Spider Game (GhostWalkers, #12)(45)
Trap wasn’t used to feeling vulnerable. She was. He always was in control. She’d been powerless in her cell, at the mercy of others. He wasn’t equipped to feel the force of their combined pull. All along, because he knew about families and relationships, because he’d lived in the world and she hadn’t, she thought he had the upper hand. She realized he didn’t. He cared for her. Really cared for her. She mattered to him. He seemed to be experiencing that for the first time, and it didn’t sit well with him.
She rubbed her chin along the top of her knees trying to figure out what to do. Trap was a difficult, complicated man. Granted, she didn’t know about relationships, but she could feel how much he wanted her. Not just wanted, although there was a part of him that wished that what he felt for her was just physical, but it wasn’t. She knew that. She was in his mind and she caught glimpses of his vulnerability. He felt exposed. Raw. Afraid. Of what she wasn’t certain, but to protect himself, he allowed jealousy to rule.
The tip of her tongue moistened her bottom lip. For the first time in her life, she knew she could make a decision that was hers alone. Trap couldn’t force her to do anything. It was her choice to stay with him or to go. It was her choice to figure out what bothered him so much that a man as strong as he was couldn’t face it, or to walk away from him.
The thing was, she wanted him to belong to her. If that meant it would take some work on her part to understand him, she was going to do it. She didn’t sense cruelty in him the way she had in others. He was a man of strength, but he didn’t hurt others on purpose. He actually was quite kind in his heart, and that made him vulnerable. He hid that kindness, didn’t want anyone to see it, but she did.
Trap Dawkins was going to be her choice. She was going to learn how to have a relationship from him. She was going to learn how best to please him. And she was going to learn how to handle things when he lost his mind and struck out using one emotion to cover another. Because that was her choice. She found herself smiling, feeling empowered. Determined. Her man was going to teach her things about sex, but again, on her terms. He needed to learn who she was, just as she had to figure him out.
Trap stripped and headed for the shower. The cool water did nothing to cool his body or the images running around in his head. He took care of his cock, but it didn’t seem to help. In the end he lay in his bed – the bed that was finally big enough to accommodate his size – and stared up at the ceiling. He had a fan, but he didn’t use it. The room was cool enough, his body temperature was just too high because the molten lava still moved slow and hot through his veins.
He’d never wanted a woman the way he did Cayenne. The need was sharp and terrible. His cock refused to soften. His body refused to relax. He couldn’t get the images of her wrapping her lips around him and taking him in her mouth out of his head.
He fisted his shaft with his hand, made small circles, pumped, but he did so almost absently. The hand job in the shower hadn’t worked, so he knew he was in for a long night and he was damned tired. He’d been up for days. He let his lashes drift down and almost immediately smelled her unique fragrance. He stayed still, forcing himself to breath evenly. She was in the room with him. Right there. Close. Close enough to draw the scent of her deep.
He kept his hand moving. Slow. Lazy. A slide. A jerk. Knowing she was watching him. Needing her to watch. Excitement moved through him, a wave of heat. Very slowly he opened his eyes, and there she was. His breath caught in his throat. She was above him, clinging to the ceiling with her hands and toes, body spread out, naked. Her ass was beautiful. The slope of her back, the curve of her hips and the small, tucked-in waist gleamed. Her hair spilled in a dark cloud around her shoulders and cascaded in waves like a dark waterfall flowing from the ceiling. Her green eyes were on his fist. His cock. Watching. Fascinated. Hungry.
Before he could move, silken threads shot out and wrapped his upper body into a snug cocoon. Tying him. Preventing his arms from moving. He tested the silken strands, knowing that spiderwebs woven like this could be stronger than Kevlar. There was no breaking those threads. He lay there, seemingly helpless. At her mercy.
Trap was a man all about control – especially in the bedroom – but there was no denying he found the situation hot. Her body was flawless. Mind-blowing. She dropped from the ceiling, dangling from silken skeins. He could see her full, beautiful breasts, the darker nipples, already peaked for him. She had tiny tight curls of black at the junction between her legs, but there was that red streak right down the center in the shape of an hourglass – directly over the path to her glistening lips. She was already wet for him.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, but he didn’t care what she was doing. His voice was hoarse, and lust welled up in a brutal, savage demand. He knew the sight of her dangling over him, stark naked, would be burned in his mind forever. He would always have that erotic picture to take out and examine whenever he wanted.
Her gaze drifted over his body, lingered on the heavy erection he held in his fist. The silken strands held his wrists down, but his cock jutted out right below the webbing. His cock, and one fist. The other hand was trapped on his chest. Again he tested the bindings with a burst of strength. They held.
The tip of her tongue came out to lick at her full bottom lip. His gaze jumped to her mouth. She had full lips. A bow of ruby red. Not pink. Red. Like the hourglass made up of tight red curls. Beautiful. Unbelievable. The things he wanted to do to her filled his mind.