Bound and Determined (12 page)

Shit.

Rafe made his way down the hall, to the closet. He quickly dressed in his slacks and dress shirt. “Where is my laptop?”

As he reappeared in the bedroom door fully dressed, panic tightened Kerry’s face, widened her eyes. “Rafe, can’t we talk about this? I know you’re angry, but—”

“Where the hell is my laptop?”

“In the living room, next to the TV,” she murmured, tears welling in her green eyes. “Are you leaving now?”

He should. He should. He knew he should . . . but somehow he didn’t want to, not until he savored her every delight . . . and tortured her a bit with her own medicine.

Mind spinning with possibilities, he approached her and reached for the handcuff key. “I promised to look into your brother’s situation. You promised me forty-eight hours of sex. I’m going to work on my end of the deal now. I’m uncuffing you so you can rest and live up to yours later. Until I come to you, leave me the hell alone.”

F
or three hours, Kerry listened to Rafe in the front room, trying to imagine what he was doing on her brother’s behalf. It beat trying to forget everything they’d done together in this rumpled bed. The orgasm he’d given her had made her body explode with such force, Kerry was stunned her brain hadn’t burst with it. The feel of his tongue rasping over her slick flesh while his finger prodded the bundle of nerves inside her . . . even the memory electrified her more than a light parade at Disney World.

Equally enticing was the freedom and power she’d had with Rafe’s body. Like velvet steel under her hands, his skin enthralled her. He wasn’t one of those bodybuilders whose biceps exceeded their brain cells. He was lean, like a swimmer. The salty-musky man scent and taste of him had her hormones doing the Macarena. Tiffany really had given oral sex a bad rap. What a rush! Feeling Rafe tense, hearing him groan as he clutched her hair in his fingers, gentle yet
aggressive. That’s how Rafe kissed her, touched her. If he took her to bed in that same fashion . . . Well, the thought made her shiver.

Again, he’d persuaded her through his touch, his kiss, to say yes. Even after he’d given her plenty of opportunity to say no. How was that possible? She wasn’t easy, except with him.

In a weird way, she trusted him. He had no reason to be kind. When he had stayed with her after managing to trick her and tie her down, she’d been stunned. Of course, he must actually want her. Guys couldn’t fake an erection—at least not that she was aware of.

And there was no denying that, despite everything, she wanted him.

“What the hell?” Kerry heard him mutter down the hall.

The tapping of the keyboard and a few soft curses later, he rose to pace the hardwood floors. None of that sounded promising, and Kerry wished she knew more about computers than surfing AOL required. Jason had always called it Internet with training wheels. Maybe she should have tried to come out of her cybershell. Too late now. It was up to Rafe.

Could he find anything to help Mark?

Before the abduction, Kerry had been certain that an expert like the esteemed Rafael Dawson could find the proof needed to free her brother. So certain, she would have bet a lung. Now she wondered. Maybe it wasn’t that easy. Could someone alter, freeze, or heaven forbid, erase the files that might prove Mark innocent?

Positive energy,
she told herself. Rafe was the best; he’d find something.

Tiptoeing down the hall, Kerry peeked into the front room—and drew in a sharp breath.

Rafe sat, gorgeous and shirtless, in the cottage’s red leather chair. Muscles rippled along his bronzed shoulders and back, around the sizable width of his arms, every time he moved. A pulse of heat beat low in her belly, and Kerry chastised herself. No matter how yummy, now was not the time to indulge her overactive hormones with Rafe. Biting her lip, she held in a sigh.

His laptop rested on the ottoman. Rafe’s gaze alternated between her file folder full of Mark’s case information and the
square color screen. Kerry didn’t want to disturb him, but the suspense was killing her. She also didn’t want to endure another tongue-lashing. Suffering Rafe’s sarcastic temper was not her idea of fun.

“You don’t follow directions well, do you?” he asked, not looking up from his work.

He’d heard her? Tugging the lavender shirt over the short shorts she’d donned, she asked, “How did you know I was here?”

Casting a glance over his shoulder, Rafe shot her a sardonic glance. “Let’s just say you shouldn’t apply to work for Spy-master.”

“I can’t be that loud. I have bare feet,” she protested while wiggling her toes.

