Bound by Bliss (Bound and Determined #2)(53)

They stood there for a moment, chests heaving, as they fought for breath.

“This is not quite the punishment I had in mind,” he said after a moment.

“I was not aware this was punishment at all,” she replied.

“If I walk away and leave you now, I assure you that you will feel quite punished as you wander through the ball. Every time your thighs touch you will think of me, long for me.”

Remembering how she’d felt after he’d left her aching the other night, she did not doubt him. She nodded her understanding, words caught in her throat.

“But perhaps you’d like something a little more lasting, something that will not let you forget me, something that will let you know you are mine.”

Is that what she wanted? She was far from accepting that she was his, but there was something about him caring enough to claim her that warmed her inside, that made her want to throw herself against him once again. Why did she feel this way? Why did she want things that she should not? The thought continued to circle her mind, refusing her escape.

He waited, his face filled with endless patience.

With the very slightest jerk of her chin she indicated her acceptance—and then she waited. Her stomach churned with anticipation and the slightest tinge of fear. He would never hurt her, not really, of that she had no doubt, and yet…The not knowing was worse than any torture he could have devised.



She swallowed hard as his hands rose and settled on her shoulders, the thumbs sweeping down to caress the bare skin above her bodice. She could hardly breathe, the anticipation was so great. His eyes still held hers, staring deep into her, seeking every hint of response.

Even as his hands slipped lower, over her collarbones, onto the upper curves of her breasts, he kept his gaze on her eyes.

She was breathing again now, hard and fast. His every stroke and touch sent a multitude of tingles shooting through her. It was hard to believe that this was nothing but skin on skin. No touch had ever felt so good, so wonderful, so full of torture. She wanted more. She wanted less. It was impossible to tell what would bring satisfaction, what would bring comfort.

She ached. She ached so badly. She wanted to plead with him to move faster, to help her, to end the tension and unending need that filled her. Biting down hard on her lip, she forced back the words and moans. She would not beg.

His glance dropped to her lips, to the teeth nipping down on tender flesh. Her chest expanded and dropped again at the heat she saw in those eyes. The emotion was violent, a storm-tossed ocean. She wondered that he could hold it back, and yet feared that if released it would encompass her, swallow her whole. There was power in the knowledge that she could make him feel so deeply, but also vulnerability. She was not sure that she liked being the focus of such an emotional vortex.



And yet, she loved it.

What woman would not?

She swallowed, watched as his eyes followed the tiny motion.

His fingers had reached the top of her bodice and with a sudden jerk they tugged it down, baring most of her breasts.

Darkened eyes rose again to meet hers, to gauge her reaction.

Another swallow, but she held herself still.

His fingers slipped beneath the top of her corset and lifted her breasts, pulling them up over the top edge, until she was completely bare. The nipples that had pressed so tight against the fabric sprang free and hardened in the cooler air of the room. His fingers and thumbs curved about the turgid peaks, bringing them to even greater sensitivity.

And still his eyes held hers. He did not look down, did not peer at what he had revealed in the faint light of the pantry.

Her heart sped in her chest as emotion and sensation warred. Thought did not even enter into the battle.

His thumbs pressed harder, pulling her nipples out, stretching them tight and then releasing only to pull again. A moan began deep in her throat, crying for release. Still keeping his eyes on hers, he bent at the waist and flicked the tip of her left nipple with his tongue. Lightning shot straight between her legs, taking the energy already caught there and multiplying it by a thousand. Now the moan did tear from her. She pushed her head back against the wall, breathed in deep, caught the scent of lemons and apples from some shelf deeper in the pantry.

She’d never be able to eat fruit again without being back here, back in this moment.



Her whole body was crying for release, her hips thrust forward, longing for the feel of his fingers between her legs.

His hands stayed on her breasts, pinching, teasing, positioning them for that ever-darting tongue—and still his eyes stayed on her face, watching her, observing her every moan and sigh. Her face must be betraying every secret she’d ever held. There was no thought of holding back at this moment, only dreams of what was coming, coming soon.

Bending even more forward, he drew one nipple entirely into his mouth, sucking deep and then pulling back to flick it hard with his tongue. His teeth grazed her virgin skin, causing a whisper of pain and then a muffled scream of delight. And every moment, every second, she felt like he learned her, that he paid attention to each and every detail, saving it all for later use.

It was strange being so closely observed. Even now that thought floated in the back of her mind. She’d never felt like anyone paid that much attention to her and now she felt like every breath she took, every hair that moved, was seen. It was quite disconcerting.

Except there was no time to do anything but feel, feel and long for more.