A Wicked Seduction (8 page)

The pulse in her throat fluttered. “There's just one thing you're missing,
Master.
”

Amusement flickered across his expression. “And what's that?”

“A submissive female,” she replied impudently.

He chuckled, the deep, rich sound making her toes curl and her body warm with awareness. “Oh, I'm not worried about your surrender,” he said too confidently. “While I've never done this kind of thing before, I'm a strong believer in the power of persuasion. Especially when it's between two people who are highly attracted to each other.”

He'd brought the forbidden out into the open, and she swallowed hard, unable to deny his claim. She'd been battling her attraction to him since yesterday afternoon, had even made him a part of her own personal fantasy last night in the shower. The dynamics of their relationship had shifted this morning to one full of sensual possibilities, and she wondered how far he planned to take things. And just how far she'd allow herself to follow.

Growing suddenly serious, he rolled to a sitting position on the edge of the bed across from hers and braced his arms on either side of his thighs. The tight muscles across his abdomen rippled, drawing her traitorous gaze to the fascinating sight and the thatch of hair that swirled around his navel then disappeared into the waistband of his sweatpants.

“You know,” he said, his tone low and gruff, “I hate to be the one to point this out, but you really put yourself in an incredibly dangerous position last night.”

She reluctantly lifted her gaze upward, startled to see the concern and caring in the dark depth of his eyes. “No lecture, please. I'm already feeling foolish
enough about all this without being reprimanded by my own prisoner, and that's who you are, despite who's currently wearing the handcuffs.” And if her brothers ever found out about what had happened, she'd be restricted to a desk for the rest of her P.I. days, which wasn't an option for her.

He dragged a hand through his thick, tousled hair. “I just think you need to be more careful in the future, or else you might end up in the
wrong
guy's bed.” A teasing note threaded his voice, and he gave her one of his flirtatious winks, lightening the moment. “This time, you got lucky.”

And ended up in the right guy's bed.
His
bed. And now she was currently secured to said bed and feeling at a distinct disadvantage, regardless of the sexual by-play they'd indulged in minutes ago.

She rattled the metal shackles to bring his attention back to her current position and smiled sweetly for effect. “You can release me any time.”

He stroked his dark, stubbled chin with his fingers, considering the situation. Considering her. “Not just yet,” he decided.

She frowned, annoyance mingling with a restless feeling of arousal. “I think you made your point by cuffing me to the bedpost.”

He cocked his head. “Did I?” he asked, the simple question holding a wealth of doubts.

“Didn't you?” she shot back just as quickly, ignoring the skip of her pulse, and the tingling sensation skittering down her spine.

He thought for another long, drawn-out moment.
“I'm not sure I made my point yet.” In one fluid motion he stood and grabbed her set of keys, then moved across her bed like a big, lithe panther stalking his prey—all powerful, potent magnetism and intoxicating masculinity.

Shameless desire took up residence in her, and intensified when he leaned over her to work the lock on the cuffs. His sweatpants rode low on his hips, and his flat belly was inches away from her face. The musky, all-male scent of him teased her senses, awakening a reckless hunger to do things to him that shocked even herself…like flick her tongue across his warm, hair-roughened flesh to see what he tasted like, or sink her teeth into the soft skin just below his ribs to test how sensitive he might be, or press her lips to the kidney-shaped birthmark on the left side of his navel…

Her breathing deepened, and she squeezed her eyes shut, which did little to block those erotic images she'd conjured, or lessen the temptation he presented when he surrounded her so completely.

“Mind giving me a little help with these cuffs?” he asked from above her.

Grateful for the distraction, she reached up to assist him, but couldn't glance up without risking the possibility of licking, biting or kissing his belly, so she kept her eyes closed. Blindly, she searched for the keys, only to have Dean gently grasp her wrist and snap the other cuff around her free hand, effectively and efficiently restraining her arms above her head.

Her eyes opened wide in astonishment. She jerked
on her restraints, but the effort was futile. The sturdy bedpost wasn't going to budge, break, or pull apart, as she already knew. Dean grinned down at her, but she wasn't amused that he'd managed to dupe her once again. This time while she was wide awake.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

He settled himself along her left side, singeing her with the scorching heat of his body crowding against her. He pressed his fingers against her lips to hush her, and his striking green eyes met and held hers. “I'm buying a little extra time to find out if I made my point or not,” he told her, and slowly let his fingers drift from her mouth, along her jaw, and down the column of her throat. “Do you believe the story I told you last night, about the possibility of someone assuming my identity?”