He snorted. “I grew up listening for the sounds of sneaky servants and my father. If I didn’t listen hard enough and move fast enough, there was hell to pay.”

“In trouble a lot as a kid? I can picture that.”

“My fair share, anyway.” He shrugged.

Kerry’s imagination provided an image of Rafe, all dark razor-cut hair and fancy prep school uniform framing silver eyes full of mischief. The only thing that had changed since then was his clothes . . . or lack thereof. Damn it all, why didn’t the man put on a shirt so she could think straight?

“Find anything yet?” she asked.

Rafe glanced over his shoulder, that hot silver gaze zeroing in on her. “You mean other than the fact you’re wearing clothes when I told you not to?”

“I mean about my brother.” She anchored her hands on her hips.

He shrugged. “Still looking into it. Tell me, was Mark a smart guy in school?”

“Honors all the way. He was a whiz with math and science. Without him, I would never have made it through my first semester in college. Algebra Two nearly did me in.”

The smile Rafe tried to suppress showed through. “What about computers? Does he know much about them?”

“Only what he learned at the bank. Jason had been teaching him some . . . before his arrest. Mark had just been promoted to assistant manager and needed more computer skills.”

Something in Rafe’s gaze sharpened. “Do you know what Jason taught him?”

Kerry shook her head. “It all sounded like Greek to me. If I was at Mark’s house when he and Jason talked cybergoo, I usually found my sister-in-law, Tiffany. She’s always good for chats about
General Hospital
and the merits of nail polish.”

“Hmm.”

“What’s that mean?” she demanded.

“Maybe nothing. I don’t know yet.” Rafe twisted in the red leather chair and riveted her in place with a challenge of a stare. “Let’s talk about you. Let’s talk about the fact you’re dressed in more than your birthday suit.”

“Well, I . . .” she sputtered, as caught off guard by his tone as by the tension coiling low in her belly. “I assumed that since you weren’t in the room—”

“Don’t assume. I have total control, right?”

Was he serious? And was she actually aroused already? “Yeah.”

“Naked means naked. Off with it. Now.”

Blinking, Kerry paused. “In the middle of the living room?”

“Whenever, wherever, and however I say. So, now, here, strip.”

God, she should hate this. She took orders for her meager living, for Pete’s sake. Oh, but she’d never taken orders like this, from someone as sexy as Rafe. With a few words, her pulse began to skitter. Her nipples beaded. He could see, Kerry knew. She’d opted against a bra, and even now his gaze caressed the hard tips. They only got harder as he stared.

Her body might be on autopilot to Orgasm Land, but her brain still had a little autonomy. And it wanted him just as hard.

Reaching for the hem of her T-shirt, Kerry lifted it slowly up her torso. Cool air glided over her abdomen, her ribs, finally rushing across her breasts. Her nipples tightened even more.

“No bra.” His raspy voice more than hinted that he wasn’t immune.

Kerry looked right at Rafe, met his molten stare. The connection of their gazes whipped through her like a live wire carrying twenty thousand volts. Her body tingled, her vagina
dampened and clenched just from his mere stare. She wondered how much longer her watery knees would support her. Likely not past his first touch.

“No bra,” she murmured.

“I approve. I hope you didn’t disappoint me by wearing panties.”

Swallowing, she bit her lip nervously.

“That’s mine to bite,” he warned. “Don’t play with it. In fact, don’t play with any part of your body without my permission.”

His quiet commands drilled through her composure, past the veneer of civilization. She’d always pictured that she’d like a nice guy and they’d have nice sex. Nothing about Rafe was nice, including her scorching reaction to him. The likelihood they’d have nice sex ranked up there with the Loch Ness monster suddenly walking on land, or Tiffany joining a think tank.

“Yes.” She had the oddest urge to add on
sir,
or
master,
or something.

“You’re wearing panties, aren’t you?”

Resisting the nervous urge to bite her lip, she answered, “Yes.”

“Bad girl. Until we’re done here, you don’t wear them anymore. You don’t wear anything at all.”

He crossed his arms over his massive chest and stared at her with an arrogant brow raised, as if he were some sultan making a pronouncement. Her mind rejected the idea of being totally submissive, despite how much her libido was enjoying it. Still, she’d made a bargain . . .

“Are you this way with all women?”

