Darkness stole over her face for a second. She pushed it away with an expert ease he recognized immediately. “Found him passed out in a hotel with an empty bottle at his side. He’d had a heart attack and died on the spot.”

“How old were you?”

“Nineteen. Old enough to get by myself.”

He nodded as if he agreed and understood. Inside, his heart stopped, before the beats resumed. “But you still weren’t old enough to gamble legally.”

“That’s right. I had squirreled enough money to get by. Some of my father’s friends took me in and gave me shelter. And I took the time to learn.” Her smile came fast and hard, with a glitter in her violet eyes. “By the time I walked into the first casino on my own, I made my first grand by the end of the day. I perfected my craft and got sucked into the Poker circuit.”

“Easy to get sucked in, but hard to remain a consistent winner.”

She shrugged again and shook the ice around in her glass. “I have my father’s luck. I don’t drink. And I’m careful with my money.”

Her will, not to simply endure but to thrive, slammed the truth into him like a sucker punch. She made no excuses and asked for no pity. Poker required great skill and control, but in order to win, she forced back any submissive urges. Even in the bedroom. Sloane needed to give up that control in order to feel. Somehow, some way, he knew he needed to push buttons to go deeper.

He wanted to go deeper. But she wasn’t ready. Yet.

“You made your life on your own damn terms.” He spoke in a strong voice without a shred of pity. With a grin, he lowered his head and growled in her ear. “Good girl.”

The familiar term affected her immediately. Her pupils dilated and her heart beat sped up. He scented her arousal, and he bet if he plunged a finger inside her pussy she’d be dripping wet. A few hours before dawn remained. He needed to bust down some of her remaining barriers, and teach her to trust her body. But he needed a decent plan.

His eyes lit on the glass she held. A smile curved his lips.

She stopped shaking the glass. He almost laughed at the combination of wariness and lust gleaming in her eyes. With slow, deliberate motions he reached out and plucked the glass from her fingers.

“Lie back, Sloane.”

She did, though she teetered on the edge of acceptance and rebellion. Her natural submissive tendencies wrapped up in a headstrong hellion made his dick rock-hard. Damn, her very demeanor called to his soul to complete him.

“Now, close your eyes and don’t open them until I tell you.”

He adjusted her on the bed with her hands by her head to lift her breasts upward. The rosy tips of her nipples thrust forward proudly. Beautiful. Pulling up her knees, he opened her pussy to his gaze.

Her eyes flew open. “What are you doing?”

A deep sigh escaped him.” Another direct order disobeyed.”

“I’m not your sub, buddy.” Fire lit from her gaze.” And I like my eyes open.”

He left her for a moment and returned with a silk pillowcase. “Again, we’ll do it the hard way.”

“But what—”

Moving fast, he bound her wrists again to the headboard. He rolled the silk fabric of the pillowcase into a sleek rope and placed it over her eyes, tying a snug knot behind her head.

“Roman!”

“Our night isn’t over yet, and you lost the bet. Now, if you say another word, I’m going to gag you.”

Silence ensued. He smothered a laugh and sat beside her. Her body vibrated with tension. He laid his hands on the sleek, silky muscles of her shoulders and began to ease out the knots. He took his time with a deep massage until she softened beneath his touch. Slowly, he eased down to her breasts. The full mounds filled his hands perfectly, and her nipples jutted out in cranky demand for attention. “Just relax, sweetheart, and let me pleasure you.”

“But—”

“Shhhhh.” His mouth covered hers, gently playing with her tongue and sipping at her lower lip. He played with her breasts, wringing out a moan, and worked his way down her body. When he reached her feet, he used his knuckles on her instep and heel. Her sigh of pleasure raked across his ears. Every muscle surrendered to his touch, open to every sensation he chose to bestow. Satisfaction coursed through him.

He plucked an ice cube from the glass. And touched it to one of her nipples.

She arched up, but the ties held her, and he moved the ice over each hard nipple. The color turned a deep ruby red, and goose bumps broke over her skin. Lowering his head, he sucked and rolled his tongue around the tip until she moaned. When she relaxed against the heat of his mouth, he slid the cube down her belly, dipped into her navel and coasted to her inner thighs. He kept his mouth busy, alternating his hot tongue with the cold ice until she writhed under him, lit with arousal.