“You're going to interrogate me?” she asked incredulously.

“For starters,” he drawled, and let her overactive imagination come to its own conclusions as to what would come
after
he had the information and answers sought. “Do you believe it's possible that someone assumed my identity?”

She couldn't lie, not when she'd seen so much evidence to back up his claim. “Yes, I do.”

Stark relief eased across his chiseled features. “Do you trust me?”

She rolled her eyes and pulled on her bound arms, doing her best to ignore that her T-shirt had ridden up a few inches and exposed too much bare skin.
“Gee, considering my current predicament, I guess I'm going to have to.”

“Uh-uh. Not a good enough answer.” He shook his head and twirled a section of her hair around his long finger and gave it a playful tug. “I don't want there to be any doubts in your mind about me, Jo. None whatsoever.” A slight, concerned frown formed between his brows. “Are you afraid I'm going to hurt you in any way?”

She didn't fear him, but rather her own sexual response to him. Never had she been so attuned to a man as she was to Dean. Never could she remember wanting a man as much as she was beginning to crave him.

“No,” she whispered, wondering what that admission would eventually cost her. Nothing she didn't already want to give him, she was certain.

“Good. Because you're perfectly safe with me, in every way,” he promised.

She believed him. More than was prudent. More than was wise. In ways she'd never trusted another man, because Dean was straightforward and honest in his actions. He didn't coddle and treat her like a helpless female in need of a man's protection. And despite his dominant position at the moment, despite the provocative game he was playing, she felt safe with him. Was confident that if she called his intentions to a halt this very second, he'd back off and release her.

It was her own willingness that made her his captive, and her own enthusiasm that made her too eager
to experience the kind of pleasure she'd denied herself for so long. Too long.

“So,” he murmured, tickling the side of her neck with long sweeps of her hair against her skin, causing gooseflesh to rise and her breasts to tingle. “If you're not afraid of me, you must trust me more than you realize or want to admit out loud.”

The man was way too smart. Way too intuitive. Verbalizing that trust would break down any last barriers between them and leave her open to all kinds of tantalizing scenarios. She wasn't ready to give him that power over her. Yet. “You're very analytical.”

“Just trying to read all the signs accurately, especially when you're being vague with your answers and skirting the issue.”

The silence grew as he waited patiently for her answer. Finally, she released a sigh and gave it to him, not out of obligation, but he deserved to know what she thought of him. “I trust you.”

An indulgent smile curved his full lips. “Now why do I get the impression that trust is a very hesitant one?”

It wasn't. Not really. But playing hard to get, just a little bit, was better than relinquishing everything up front. “Vivid imagination?” she suggested with a bit of sass.

His irises darkened with smoky desire, and when he shifted one of his rock-hard thighs over hers, she felt the rigid length of his erection pressing against her hip. A throbbing, luxurious ache settled in her
stomach, and lower, and she swallowed back the groan rising in her throat.

“Oh, I most definitely have a vivid imagination, Ms. Sommers,” he said, having proven as much with his body's lustful response to her. “Especially when it comes to you and me. And us. Together.”

She touched her tongue to her upper lip, feeling her entire body hum with anticipation. “Us?”

“Uh-huh,” he said, nodding slowly, and let his gaze lower to her mouth. “Tell me, Jo, do you trust me enough to let me kiss you while you're completely at my mercy like this?”

The wanting and excitement increased, coiling tighter within her. She laughed, the sound more nervous than the frivolous note she'd been striving for. Yeah, she was uncertain…of where a kiss with him could lead…of where she yearned for it to lead. “What makes you think I
want
you to kiss me?”

He propped his palm against his temple. His face was inches from hers, nearly within kissing distance. “Oh, just an educated guess.”

The sensual secrets glimmering in his eyes, mixed in with the presumptuousness infusing his voice made her too curious. “Based on?”

“The way your breath catches when I touch you.”

He followed up that matter-of-fact statement by splaying his large hand on the strip of flesh between the hem of her T-shirt and the elastic waistband of her shorts, and she inhaled quickly at the incendiary heat that rippled through her.

“Yeah, just like that,” he said, dark satisfaction
etching his bold, masculine features, along with a good dose of gratification at the impulsive, brazen way she strained toward him.

“And then there's the way your skin quivers with the lightest caress of my fingers,” he went on, toying and swirling his pinkie around her sensitive navel until she gasped and squirmed and trembled.