“Not really.” He hesitated and seemed to have something to say. In the end, he just shook his head. “No.”

Kerry frowned. A wealth of meaning lay in that nonanswer. She had no idea what, though. Why would he treat her differently than other women?

“Stop stalling. As hot as those swollen nipples are, I want it all. And y ou’re still half-dressed.”

Closing her eyes, Kerry felt her pulse pounding between her thighs. He just didn’t give up. And she couldn’t stop liking this dominating side of him—a little too much for her comfort. Was it him? Was it her? Did she have some sex fever she’d never heard of?

With shaking fingers, she plucked at the button of her denim shorts. The slow rasp of the zipper followed, the sound magnified by the utter silence. In its aftermath, she heard her breathing shallow, heard her heartbeat in her ears.

Wait!
This shouldn’t be one-sided. She’d never been easy before. Why start now?

Raising her chin, Kerry stripped off the low-rise shorts—and only the shorts. She crossed her arms over her naked breasts to drive home the point that her little black bikini panties would stay firmly in place. Never mind that the two triangles of fabric barely covered the essentials. Never mind they were completely transparent. They were a bit like a bad birthday gift—it was the thought that counted.

“Defying me already?” Rafe wore a shark’s smile, tinged with a hint of sin.

Kerry’s knees went weak, and she leaned against the wall for support. “Yeah. So?”

“You’re proving to be a very naughty girl who needs to be punished.”

Cocking her head, she regarded him with a barely concealed smile. “You’d like to be the guy to dish it out, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, I would.” He rose to his feet, his sizzling stare wiping the smile off her face and nailing her to the floor.

“Take them off.” His whisper whipped desire through her every nerve.

“What if I don’t want to?”

“You want to.”

She did her best to look affronted, though she could feel her nipples hardening again under her forearms. “That’s awfully presumptuous.”

“Not really.” Rafe lowered his gaze to the panties, zeroing in on the patch at the front. “You’ve made those panties so wet, they’re clinging to you.”

His stare challenged her to deny it. She couldn’t.

“Now, be a good girl,” he murmured, walking closer, closer, until he pinned her back flat against the wall and covered her bare chest with his own. His fingers locked in hers as he held her arms above her head.

Kerry gasped at the heat.

“Take them off,” he whispered, eyes scorching.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Kerry closed her eyes, trying to absorb the overload of sensations and emotions Rafe elicited. His heat and musk enveloped her, while his voice inflamed her. No, that wasn’t all. He made her feel sexy.

For the first time in her life, a smart, stylish guy like Rafe wanted her. She wasn’t from Fantasyland; she knew it wasn’t forever. But to imagine that she could intrigue him enough to persuade him to stay and help her, that he would desire her as hotly as his eyes claimed . . . it was her own for-now fantasy. And she was determined to enjoy it.

She wriggled one hand free of Rafe’s grasp and plucked at the strings holding up her panties. The sheer black scrap fell to the ground, leaving her completely bare.

Rafe took half a step back and devoured her with silver eyes that all but glowed with lust.

“You make me crazy,” he whispered as he closed in and wrapped his hand around her nape.

His mouth came crashing down on hers. Nothing about his kiss was tentative. He took her mouth in a deep, possessive claiming from the first touch. Kerry opened to him like a drowning woman welcomed a life raft. Instead of saving her, though, his touch created waves of desire that tugged her under, where common sense no longer applied, where nothing but this man and the way they felt together mattered.

His mouth left hers, nipping at the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder, before traveling down to hover over her breast. He licked the hard point of her nipple with a quick rasp of his tongue, then dragged the edge of his fingertip over the sensitive flesh. He finished with a puff of cool air.

Lightning streaked through her body. Kerry cried out.

“I love how responsive you are. You could come for me in the next two minutes, couldn’t you?”

Before she could answer, Rafe massaged her nipple from root to tip once, twice, before his fingers glided their way down her belly and into the soft nest of curls between her thighs. It took him less than an instant to find her clit, now beyond wet and throbbing. With sure fingers, he began caressing her with wicked, circling strokes.

Kerry gasped, her head falling back against the wall as
pleasure drenched her, stealing her voice, buckling her knees. Rafe held her up, silently demanding she take what he gave her.