A Werewolf to Call Her Own (Mystic Isle, Book 2) (11 page)

Confidence.

Looping one end through the D-ring attached to the wall, she folded over the tab and gave the strap a tug. The taut material tugged the metal ring but neither gave. Good. While her vampire strength made her stronger than a human, she doubted her muscle mass was a match for his. She’d just have to trust him to play along.

Trust him… ha.

“Not hardly.” She reached for his wrist. “These are for you.”

His shocked expression would have made her laugh if she weren’t concentrating on restraining his wrist. The second it was done, she snatched up the other restraint and skirted the bed. She had it attached to the other D-ring before he spoke again.

“You can’t tie me up.”

“I can, actually.” She felt the power of those words down to her toes. No more would she be a victim. A weakling simply following orders. Her parents had told her how special she was, how careful she needed to be. She hadn’t listened, but they were right about that. She should have been more careful with her heart.

“You want me to fix your little problem, don’t you?” She couldn’t help her teasing tone. He truly was crazy if he thought she could put a spell on him.
Crazy and gorgeous and blatantly nude.

His jaws ground together for a moment and he didn’t look at her. “Yes.”

“Then this is how it has to happen.” She would prove he didn’t have any such affliction and be on her way. But she was not touching him more than she had to. She could not risk losing herself in his heat, the feel of his hands on her body, his hardness inside her.

Luckily, she’d never had a problem being clinical. And he’d never had a problem coming.

The skirt and corset made it hard to be flexible, but there was no going back. She stood at the end of the bed, surveying the gorgeous, lean hunk of perfection.

“Why?” he asked, jerking on the restraints. She gave him a
behave
look.

“Why what?”

His cock was hard as a rock, jutting up over his abs. She thought about performing a striptease, that way she didn’t have to touch him at all. But now wasn’t the time to try to find her inner vixen. He was everything she remembered and more. So long as he held still, she just needed to stroke him and -- and put her mouth on --

“Why does it have to happen like this?”

His knuckles were turning white around the straps. Was he that upset about being tied to a few flimsy rings? Or was he holding on to his orgasm?

Perhaps this was all some scheme to get her to fall into bed with him. Make her feel sorry for him so she’d sleep with him.

No. That wasn’t it. He’d been angry, aggressive, but not sleazy. And he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would have sex with him again. She hadn’t exactly played hard to get the last time.

The memory of her eagerness embarrassed her so she fueled it back into her performance. That’s all this was. A play. She, the award-winning actress proving the bad boy wrong.

“Oh.” She pulled the skirt up until it cleared her knees, and then she crawled onto the bed between his legs. Trailing her hands up his thighs, she zeroed in on her target and licked her lips.

He moaned, just as Avery had said he would.

“Well, I need to prove a point. And I can’t stand the thought of you touching me.” Her body made a liar of her, but he couldn’t know that. Better he think she was simply a cold-hearted vixen proving her point than know the truth.

He’d been so tender with her when she needed him to be. Touched her so sweetly. Proven himself to be an incredible lover. But after the things he’d said, the coolness of his attitude, the way anger and pain shimmered off him… she could give him this. And then they would be even. “So, here we are.”

She wasn’t sure if he gasped at her words or the feel of her hands getting closer to his cock.
So warm
. Closing her hands around the steel-hard length of him, she squeezed. Another groan.

It was too bad that in order to prove her point, she had to make him climax. What a fitting torture it would be to leave him hanging on the edge, tied up.

Focus
.

She’d never gotten this close to him before. To any man. The network of dark, protruding veins captivated her, and she traced them with her fingertips. More groaning. Perhaps now wasn’t the time for scientific study.

“Hell,” he muttered as she bent over his cock.

That should have been her line. She was in hell. Tight corset. Unable to breathe. The man she’d fallen for turned out to be a callous beast.

She licked him, from the root up. Like a cone of gelato, Avery had said. She could do this. She could. Index finger and thumb holding the head of him, she continued her exploration.