“But the most telling fact that you want me as much as I want you is the way your nipples are growing tight and hard right this second, and the way you're trying to shift closer, for a more intimate contact, a more explicit touch.” The tips of his fingers skimmed upward, disappearing beneath her shirt to brush along the full undersides of her breasts, a teasing stroke that left her wanting so much more. “Every one of your responses is a dead giveaway.”

He was right. Her responses were uninhibited and wanton, and she couldn't help herself. Arguing his claim was impossible and ridiculous, so she didn't even try, especially when the evidence he'd compiled against her was irrefutable.

His gaze burned into hers, and it was obvious he was holding his own desires for her in check. “You never answered my question, Jo, and a simple yes or no reply will suffice. Do you trust me to kiss you while you're handcuffed to the bed, without having any control over what happens?”

A frightening thought, if the circumstances were different, with a man she
didn't
trust. He might be the one holding the reins of this seduction, but she also recognized that he was giving her the ultimate
power right now—to say no, or take a huge leap of faith. With him.

The forbidden beckoned. So did the fantasy of playing hostage to a man who'd master her with his lips, his mouth, his hands. The thought thrilled her, enticed her, aroused her.

“Yes,” she breathed.

A
S SOON AS
D
EAN GAINED
the permission he sought, he tangled his fingers through the silky warmth of her hair at the nape of her neck and tipped her chin up with his thumb beneath her jaw. Lowering his head, he ended the wait, wanting more than his next breath to kiss Jo, to finally taste the desire she exuded. To see if all the sexual tension between them was merely a prelude to a deeper kind of ecstasy.

His mouth settled on hers, sliding slowly, insistently, hotly over hers. Her lips were plush and warm and pliant. Generous. Opening for him and allowing him inside with a soft moan of surrender. With a surge of heat coursing through his veins he exerted a deeper pressure and found her tongue with his. He teased her mercilessly, flirted playfully, and swept the velvet depths of her mouth with seductive forays that coaxed her to be just as bold and daring in return.

She matched his kiss with equal fervor, impetuously chasing his mouth with her own and giving as good as he gave, which heightened his own excitement and inflamed him beyond rational thought or reason. She wasn't shy about indulging in the erotic pleasures of two people who were highly attracted to
each other. Wasn't modest about enjoying what felt good. Wasn't at all hesitant in communicating with her lips and tongue and the sinuous movements of her body what she liked and what she wanted more of.

And what she craved was more of
him.

She couldn't use her hands, couldn't utter a word with her busy, seeking mouth, but she spoke volumes with expressive feminine signals as old as time—a silent, ancient language spoken by a woman to a man, and one he instinctively recognized. The twisting to get closer. The subtle rocking of her hips. The restless shifting of her slender thighs against the one he'd wedged between her legs.

She wanted to be touched, caressed, stroked. Physically and intimately. Wasting no time in fulfilling her need, he glided the hand resting on her waist up her back and smoothed his palm along her spine. She groaned into his mouth and arched and shivered beneath him. Yielding to her body's silent invocation, he flattened his broad hand on the small of her back and pulled her more fully against him, as close as her manacled arms would allow. He nearly came apart when her stiff nipples thrust enticingly against his chest and she entwined her legs tighter around his and squeezed.

His breath hitched as a fierce rush of carnal lust and excruciating need flooded his limbs—the need to do things to and with Jo to extinguish the heat simmering in his gut. He was granite-hard and thicker than he could ever remember being, and more alive than he'd felt in years. All because of this vibrant,
sensual woman who'd taken him completely by surprise…in so many ways.

Long minutes later she dragged her mouth from his, straining and pulling against her bonds, her breathing ragged. Unable to resist burying his face in the fragrant curve of her neck, he nuzzled her throat. The stubble along his jaw lightly abraded her skin, and he soothed the scrape with a long, slow lap of his tongue.

She inhaled sharply. The handcuffs rattled, and a frustrated sound caught in her throat. “Release me, Dean,” she groaned.

Certain they'd carried things too far and much too quickly, he immediately obeyed her request. Disengaging himself from her, he reached up and fumbled with the keys until he found the small silver one that unlocked the cuffs and she was freed.

He rubbed his thumbs across the faint red marks that had chafed her wrists, and swore beneath his breath, feeling instantly contrite for keeping her restrained. “Are you okay?”

