Could he desire her, even now? Deciding to find out, she boldly leaned down again. She made sure he had a clear view of her exposed breasts as she fiddled with something in her bag.

 He groaned again. A heady sense of power flooded through her. She looked over his body and saw his arousal swelling against the cloth of his trousers. She gasped. Her mind replayed the last time they’d been intimate. In another second, he would have taken her. She remembered how desperate she’d been for him to do just that.

 Doing the forbidden had always rewarded Nicole. And if making love to Sutherland wasn’t forbidden…Slowly she padded over to the bed and sat on the edge, her hand out as she worked up the nerve to touch him.

 His eyes were hooded, and his chest rose and fell quickly. She placed her hands there and lightly stroked him, loving the feel of his hard muscles and the crisp hair that came to a V. She trailed her hand down to the line of hair just above his trousers and followed it, watching his hard stomach dive as her nails grazed his skin.

 She stilled. He was aroused, but what if he didn’t want to desire her? The ropes should have dampened his need. Should she untie him? No, he’d only punish her for hitting him over the head and the embarrassment of being tied up.

 Wondering how to proceed, she absently began stroking him again. Lord, this was madness. She’d knocked him out in order to get away, and although he seemed powerless, he could make her stay. She couldn’t do this. She was just about to jump up and leave when she felt his body tense. Looking down, she saw her own hands petting him…all over. Up and down the sides of his slim hips, caressing the flexing undersides of his bound arms. “Oh!” she gasped, surprised at herself. He pulled away, twisting on his side, and refused to look at her.

 Who was he to turn from her? She wanted him; would she let a few, well, ropes stand in the way?

 She rose up on her knees and, using all her weight to turn him over, sat astride him above his waist. She glimpsed a flash of determination just as he rose up as far as his bonds would allow, forcing her to slide to his lap. He sported a satisfied expression before sinking back again.

 He’s maneuvering me? He’s supposed to be helplessly tied to the bed. Did he think he was the one in control here? Wanting to experience that heady sense of power again, she slowly unbuttoned her shirt. His eyes smoldered.

 She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but he became even harder and hotter beneath her. Instinctively she wriggled against him, finding the right position, getting more comfortable. She thought he cursed against the cloth. She flicked another button open as she slowly moved against him, the pressure and friction eating away any shyness she might have felt.

 With her hands on the sides of her shirt, she asked before her courage faltered, “Do you want to see me, Sutherland?”

 Chapter 20

 Did he want to see her? He wanted to see her, and taste her, and bury himself inside her. He’d been in a living hell of wanting her and being denied her lithe body. All thoughts of throttling her were gone, replaced by a desire so consuming he’d never experienced the like in all his life.

 He was in a less than desirable position, and he knew he’d be furious with not just her but himself later. Yet need pulsed through him, settling like steel in his cock. He burned for her, his desire overwhelming the ache of his abused head. He’d play along. Get her so aroused that she would untie him. The feelings of powerlessness and fury receded; he could bed this little wench if he wanted to, even tied up.

 And, damn it, he wanted to. Under any circumstances.

 He gave a short nod at the questioning look in her eyes, and she slowly, damn her, so slowly pulled her shirt past her breasts. He sucked in a breath and his cock stiffened hungrily. Her breasts, so pale and perfect, were—he’d have to use his memory—silky to touch.

 He looked up to find that she’d faltered, as if she didn’t know what to do next. He nodded pointedly at her trousers. She looked down and fingered the waist of her pants.

 “Do you want me to take these off now?”

 He gave a quick nod again. And watched spellbound as she slipped off his engorged body and stood, shyly unbuttoning her trousers. She pulled on her bottom lip with her teeth, those dark eyes grave with uncertainty. Yet even when she hadn’t a shred of clothing on, she didn’t shy away or cover herself. She resolutely let him look his fill.

 Looking at her soft, smooth body, he thought again that he could not have created a woman who would be more beautiful to him. She fit him as no other had. Her full, upthrusting breasts had molded perfectly in his hand, and the thought of cupping them made him strain against the ropes. He tore his gaze away and ran his eyes slowly down her body, taking in the soft indentation of her waist and the gently flaring hips.

