the
edge of her towel, his knuckles brushing over the plumped-up curves of her breasts.
“Restrained.” His melting eyes met hers and her knees nearly buckled at the memories
his words caused.
It’d been their first Christmas together, and she’d bought him two new silk ties,
which he’d used not around his neck but for her wrists in his bed. He’d had his merry
way with her, and then in return had let her bind him.
The memories made her ache. “Can you just set me free?”
Another slow pass of his finger over the edge of the slipping towel, and though she
didn’t lower her gaze and look, he was helping the thing fall, damn him. “ James .”
“Yeah, I could set you free.”
Relief rushed through her. Short-lived, as it turned out.
“Soon as you tell me one thing.” His slow exhale fanned the hair at her temple, warming
her ear, causing a delicious set of goose bumps to raise over her skin.
Her eyes wanted to drift shut. In their marriage, one thing that had never wavered
was this . . . this hunger, this unquenchable need.
Truth was, she missed his arms around her at night; she missed his big, solid presence
in their bed. He had a way of making her forget everything but what he could make
her feel, and what he made her feel was like a walking orgasm. The man oozed sex appeal,
and that hadn’t changed. “Um . . . what do you want me to tell you?”
He ran his hand up her free arm, once again lifting hers over her head, entwining
their fingers. His thighs bumped hers, and it took every ounce of self-control she
had—which wasn’t much on a good day—not to rub against him like a cat.
“Tell me that you really don’t want to be married anymore,” he murmured, and curved
his fingers into hers now so that they were holding hands rather than him restraining
her. “Tell me you really want me to sign those divorce papers you had sent to my work.”
That was so far from what she expected, she blinked. “You were the one who left me.”
“Mmm,” he said noncommittally, tracing the pads of his rough fingers over her skin.
Just that small touch and her world spun. Her free hand automatically went to his
arm for stability, even though she couldn’t have fallen if she’d wanted to. Her fingers
dug his ropey, satiny shoulders. She was close enough to see into his dark, dark eyes,
and what she saw there made her go still and quivery at the same time.
“El.”
Just that, just her name on his lips, and everything faded away except the excitement
that always shimmered between them no matter what they were dealing with. He tipped
her face up and their mouths were only a breath apart. With a soft sigh, she leaned
into him. A sound escaped him, one of frustration, of need, and then he hauled her
close, wrapping his arms tight to her body. “This is crazy,” he muttered, and rubbed
his jaw to hers. “Stupid crazy.”
She nodded. She knew it, knew also if he dipped his head a fraction of an inch and
kissed her, it’d be a mistake. It’d taken her this whole time to even begin to get
over him, she couldn’t do it again, she just couldn’t—
“Damn,” he whispered, and then his mouth touched the very corner of hers.
She let out a helpless little murmur and strained even closer, wanting more, so much
more, but he pulled back. Stared at her as the corner of her towel slipped entirely
free from between her breasts.
The only thing holding it in place was James’s body, and they both knew it. “Uncuff
me,” she whispered.
“Tell me that you don’t want me anymore,” he whispered back.
Damn it. If she said the words, they’d be a lie, and he’d know that, too. He always
knew. But here she was, literally trapped, and a complete wreck from just one tiny
kiss, ready to toss all pride to the wind and beg him for whatever scrap he had left
to give her.
Six months ago, he’d told her all bets were off, that he couldn’t love her as
edge of her towel, his knuckles brushing over the plumped-up curves of her breasts.
“Restrained.” His melting eyes met hers and her knees nearly buckled at the memories
his words caused.
It’d been their first Christmas together, and she’d bought him two new silk ties,
which he’d used not around his neck but for her wrists in his bed. He’d had his merry
way with her, and then in return had let her bind him.
The memories made her ache. “Can you just set me free?”
Another slow pass of his finger over the edge of the slipping towel, and though she
didn’t lower her gaze and look, he was helping the thing fall, damn him. “ James .”
“Yeah, I could set you free.”
Relief rushed through her. Short-lived, as it turned out.
“Soon as you tell me one thing.” His slow exhale fanned the hair at her temple, warming
her ear, causing a delicious set of goose bumps to raise over her skin.
Her eyes wanted to drift shut. In their marriage, one thing that had never wavered
was this . . . this hunger, this unquenchable need.
Truth was, she missed his arms around her at night; she missed his big, solid presence
in their bed. He had a way of making her forget everything but what he could make
her feel, and what he made her feel was like a walking orgasm. The man oozed sex appeal,
and that hadn’t changed. “Um . . . what do you want me to tell you?”
He ran his hand up her free arm, once again lifting hers over her head, entwining
their fingers. His thighs bumped hers, and it took every ounce of self-control she
had—which wasn’t much on a good day—not to rub against him like a cat.
“Tell me that you really don’t want to be married anymore,” he murmured, and curved
his fingers into hers now so that they were holding hands rather than him restraining
her. “Tell me you really want me to sign those divorce papers you had sent to my work.”
That was so far from what she expected, she blinked. “You were the one who left me.”
“Mmm,” he said noncommittally, tracing the pads of his rough fingers over her skin.
Just that small touch and her world spun. Her free hand automatically went to his
arm for stability, even though she couldn’t have fallen if she’d wanted to. Her fingers
dug his ropey, satiny shoulders. She was close enough to see into his dark, dark eyes,
and what she saw there made her go still and quivery at the same time.
“El.”
Just that, just her name on his lips, and everything faded away except the excitement
that always shimmered between them no matter what they were dealing with. He tipped
her face up and their mouths were only a breath apart. With a soft sigh, she leaned
into him. A sound escaped him, one of frustration, of need, and then he hauled her
close, wrapping his arms tight to her body. “This is crazy,” he muttered, and rubbed
his jaw to hers. “Stupid crazy.”
She nodded. She knew it, knew also if he dipped his head a fraction of an inch and
kissed her, it’d be a mistake. It’d taken her this whole time to even begin to get
over him, she couldn’t do it again, she just couldn’t—
“Damn,” he whispered, and then his mouth touched the very corner of hers.
She let out a helpless little murmur and strained even closer, wanting more, so much
more, but he pulled back. Stared at her as the corner of her towel slipped entirely
free from between her breasts.
The only thing holding it in place was James’s body, and they both knew it. “Uncuff
me,” she whispered.
“Tell me that you don’t want me anymore,” he whispered back.
Damn it. If she said the words, they’d be a lie, and he’d know that, too. He always
knew. But here she was, literally trapped, and a complete wreck from just one tiny
kiss, ready to toss all pride to the wind and beg him for whatever scrap he had left
to give her.
Six months ago, he’d told her all bets were off, that he couldn’t love her as
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