“I'm just fine,” she said in a low, throaty voice, and pounced at him with startling speed and an astonishing strength that took him completely off guard.

The next thing Dean knew
he
was flat on his back with Jo positioned on top of him, his own hands pinned securely on either side of his head by her vise-like grip and her knees clenching his thighs to keep him immobile beneath her. As if he was going anywhere, even if he could, he thought wryly.

While she was slender in stature, there was no
doubt in his mind that she could take care of herself in a threatening situation. “Is this one of those moves they teach you in the police academy?”

A Cheshire cat smile curved her sweet mouth. “That, and martial arts training comes in handy too.” Her rich, disheveled hair spilled around her flushed face, and she gazed down at him, sloe-eyed, relaxed, and mellow, despite the upper hand she'd managed to gain. “Turnabout being fair play and all, I do believe it's
my
turn to have a little fun with the fantasy,” she murmured seductively.

Still sitting on his thighs, still banding his wrists with her fingers, she bent over him and let her mouth hover above his for a few heartbeats. Choppy, uneven breaths blended as she drew out the heady anticipation. Eyes met, intense and hypnotic, and he watched as her irises turned a sultry shade of blue.

Finally, she dipped her head and nibbled at his bottom lip, alternately rolling the soft flesh between her teeth and biting gently to stimulate and arouse. Her velvet soft tongue joined the sensual assault, but stopped short of entering his mouth. She dabbled, tasted, and explored without completely fusing their lips, deliberately driving him wild with her sweet but, oh, so erotic ministrations.

Her hands gradually relaxed their hold and released his wrists. As her mouth continued to seduce his, she skimmed her fingertips down his arms, over his straining biceps, then flattened her palms on his naked chest and brushed her thumbs over his rigid nipples. Unable to take any more of her teasing, he cupped the back
of her head in his palm and finally ended the exquisite torture she was inflicting with her lips and tongue and fused their mouths completely. With a low, primal growl, he poured all the hungry, pent-up passion of the past twenty-four hours into the deep, drugging kiss.

His body hummed with tension, along with an aching need to touch her,
all
of her. To feel more of her lush curves aligned against his harder planes. To find and devour all her most sensitive places with his hands, his mouth, his tongue. To let himself imagine what it would be like to sink deep, deep inside her, lose himself in the throes of mutual pleasure and make love to her until they were both spent and sated.

Seemingly as caught up in the moment as he, she shifted restlessly over him and dragged a hand down his torso and around to his hip in a slow, gliding caress that set his senses on fire. Following her lead, he did the same, skimming both of his palms down to the indentation of her waist, then brazenly slipping lower, until his fingers gripped the backs of her silky, bare thighs. He brushed his thumbs along that quivering flesh, felt her shudder in response, and without further hesitation he tunneled his hands beneath the opening of her shorts.

Her lips managed to cling to his, even as her breath came in shallow pants. Her flesh was warm, sleek, and perfectly toned. Lightly muscled in all the right places, and soft and giving everywhere else. Bolder still, he slipped his palms under the elastic band of her panties and over her smooth bottom. He massaged
her supple flesh with his fingers and resisted the urge to follow the crease of her buttocks to the warm and dewy softness he knew he'd find at the apex of her thighs.

She trembled, curled her fingers into a fist against his chest, and groaned long and low. Dean swallowed the earthy sound, feeling her need almost as strongly as he felt the pulse of his own blood in his groin. The urgency between them was so hot, it threatened to combust and burn them up in the process.

Hooking his fingers behind her knees, he pulled her up over his thighs so that she was straddling his waist. She came willingly, bracing her hands on either side of his head and allowing him to spread her legs wide on either side of his hips as he positioned their bodies the way they were ultimately meant to be joined—steel-hard arousal to soft, feminine heat. Flexing his hips and holding her waist, he ground her against his erection, slowly, shamelessly, rhythmically.

She tossed her head back, her lips parting on a sharp gasp as her lower body intuitively picked up his tempo in a simulated act of sex. Mindless pleasure engulfed him, threatening his control and forcing the muscles in his abdomen to tighten with restraint. Pressing his lips against her neck, he breathed hot, moist kisses along her throat and up to her ear, using his teeth and tongue as he went. His hands worked the hem of her shirt up and his fingers brushed along the sides of her full breasts, eliciting a shiver from Jo.

