around me,” he growled against her lips, and she did. The pleasure—the sweet, soft, incredible pleasure that came from the movement—had her gasping in delight.

He took instant advantage, his tongue slipping between her parted lips with all the subtlety of a conquering army. But as he stroked it against the top of her mouth, ran it in one glancing caress over her own tongue, Genevieve couldn’t bring herself to care. Not when his invasion sent frissons of delight through her whole being.

She rocked against him, desperate to feel Cole deeper inside her. To have him anywhere and everywhere he could go. He made a low sound that was half laugh, half growl, and ripped his lips from hers.

“Fuck.” It was a curse, a prayer, a statement of intent, and she was more than willing to let him have his way.

“Cole,” she gasped, his name suddnely the only word she knew.

He bucked against her, his c**k growing harder still. Then he was kissing the corners of her mouth. She waited, lungs burning, body on the brink of an explosion, for him to continue.

But he was moving slowly, his tongue tracing every curve of her lips before he nibbled his way across her cheek, down her chin to her throat. She arched, tilting her head to the side to give him better access. Moaned as he licked at the pulse beating crazily at the hollow of her throat.

Heat sizzled along her nerve endings, burst into flames that seared her from the inside out. She pulled him closer, so close that she could feel his heart beating wildly beneath the firm muscles of his chest. So close that the fine sheen of sweat coating his throat mingled with her own.

Pushing against him, she ran her hands over his pecs. Toyed with his ni**les and reveled in the involuntary surge of his h*ps against hers. She lifted and lowered herself, riding the hard ridge of his erection as she would if there were no clothes between them.

He groaned deep in his chest and went from teasing to dominating in an instant. Claiming her, he bit her lower lip, sucked it between his teeth and brushed against it with his tongue. He delved deeply into her mouth, so deeply that she couldn’t remember what it was like to breathe without him there.

His tongue caressed hers, circling, playing, turning her inside out with each touch. He tasted so good—of lime and tequila and dark, sizzling passion—that she knew she’d crave the taste of him for the rest of her days.

“Cole,” she moaned again, sliding her hands up to the cool, wet silk of his hair. Tightening her fingers until she knew there was a pinprick of pain. Tightening them more until he erupted with a growl.

And then he was devouring her, his hands squeezing her ass while his denim-clad c**k slid back and forth between her thighs. His mouth was everywhere, everywhere, moving down her throat to nudge aside the neckline of the too-big shirt he’d taken off to cover her for the walk home—so he could trace his tongue over the swell of her br**sts. Nuzzling the curve of her breast as his tongue swept over her lace-covered nipple with small, velvet strokes that had her burning hotter than she ever had before.

She was on fire, her body aching and heavy and desperate for the feel of him within her. His fingers dipped beneath the drenched waistband of her pants, stroked her skin until all she could feel was him, all she could think of was him.

She was going to regret this in the morning, would hate that she’d let him have her so completely. But she needed him inside her, was desperate to feel his body slide between her bare thighs as he thrust into her again and again.

Cole’s teeth scraped against her nipple and she forgot her own name, let alone any reservations she had about being with him. She had never wanted anything the way she wanted him, her entire body tightening until the need to come was a screaming agony within her.

Her hands grabbed on to his shoulders and urged him closer. Urged him to take them all the way. His laugh, low and seductive, brushed against her painfully hard nipple right before he pulled it into his mouth and began to suck.

She moaned, arched her back. Pressed her breast more firmly against his mouth.

“Take me,” she murmured, as he skimmed light hands up her arms, over her back. She was adrift, all of her concentration focused on this man and his carefully controlled caresses. “Please take me.”

The words were out before she could stop them, a plea she hadn’t known she was going to utter.

“I will,” he answered, sliding his lips along her throat, and she didn’t know if she should be relieved or disappointed at his easy acceptance of the physical meaning behind her words.

Then he was pushing against her with his body, walking her backward as he continued to nibble and lick his way down her neck and shoulder. Caught up in the incredible pleasure of his light caresses, she barely noticed that he had walked her across the foyer to the front parlor she used as a living room.

But suddenly, they were in the dimly lit room and he was shifting her, turning her in his arms so that her back was against his chest.

She reached out and flicked on the lamp near the door and he murmured his approval, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the huge, full-length mirror that ran the length of one wall.

Before she knew what was happening, he’d moved them so that they were positioned in front of the mirror. She felt a flicker of nervousness work through her, but she didn’t protest. Tonight—for better or worse—she was in Cole’s hands.

“What do you see?” he murmured as he slipped his T-shirt over her head. His hands went to her br**sts, cupped them from behind, and his thumbs played gently over her nipples.

“I see you,” she answered, and it was no less than the truth. Here in the dim light of her living room, she did see him—all of him. The strong, powerful body. The wary eyes. The gentle heart that beat beneath the rough, domineering exterior.

“You are so unbelievably beautiful,” he whispered into her ear. “I can’t believe how beautiful you are.”

She tried to turn, wanting to wrap her arms around him, but he held her fast, one large hand splaying across her pelvis to lock her in place.

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