So this was where he stored his heat. The skin covering his shaft was softer than the finest silk. His hips shifted and he breathed her name.

“Let me go, vamp. Need to touch you.”

She made a sound in the back of her throat that said
not a chance.

Bending to his will now would lead to disaster for her heart. She could feel it. This wasn’t a joke. Wasn’t a spell. She might be playing with him, but to her, this had never been a game.

She should have listened to him from the start. He’d warned her he could only commit to a night. Maybe a weekend. Holding back her tears, she focused on driving him wild.

Up and down with her tongue. Squeezing gently with her fingers.

It didn’t matter how many times she told herself that he’d lost his Alpha, she couldn’t get his words out of her head. They rang on and on like a church bell, bruising her with every word.

Closing her lips over the head, she closed her eyes and renewed her efforts to make him writhe right out of his skin.
Gelato.
She bet she would have loved gelato. The ultimate in creamy, sweet perfection. She’d watched enough video online to know that women around the world truly loved the rich Italian ice cream.

Maybe one day she’d be able to forgive him. See his side of things. Understand how he came to such a silly conclusion.

Down and up. She used her tongue to massage the underside of his cock and was rewarded with a shout of her name. She kept her hands locked firmly around the base, holding him exactly where she wanted.

Today was not the day. She wanted him to apologize. To tell her she wasn’t crazy. That he’d felt as close to her as she had to him. But that so obviously was not going to happen.

Careful to keep her fangs retracted, she licked every inch of his cock that she could. The combination of musk and man soaked into her senses. The intimacy cranked up a notch. And then a distinct jangling met her ears.

“Hold still,” she ordered.

He froze, his muscles going taut beneath her.

Smiling, she closed her lips over the tip of his cock and applied suction. That unfroze him quickly. He went back to tugging the restraints, groaning, his hips rolling beneath her. Demanding she release him. She dared to open her eyes and look at him. His brown eyes were trained on her like twin lasers.

She slid her palms up his torso, relishing the warmth and the smooth skin over hard muscle. He cursed. In several languages. Years from now, she would remember this. His heat. His power. The look in his eyes.

If she ever needed a jolt of confidence, she would remember this moment.

“Ceara. Undo me or I swear I will rip these things out of the wall.”

“No. You won’t.” She leveled her gaze on him. “You said you couldn’t come. I’m proving you wrong. You undo the restraints and you’ll never find out if you can come or not.”

Letting her fingernails scrape gently down his chest, she licked her lips and sank down over his cock again. Muscle rippled beneath her lips and she felt him tense. So powerful, so tight.

Releasing him from her mouth, she stroked him with her hands. The slickness made it so easy to glide her thumbs against the sensitive flesh beneath the crown. His muscles grew more rigid and a vicious growl tore from his throat. He broke eye contact and snapped his head back against the pillow.

His cock pulsed beneath her fingers and she knew without looking that he’d reached his orgasm. She remembered that look in his eyes. The near frantic twitches that took over his incredible body. The way he groaned in the back of his throat and the animal-like growl that followed. The moment of climax was the closest she’d ever gotten to his true self. The wolf that he kept carefully in check pushed forward.

Never before had she felt like gloating. But right now, with his semen splashed over his belly and his chest rising and falling… she couldn’t resist a little jab.

“I don’t see what the problem is,” she said, feigning innocence.

Straightening, she shimmied off the bed and righted her skirt. On a sharp exhale he met her gaze.

“Don’t worry. I’ll call housekeeping to come clean you up.” She gave him one final glance, heart breaking, then
flashed
back to her room.

She’d
flashed
.

Son-of-a--

Maxim growled and stared at the space she’d just vacated. She’d obviously mastered a lot since the last time he’d seen her.

That knowledge would not be tempered by the relief the orgasm had brought. Somehow it seemed to compound and magnify until his wolf was barely controlled. He felt his fingernails thicken and reshape into claws. His jaws contracted and his senses heightened.

Hunt.

