Sinful Desire (Sinful Nights, #2)(12)

“That’s cocky.”

“It is,” he said with a nod as he ran his thumb along her jawline. “But it’s also true. From the moment I met you, I knew I’d have my hands on you. You knew it, too. Felt it, too.”

She nodded as she trembled from the trace of his finger. “I did feel it.”

He brought his mouth to her ear and spoke softly. “If I ever do or say something you don’t like, tell me. Or smack me. I only want to bring you pleasure.” His words were both sexy and earnest. The combination sent flutters through her belly. “Immense pleasure.”

“You already are. So tell me something else that’s true. Something else you know,” she said, loving the hot, dirty way he talked to her as he touched her.

“I’m going to look into your eyes like I want to take you,” he said, his eyes blazing with desire. “That look will drive you wild. And you’ll swallow nervously because you don’t know me, and it’s odd wanting a stranger as much as you do.” He was reading her like a teenage diary. On the one hand, she was nervous. She didn’t know him at all. But she was also aroused beyond words. Beyond reason. Beyond any normal limits.

For that same reason—because she didn’t know him.

“Then, you’ll run a hand down my tie,” he told her, and she reached out instantly, doing exactly as he said, loving the directions he gave. Sophie craved this kind of interaction. She wanted a man to command her. So much time was spent deciding, and doing, and planning. It drove her brain batty, and she longed for this kind of release from her days.

“Do you know why you’re so fascinated with my tie?” he asked huskily, his eyes pinned on her. He practically f*cked her with his gaze. It was so intense. His confidence set her on fire. It torched a path across her body, sizzling her skin.

“Tell me,” she said, eager for more of his words. “Since you seem to know me so well. Tell me.”

He brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek. Oh God, she was dying for him to kiss her. She was so eager to feel those lips. To taste him.

He grasped a wrist with one hand, yanking it up his chest and loosely wrapping the end of his tie around her hand. “You want me to tie you up.”

“How do you know that?” she asked, her voice stripped to the bones. He knew her. He read her. He could sense everything she wanted. He crowded her against the wall. Heaven Leigh belted out her song on stage. The inky black of the backstage cloaked them.

“Am I wrong?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. “If I’m wrong, tell me and I’ll walk away.”

She shook her head. “Are you going to take it off? Tie me up?” she asked in a voice that hardly sounded like hers. It belonged to the part of her that had been untended for years.

He grinned wickedly. “No. I have other ways to tie you up,” he said, and in a flash, he gripped her wrists in his big strong hands, wrapping his fingers around her, binding her as he yanked her hands behind her back. Heat flared in her body, spinning through her, settling between her legs. Her gorgeous, sexy panties were so damp right now they were useless.

She ached for his touch. And she could do nothing but wait for it since she was his hostage.

He was so strong she couldn’t wriggle away if she wanted to. His thumbs dug into her wrist bones, pinning her hands above her ass, rendering her helpless. The pressure from the twist in her arms bordered on pain, and felt oh so good.

There was no space between the two of them. Only breath. Only words and his bare, husky voice. “Do you know what else I’ve been thinking about all day?”

She shook her head.

He inched closer, his mouth mere centimeters from hers. Her lips parted, so ready for him. God, she needed him to kiss her. Needed it badly. He was making her wait for it. Making her nearly ask for it. His mouth hovered so close she wanted to dart out her tongue and lick him. Draw him to her. His forehead brushed hers, and her breath fluttered.

Somehow, she managed a please.

“Please kiss you?” he asked. “Is that what you want me to do?”

She nodded, too turned on to form another word, even a yes.

“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about all day,” he whispered.

Then he kissed her, and he wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t sweet. He was rough as he claimed her mouth, kissing hard. She moaned as he drew her bottom lip between his teeth then fused his mouth to hers.

His stubble rubbed against her chin. She’d have whisker burn later. She longed for the redness, the proof, the evidence of a bruising kiss.

The kiss lit her up. She felt it everywhere—in her toes, in her hair, in her belly.

And, deliciously, between her legs.

She ached for him there. She angled her hips closer as they kissed, desperately seeking contact from him. God, how she wanted him. And she didn’t even know his name.

But he knew her body.

He knew her desires.

He held her hands so tightly they might as well be cuffed. In a flash, he changed his grip, wrapping both her wrists in one hand, keeping them pinned behind her back. He moved his free hand to the front of her dress and found his way up her skirt. He broke the kiss as his fingertips brushed above her knee, touching her stockings and her garter. “Are you wet for me, Sophie?”

“Yes,” she said on a pant.

“Are you hot for me?” he asked, racing closer to her heat.