Grabbing another block from the glass, he hovered it over her clit. Slowly, he slid his fingers in and out of her pussy, wringing out moisture, while his tongue worked her with long, hot strokes. Her hips bucked. A smile curved his lips, and he pressed the cube against her swollen nub.

She came apart, the orgasm wracking her body in beautiful form. He quickly sheathed himself with a condom and slid home.

Her tight heat squeezed around him mercilessly. He plunged over and over, claiming her for his own, as he pinched her nipples. With one final thrust, he came hard. Her pussy clenched around his dick with her orgasm, and he rode out his release before he collapsed on top of her in a tangle of limbs. He pressed a kiss to her sweat-dampened skin, released her bonds, and gathered her close. Her scent rose to his nostrils, and the thud of her heart beat steadily against his ear. Foreboding washed over him as he gazed at her face, replete with satisfaction. She’d wrecked his world.

He wondered if he’d ever be the same man again.

* * *

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He replaced the receiver on the phone and walked toward the bed. Except the man didn’t really walk. More like claimed the space around him. He was even more powerful naked, as if he belonged in the Garden of Eden and had never taken a bite of the apple.

“Getting us some dinner. I have plans and they require energy.”

She stretched her sore muscles with a languid sensuality she’d never experienced. “I have a big game tomorrow. At least let me walk into the room with some dignity and not hobbled by too much sex.”

His laugh sounded low and promising. Goose bumps lifted on her arms. Halfway annoyed at her quick response to a man she’d met only hours earlier, she rose from the bed and went to the bathroom for a robe.

“Don’t.” His voice lashed through the air.

She stopped mid-stride. “Don’t what?”

He closed the distance between them. “Don’t put on a robe. I like you naked.”

Pleasure speared her belly. She’d always felt too skinny, worried about her small breasts and her lanky height. His gaze and mouth and hands worshipped every inch of her, and his impressive erection proved his desire. Still, she wasn’t so far along that she enjoyed walking around naked. She forced a laugh. “Thanks for the complement, but I feel more comfortable with a robe on.”

He smiled slowly. “I want to look at you while we eat and imagine what I’m going to do to you later. No robe.”

A touch of uneasiness skated down her spine, along with the familiar sizzle. Why did he turn her on so much with his demands and orders? She raised her chin up and gave him an icy glare. “Sorry, but I like to eat with my clothes on.”

A discreet knock on the door halted the stare down. She scurried into the bathroom, relieved at the interruption and donned a luxurious white spa robe, slipping her feet into matching slippers. She cursed under her breath when she found no ties—he’d made use of them, the bastard—but she wrapped it tight like a kimono and marched back out of the bathroom.

The table was set with white linen, sparkling china, and a bottle of chilled champagne. A solitary candle burned from the center, casting the room in romantic shadow. The scents of savory steak and herbs rose to her nostrils. Her stomach growled on cue as he lifted the silver dome and revealed buttery mashed potatoes, crisp green beans, and gravy. He handed her a flute of champagne alive with bubbles and she took a luxurious sip, noting the wonderful tones of Dom Pérignon.

His gaze took in her appearance with obvious disapproval. She readied for battle, intent on winning one round, but he waved his hand in dismissal and pulled out her chair. “I’m unhappy about your decision to disobey me, Sloane.” His voice cut smooth as caramel, but the warning pulsed beneath. Unease slithered in her belly. “We’ll have to address that later. First, I think we both need to eat.”

Since she had no intelligent comeback other than a curse, she glared at him from behind her bangs and dug in.

The meat melted in her mouth. She ate with gusto and focus, until her plate was clean.

“I see you eat like you have sex,” he said, amused. “No holds barred. It’s nice to see that famous control slip away.”

Her back stiffened. “My so called famous control makes me an excellent gamer,” she said, formally. “I’m sorry if that bothers you.”

He put down his fork and studied her. She refused to fidget and met his gaze head on, the stormy blue of his eyes sucking her in like an undertow. “Your control doesn’t bother me, Sloane. It’s part of who you are, and got you to the top. It also got you out of the slums and kept you alive.” His gaze ripped her polished surface to shreds, leaving her open and vulnerable. “Do you like being in control?”