Her stomach quivered, and though she didn’t entirely understand, she knew he meant to shock with his vulgarity.
“Explain,” she demanded.
“Explain what?”
Damn him. She took a guess. “Explain to me what you told me in French.”
He pinched the tip of his cock and gritted. “You understood.”
“Not everything.” She wet her lips. “Not the part about descending into my cave.”
“Not something ladies allow, I’m afraid.”
“You called me wanton—and you know what? Ilikedthe way you said it.” She sucked in as he fingered her again. “I don’t want to be a lady.” Another white light streaked behind her lids. “I want to be unchaste.” She sighed. “Wicked.”
“Do you know whatIwant, minx?”
“Maidenhead ripping?” She repeated his words.
He drew her back up onto the bed as if she were as easy to move as a tiny ivory chess piece.
“Maidenhead ripping.” He sat back on her thighs. “Cave exploration.” He grasped her wrists. “Those are mere prelude.” He stretched her arms and leaned over her as he pinned them above her head. “What I’dreallylike to do is truss you up like this”—he chewed his lip—“and then spend a very long, very leisurely day at play.”
Truss.
He’d used that word before, hadn’t he?
But he couldn’t possibly mean—“Truss as in tie?”
He nodded. “Truss as in bind. Truss as in render immobile.”
He sucked on the side of her neck until she squirmed.
“Truss.” He lifted his head. “As in mold you into my feast.”
Thoughts slithered behind his eyes. Filthy thoughts, from the sultry dance playing across his lips. Her mind went blank—no arguments, no protestations. A sea of nothing with a sprinkling of wordless, salted fear.
“You see?” His right brow rose. “It’s a very bad idea to believe we can seizeeverythingwe desire.”
Was she trembling now with misgiving or was she trembling with an unearthed want?
“Is it?” she whispered. “I’m not sure.”
His brows rose. “Does this”—he yanked on her wrists—“arouseyou?”
“You tell me.” She forced a breath. “I’m feverish. I’m tingling where you touched me. I’m achy, and I want to be, well…filled. And I’m not even sure what that means.”
“Don’t”—he yanked again—“lie.”
“I’m not.” Her eyes burned. “I never…I mean I didn’t—Rayne! What are you doing to me?”
His expression softened. He released her wrists and tenderly cupped her face. “Shh.” With his thumbs, he brushed away her threatening tears. “Bold minx.” He ran the back of his hand down her cheek. “You’ve nothing to fear—not from me. I swear. Do you understand? I’m sorry. I won’t hurt you.Ever.”
But he had. He was. And he would. All she could count on was the present moment.
If there was some reward for this overwhelming desire—that’s where she’d place her focus. “You promised me pleasure.”
He closed his eyes, lowered his chin, and twisted his lips into a reluctant-looking smile. “That I did, didn’t I?” He dropped a hand to her breast. “So, you still want to be wicked?”