 All thought left him as his eyes continued steadily down to the softly curling hair at the juncture between her thighs. His mouth watered like that of a wolf spying prey. He wanted her under his mouth. When she untied him, he would set upon her in a frenzy with his probing tongue at her wet lips. Fascinated, he watched as a blush crept up her body, as though she knew exactly what he was thinking.

 When she glanced at the door and back, a feeling of unease settled over him. She could change her mind, and he could do nothing to prevent it. He nodded to his own trousers. She understood and seemed glad to have something to do. She stole across to the bed and, with trembling fingers, grasped the top of his trousers, touching his stomach. He couldn’t control the sudden intake of breath or the surging hardness in his pants.

 He cursed his body when she jumped back, looking at him wonderingly. Damn. He hadn’t thought he could get even harder, and now she was even more hesitant. Before she could change her mind, he jerked his head from her to his pants. Without a word, he commanded her to undress him.

 This time she pulled them down determinedly and gasped when he sprang forth. She was riveted, but he didn’t want her to watch him; he needed to be in her now.

 Sutherland again nodded at her and then to himself. What did he want her to do? She was afraid to untie him, yet she wanted this to happen. But he had to be on top of her, didn’t he?

 She moved to the side of the bed, kneeling beside him, staring enthralled at his erection. It was like its own entity, as it throbbed and grew. Beautiful, as though carved from marble, but hot. Its broad tip was moist. Before she could think, she’d placed her hands on it. The hair curling at its base was soft, the sack she hefted taut. She cupped it and weighed it in her hand, making him shudder. A sharp, low utterance escaped him. He pinned her with his stare and spoke against the cloth. Surely, he was asking her to untie him.

 “I won’t untie you.”

 He shook his head. She didn’t think he’d call out to the watch because he wouldn’t want them to see him like this, so slowly, cautiously, she leaned forward, untying the cloth at the back of his head and pulling it free. He took a deep breath and seemed not to know what to say. Unable to stop herself, she returned to stroking the stretched skin of his shaft, noting the sensitivity at the crown. She could touch him forever….

 He flinched as if she’d burned him. “Untie me.”

 “Don’t ask me that, because I won’t.”

 “If you untie me, I can bring you even more pleasure than you found the night of the storm.”

 The events of that night affected her, plagued her, made her burn. But this wasn’t just a memory; she could do the things she wished they’d done that night.

 Her attention kept trailing to her hand gliding up and down his length. Fascinated, a moth to flame, she moved to reach him better, placing a knee between his legs. His thigh came up and pressed between her own. She drew in a shocked breath. She would move away…but it soothed her, like blowing on a burn. She stayed against him, still fondling him.

 That washer hand gripping him. She was panting now, not caring that she’d grown wet against his leg. Then he flexed his hard thigh, making her rock up and down. She bit back a moan. He did it again, then stopped, rasping to her, “Use it, love. Take what you need….”

 And she did. She rode his leg, her right hand holding his sculpted torso, her left hand stroking.

 “Nicole! Look at me.”

 She dragged her gaze from her busy hand.

 His face was pained, his deep voice gravelly. “Do you want me to make you feel things you’ve never felt before?”

 Shivering at the low timbre of his voice, she could only mouth, “Yes.”

 “Put it inside you.”

 She was well past the point of feeling any shyness. Her scalp tightened and her skin tingled. The yearning wetness between her legs drove her to do as he told her.

 When Nicole covered him, as she had his leg, he sucked in a breath and almost exploded instantaneously beneath that dewy heat kissing his flesh. He’d been driven mad when she used his leg, almost came in her hand while she masturbated him, and now to feel her

 “You have to stop that,” he grated. “You have to put me inside you.”

 She glanced down with a nervous look at where their bodies touched.

 In the back of his mind, he felt like a bastard. This position would hurt her more, but he couldn’t turn back. It was her fault, damn her, that he couldn’t take her in a more conventional manner.

 His conscience got the better of him. “This will hurt you…probably worse than it would if I could move over you.”