Wrapping his hands around the restraints, he gave them a quick hard jerk. The material stretched and the bolts in the wall creaked. Another tug and he was free. Without a moment to lose, he tore off the straps and gathered his clothes.

There on the floor was a high-heeled shoe. One of the sexy little numbers Ceara had been wearing. She’d left so fast, she’d lost one.

Staring down at the black stiletto with sexy little peep-toe detail, he pulled on his slacks, buttoned his shirt and hopped up and down as he put on his socks and shoes. He didn’t know why, but the beast inside him pushed forward, had to find her. Had to see her.

He snatched the shoe up and darted to the elevator.

Find.

Patience, he told his wolf. They would find her. Even if he had to search every square inch of the damn island.

On the ground level, he marched down the long, wide hallway toward the bank of public elevators. Time seemed to slow down as he reached the half-moon-shaped concierge desk where Charles Latham was casually leaning. The petite brunette on the other side gave him her full attention.

Maxim watched the professional interaction as he approached, noting the desire in the woman’s eyes. She couldn’t hide that she wanted her boss.

One of the elevators on the right dinged and the doors opened. Maxim’s heart skipped a beat, hoping that the woman he was searching for would step into the corridor and end his search. He didn’t know why it mattered. Couldn’t understand why he was searching for her. Or what he would say when he finally found her. He’d gotten what he was after. So why was his heart racing like he’d just galloped across Europe? More importantly, why did he feel ashamed of himself?

No such luck. A couple in the middle of a lip lock stumbled off the elevator.

What if Ceara was checking out? She could do so from her room. She’d been pretty mad. And he had been pretty rude, but was she upset enough to leave? Could she be packing right now? If so, he’d miss her by wandering up and down the halls of the hotel, sniffing her out.

He was good at tracking, perhaps not the best in the world, but good enough. But not that lucky. For all he knew, she could be staying in one of the villas again. He broke out in a cold sweat. Or she could have flashed straight back to France.

Perhaps it was time he changed his tactics.

“Mr. Ciolek,” the blond god said, pushing away from the desk.

Time returned to normal and he paused mid-step. “I had a feeling you’d come back,” Latham said, his tone quiet and conspiratorial.

Maxim frowned. “Why is that?”

“Because the last time you left, you forgot to take something important with you.” Charles Latham’s cool blue eyes met Maxim’s.

“I wouldn’t exactly say that, but I need your help.”

“What, exactly, would you say, then? Rosanna told me about the flowers and your note.”

Maxim stared at the god for several long seconds. The hard truth was he
had
thought Ceara special.
Important
. Now he didn’t know what to think.

Rather than answer, he lifted the shoe. “I need to find Ceara. It looks expensive. You wouldn’t happen to know her room number, would you?”

Claim.

The god shook his head, but put a hand on Maxim’s shoulder and steered him toward the elevator.

He sighed. “You messed up, didn’t you? Rosanna was afraid you were leading with something other than your heart.”

“What?” What place did hearts have on a sex island?

“It’s written all over you. Tell me why I should give you the information you seek.”

“The shoe --”

“Is expensive, yes, I got that part. You could leave it with the front desk.”

“I --” Maxim frowned down at the shoe. Yes. He could leave it with the front desk. “I’ve got to see her again.”

Latham’s eyebrows lifted. “Forgive me for saying you sound a little desperate, wolf.”

“I messed up. Happy now?”

Latham shrugged. “The view from the third floor is especially beautiful at this time of morning,” he said, an eyebrow quirked upward.

Maxim jerked his gaze from the floor, surprised that the god would give him such a bold hint. “I’ll go have a look at that.”

The elevator doors opened on the third floor revealing a long table topped by an elaborate flower arrangement and an oversized mirror. Heart pounding, he stepped out and sniffed the air again.

Coconut.

He turned left, following his nose. A housekeeping cart sat halfway down the hallway, unsupervised. As he approached he noticed the master keycard dangling from the push-bar. A quick swipe with his claw and he pocketed the card without slowing his stride.