Concern darkened his eyes. “You’re like a frightened little sparrow, your chest heaving as you beat against the cat’s paw holding you down.Relax, Sophie,” he murmured. “Otherwise I might lose my already tenuous control. As a dom, I am aroused by your apprehension. I love bringing a woman to the fine edge between trust and fear. I’d never hurt you, but still I’m determined to push your boundaries, test your limits, and I know that scares you just as much as it arouses you.” His once silky tone was now gruff and a little ragged.
The truth of his words was like a whip cracking in her mind, more sharp and agonizing than anything she’d ever felt on her skin.
Sophie bucked her hips, trying to dislodge him. “Damn you!” His large erection dug into her, making her womb throb.
As though he could sense her rising need and frustration, Emery’s eyes swirled with lust and hunger.
“So you have scars and they upset you,” he observed.
She raised her chin, glowering at him. “Well, it’s humiliating. Men don’t like my…my…” To her own shame, her voice wavered.
“They don’t like your breasts?” The sheer look of incredulity on his face startled her.
“Uh huh.” Sophie shut her eyes, shame smashing her insides like a sledgehammer through fine china.
God, let this humiliation be over quickly.Every other man had left her alone after hearing this. Emery wouldn’t be any different. He was too sexy, too gorgeous to ever settle for a scarred woman like her, not when he could have his pick.
Emery held still, didn’t make a sound or move until she opened her eyes. When she did finally look up at him, he dropped his head a few inches, his nose touching hers, nuzzling her cheek.
“I’m not like other men, Sophie. Scars are a sign of strength, survival. Someday you’ll be brave enough to show me, and I’ll prove you have nothing to be ashamed of. Now, I am willing to accept the deal you proposed. Are you willing in return?”
She bit her lip. It had been her idea; she had to see it through. She wanted to see it through, even if it scared the living daylights out of her.
“Yes. I’ll do it. Your story, my submission.”
Chapter 4
AUTHORITIES ARE CONVINCED THE STRUGGLE BETWEEN THE NANNY AND THE ABDUCTORS OCCURRED IN THE KITCHEN.FRANCESCAESPINA SUFFERED SEVERE INJURIES FROM A HEAD WOUND DEALT BY ONE OF THE KIDNAPPERS.
—New York Times, June 10, 1990
He kissed her with raw possession, his mouth showing her how wicked it would be between them. Wild, dark, and completely free. She wanted that more than anything, the freedom to let go, to give in to the erotic dreams she’d spent years ignoring but never had felt safe enough to give in to before. His kiss broke down every barrier, obliterated every part of herself she tried to hide. Sophie lifted her chin, offering him her mouth, pleading for him. Emery drew a quick breath, eyes widening before his lashes fell to half-mast, his gaze drawn to her lips.
When he took her lips, he dominated her with the depth of his claiming. She breathed him in, like drawing the first heavy breath upon waking from a thousand-year sleep. Sophie came alive in that single moment. The woman she’d been all these years since losing Rachel, the scared little girl fighting against the evils in the world, was gone. In her place was the woman she’d always wanted to be, a woman not afraid to live her life. She couldn’t shut this man out like she had her other friends or her family. No. He demanded she give in to him. Electric tingles pulsed outward from the places they touched, setting her senses on fire, fogging her mind. His kiss consumed her—enveloping her until she was lost, set adrift in a haze of desire, longing, and aching.
She felt his mouth tremble against hers; he seemed to strain to keep his possession under control, to bank the fires of his passion. His tongue slipped between her lips, thrusting in time with the rocking of his hips against hers in tiny circles. He gave up his control and took her over. His body weighed hers down, his hips rocking into hers. He could have done anything to her in that moment, and she’d have agreed to it. Sophie’s inner muscles clenched, empty and wet, yearning for him, but it was his kiss that was her downfall—almost brutal with craving, as though he was a thirsty man savoring his first sip of water from her mouth. All his focus, all his energy seemed to be on her, on her lips.
He tore his mouth from hers, panting roughly. He cursed savagely and withdrew his hands from her body. She blinked in surprise when she realized his hot hands had slid up her outer thighs beneath the mini-skirt. Her chest heaved, her breasts dangerously close to escaping the confines of her corset. Emery’s eyes slowly tracked down from her mouth to her breasts. With a rakish grin he pressed his mouth lightly on the tops of the creamy swells, his tongue darting out as he licked and nibbled a path back up to her lips. He paused, then feathered his lips at the corner of her mouth and brushed his nose against hers playfully.
Sophie whimpered at the loss when he finally drew his head back. It felt like good-bye, but that was foolish; she’d only just met him and agreed to surrender to him. They couldn’t be done.
Emery sighed, his breath uneven against her temple. His body stiffened above hers.
“Go home, Sophie. Forget me, this place. Let it be a peculiar dream, nothing more. I’m not the man for you.” His voice was harsh.
“No,” she whispered fiercely, but she wasn’t as sure of herself as she had been. She’d expected a spanking, some rough kissing. She hadn’t expected to feel so vulnerable and exposed by a man taking control of her body and owning her completely in a mere few minutes.
“You think you can really survive this lifestyle for even one minute? You’re vanilla, sweetheart. You wouldn’t ever let me tie you up and take you the thousand ways I’d like to. You’d cry when my hand came down on your ass in punishment. You’re not ready for this.”
She shook her head, furiously fighting off the swell of tears as her throat constricted. He and he alone had offered her what her secret dreams and longings had called for night after night. The phantom lovers that had tormented her to the brink of violent need in her dreams could never compare to the very real and very heavy weight of his body on hers at that moment. The devastation of that perfect kiss couldn’t be undone. The story could wait…but theneed…the desperation to feel alive again…she couldn’t let go of that, not yet.
“No. Take me home with you.” She paused, calculating each word. “Please, Sir.” She was begging. There was no doubt about it for either of them, and as shocked as she was by her own impulse to beg, she prayed he’d let her go with him.
Emery’s lips twisted into a crooked smile. For a moment, she saw the boy in him, the one he’d been before his world had been utterly destroyed. The child wasn’t gone, wasn’t dead. Buried yes, but not dead. He threaded a hand through his hair and remained silent for moment. Shadows of doubt and indecision danced across his face before he finally replied.
“How can I resist?” Emery lifted himself and hauled her to her feet.
Sophie winced. Her back was bruised after lying on the stone floor beneath him. She hadn’t minded at the time—her body had been distracted by a thousand other things. But now her shoulder blades and hips screamed in protest. Emery took her into his arms, rubbing her back, massaging it with knowing hands.
