Seduction on His Terms by Sarah M. Anderson

Author:Sarah M. Anderson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2018-11-05T19:01:14+00:00

Nine

Robert sucked in air as Jeannie got closer to him. “I’ll tie you down and ride you hard. I won’t talk and I won’t touch you and you won’t be able to do anything about it.”

“Wyatts don’t submit,” he got out, sounding like she’d rabbit-punched him.

That sounded like...like something that had been said to him, but she couldn’t think about what it meant right now. The look he gave her would’ve turned a lesser mortal to stone but she knew him far too well to let a well-placed glare put her off.

“Don’t make me wait,” she pleaded. Because if he said no...

“Would you really wait for me?” His voice was ragged.

She wasn’t supposed to touch him—that was the rule. But she couldn’t not touch him, not when he looked so desperately devastated. She touched the tips of her fingers to his forehead and, when he didn’t pull away, she skimmed them down the sides of his face.

“Always,” she whispered against his forehead. “I’ll always wait for you. But trust me. Trust yourself.”

He made a choked noise and pushed her away. She stumbled a little because this bed was so danged plush and yeah, she’d broken the rules and that was that. But when she got her balance back, she saw he’d held out his hands.

He didn’t look at her. He kept his eyes down, shoulders back and yep, this was war. But she knew now—he wasn’t fighting her.

He was fighting himself.

Oh, Robert.

She looped the silk tie around his wrists and then around the bedpost. Nothing was tight—if he wanted, he could twist his way free. But this wasn’t about restraining him for safety, no matter how he tried to frame it like that.

This was about proving he could trust himself. Because he needed that. She was afraid to ask why.

The knot secured—sort of—she scooted off the edge of the bed so she could stand next to him. “Just to help you on the bed,” she said softly as she put her hands on his shoulders.

The man was shaking as she turned him around and undid his belt and the fly of his shorts. For all his defensiveness, there was no mistaking that erection. Dear God, even contained behind his boxer briefs, Robert swelled upward, long and rock-hard. There was so much she wanted to say—that he was as impressive as hell, all the ways she’d dreamed of having him, asking him what he liked, telling him how to touch her—if only to break the oppressive silence of the room.

But she didn’t because those were the rules. Instead, she focused on the harsh panting sound of his breathing, the way he tensed when her hand brushed along that impressive ridge. But she didn’t palm him, didn’t slip her hand inside his briefs. Hell, she didn’t even push his briefs down. She could do that when she was on the bed.

She could explore quite a bit before he could get free. She could rip open his shirt and finally take what she wanted from him.

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