Cowboy Casanova (Rough Riders #12)(33)

She pursed her mouth into a scowl.


“Ah-ah. None of that.” His lips grazed the plumpness of hers, hovering a breath away,

waiting to swoop in and claim the kiss she’d denied him last night.


This time when she opened her tempting mouth, Ben denied her a kiss. Moving his lips to

the tip of her chin and cruising up the left side of her jaw. He nuzzled her ear,

licking, blowing, nibbling. The more he nuzzled, the harder she squirmed. Coarse hair

brushed his cheek and he itched to remove the wig, so she wasn’t hiding anything from

him.


Her fingers inched up his chest and she clutched his shirt.


“Hands by your sides,” he reminded, nipping her neck.


She gasped, twisting away from his mouth.


“Stay still.” His tone turned sharp and he forced her hands back down.


“I-I don’t know if I can.”


“Not a request.” When Ben sank his teeth into the section of skin between her

shoulder and throat, her knees buckled and she shoved him away hard.



Her mouth was open in shock when she realized what she’d done. She took a defensive

posture, wrapping her hands over herself, attempting to melt into the wall. “Sorry.

God, I’m sorry, Bennett. I forgot for a second.”


“Then it’s time I give you a very clear reminder about who’s in charge.” He

uncurled her fingers from her biceps, forcing her hands by her sides. “Repeat after

me. Bennett is in charge of me tonight.”


“Bennett is in charge of me tonight.”


“Say it again. Bennett is completely in charge of me tonight.”


A spark of irritation darkened her eyes but she repeated, “Bennett is completely in

charge of me tonight.”


“Good. But because you inappropriately used your hands, you’ve lost the use of them

for as long as I see fit.”


“What? No. That’s not fair—”


Ben got right in her face. “Keep it up and I just might rethink my stance on not usin

’ spanking as punishment for talkin’ back. Understand?”


She swallowed hard. Then nodded.


“Turn and face the wall.”


She didn’t hesitate at his command. She didn’t move when he unzipped her corset and

tossed it aside. She didn’t protest when he tugged her leather skirt down her legs,

leaving her in a tiny peach lace thong and the three-inch black patent leather pumps.


But she did tremble when he rested his hands on her hips. “You’re shaking.” He

pressed a kiss on the slope of her shoulder. “Why?”


“Because I don’t know what happens next.”


“But it’s exciting, isn’t it?” Ben slid his hands up the front of her body. Over

the soft curve of her belly. Pausing to cup her breasts. Stopping to place his thumb on

the erratic pulse pounding in her neck. “What’s your safe word?”


“Broncos.”


“Do you want to use it now?”


A pause, then, “No. Sir.”


Ben twined his fingers with hers and towed her away from the wall. At the end of the

bed was a leather foot bench, the perfect height, length and width for what Ben had in