Wanting to feel those soft mounds against his
chest, he pushed the cotton material higher and ran his palms around to rest between her shoulder blades, urging her downward and completely on top of him, so close their mouths were inches apart and there was no mistaking the wild cadence of her heartbeat, which matched his own. The pearled tips of her nipples branded him, and they moaned in unison as the heat of their bodies mingled, shocking and scalding in intensity—a breathless, thrilling union that propelled them to the brink of something far more satisfying…
if
they were daring enough to explore the possibilities.

Her teeth bit down on her well-kissed bottom lip, and judging by the unleashed passion he saw mirrored in her dark blue eyes, along with a good dose of feverish longing, they both seemed to be considering all the intimate, provocative scenarios awaiting them. Secret, sensual pleasures and earthy, hedonistic delights that would extinguish the fire between them…until a loud, sharp ringing rent the air, startling them both out of their private euphoria.

Instantly alert, Jo jerked upward, severing the intimate contact of their bodies, except for the way his hardened shaft found a perfect, snug home between her clenched thighs. Much to his disappointment her top slipped back down into place, and he silently mourned the fact that he'd lost the chance to catch a glimpse of those lush breasts, to caress them with his hands, flick his tongue over the velvety crests, and suckle her deep into his mouth. Hell, he wanted to draw more than her nipples into his mouth, and
craved so much more than a quick taste, ravenous as he was to sample every inch of her.

The piercing, annoying sound of the alarm clock Jo had set the night before seemed to grow louder in the quiet room as they stared at each other, until finally she moved off his lap and shut off the irritating contraption. Slowly sitting up to accommodate his raging erection, he swung his legs off the edge of the mattress so he was facing where she now stood, accepting that this makeout session was over, but knowing
they
were far from finished.

No, in his opinion, they'd just begun.

She dragged her fingers through her mussed hair, her eyes still bright with arousal and the soft skin along her neck chafed by his morning stubble. “Oh, wow,” she said with a light little laugh, seemingly overwhelmed by what had just happened, but not at all upset or disconcerted by his behavior, or her own.

Dean took her accepting attitude as a positive sign, which told him that she'd known exactly what she'd been doing, and had been a willing participant every step of the way. “Yeah,
wow,
” he repeated. That one word certainly summed up the chemistry they'd generated.

An indulgent grin made an appearance as she absently rubbed her palms down the front of her cotton shorts. “I guess we were saved by the bell, huh?”

Humor laced her voice rather than the kind of regret or denial that normally came in the aftermath of such a heated, spontaneous embrace. Especially with a man just yesterday she'd believed was a felon.

“
This
time, anyway,” he replied with a presumptuous smile.

He knew he sounded confident, but didn't care. After what had just transpired between them it was pointless to deny their attraction, absurd to believe there wouldn't be another hot, sexy encounter in their near future. Not if he could help it.

She didn't deny it, either.

They'd come to a turning point that had everything to do with the trust they'd given each other moments ago on the bed. Her to him, and him to her. And he planned to take the awareness between them as far as she was willing to let it go. There was no doubt in his mind that he wanted Jo—stripped naked, wet, silky and hot—flowing over him, writhing beneath him, wrapped tight around him. In every erotic way he could take her. With her just as restless and needy as he.

In a very short amount of time she'd become a fever in his blood, one he suspected would take a hell of a lot more than a single sexual coupling to shake. With a week-long break looming in front of him and nowhere else he'd rather be, not only did he have the opportunity to learn more about Jo Sommers, but the vacation afforded him the opportunity to take each sizzling encounter one tryst at a time until they figured out where it would all lead. To a mutually satisfying, temporary affair, he wondered, or something much deeper and more lasting?

By the end of the week, they'd both know the answer to that question.

“So, Ms. Sommers,” he drawled, deciding to place the next move into her capable hands. “Where do we go from here?”

She mulled over the deliberate double meaning of his question, then gave a casual shrug of her shoulder. “We head back to San Francisco to clear your name.”

He grinned. She may have opted for a sensible, practical response, but the undeniable desire still evident in the depths of her eyes left the possibility of a wicked seduction wide open.

 

A
FTER PACKING UP
their belongings into the Suburban, checking out of the motel, and grabbing two large coffees and breakfast sandwiches at the same fast-food restaurant they'd driven through the night before, they were back on Interstate 5 heading through Oregon to California. According to Jo, she calculated that they'd arrive in the late afternoon. If she kept up her current seventy-mile-per-hour pace, Dean had no doubt she'd meet her estimated time of arrival, despite the gray, leaden skies that had been threatening rain for the past two hours.