standing in front of the bed. He made her bed look so small in comparison.
She blinked up at him. “Socks?”
He gestured to his wrists. “Something to tie with.”
She went ashen. “Um, I’m not ready for that. I don’t think I—”
He looked confused for a moment, then laughed, shaking his head. “Not for you. For me. You can tie me up. That way you can do whatever you want to me, and I can’t do anything to you. That should feel safe, I think.”
She was touched, all the way down to her toes. “You’d do that for me?”
He nodded. “Promise to be gentle?” he teased.
She swallowed. “No.”
“Good,” he said, heat lighting his eyes.
“I think I have something that could work,” she said, opening her drawers and rummaging through them. She found some thick scarves she’d used as headbands to keep her curls back when her hair was a little shorter. “How are these?”
“Perfect,” he said. “Nice and soft.” He lay back on the bed and spread his hands and legs for easy tying.
A shiver of arousal went through her as she worked at tying him up. He had such nice wrists, such fine hands with perfect nails. Even his feet were beautiful, large and masculine and cared for. “You really are too beautiful.”
He frowned. “Like a woman?”
“Like art,” she said.
He seemed mollified by that, staying still and relaxed as he let her tie him. “Have you ever done this before?”
“No, have you?”
He shook his head. “I’ve been the one doing it,” he said with a grin, testing the bonds on his wrists and finding them to be tight. “Honestly, I usually prefer a more dominant position, where I can be the one pleasing. But for you, I can make an exception.” His eyes were wolfish, though, and she had a feeling as soon as she was comfortable enough, he’d be turning the tables on her.
A warm, excited feeling went through her.
She finished with his feet and stepped back, rubbing her hands. “So we good?”
He looked down, struggled slightly, and nodded. He seemed a little disgruntled. “It’s tight.”
She smiled, feeling powerful as she walked to the side of the bed and put a hand out to touch his hard abdomen. “Good. Then I can do what I want to you.”
He didn’t get a chance to answer before she moved her hand over one large, sculpted pec and then the other, loving the feel of him. So toned, so hard. So warm. Impossibly warm and inviting.
His green eyes followed her, watching every movement as his body reacted to her touch. She dragged her fingers down over his abs to where his belt was. Beneath his zipper, something large began to take shape.
Holy hell, this man was hot.
She played with his buckle, and he shifted slightly, clearly a bit uncomfortable. But when she looked into his eyes, all she saw was patience and a desire that was willing to wait.
She climbed onto the bed with him and straddled his waist. He tried to blow a stray lock of hair off his forehead, and she reached up and pushed it away for him. “When you met me, did you ever think we’d be here?”
He shook his head. “Not here, exactly.” He gave her a wolfish grin. “But I did sort of hope to get you in bed.”
“Even at the start?”
“Even at the start,” he said. “You were the only woman to call me on my bull crap, and I had to see more about that.”
She laughed, running her hands up his large arms, feeling every muscle. Bicep, tricep, shoulder. His body couldn’t have been more different than hers. All man. All hard strength. All at her command.
“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“It feels good,” she said, stroking over his arms to his hands, touching him as his fingers curled into fists. “I doubt any woman in the world wouldn’t want to be in my place.”
He grinned. “I don’t care what they think. Just what you think.”
“It’s crazy how fast this has gone,” she said.
“Not fast in my opinion.”
“Probably because
Terry Southern
Tammy Andresen
Larry Niven, Nancy Kress, Mercedes Lackey, Ken Liu, Brad R. Torgersen, C. L. Moore, Tina Gower
Carol Stephenson
Tara Sivec
Daniel J. Fairbanks
Mary Eason
Riley Clifford
Annie Jocoby
My Dearest Valentine