Slowly, he lifted his head. Inky dark eyes seethed with a blistering heat that seared through her and crashed every ounce of resistance. “No, Maggie,” he said fiercely. “This is not a lie anymore. We are not a lie. I want to make love to you, my wife. Right now. Will you let me?”

His honor came first, and Maggie knew only a shake of her head would force him to his own separate corner. Dear God, what was wrong with her? Why did she want this man so much after only a few hours of being in his arms? He’d destroy her.

He waited for her decision.

Her body and mind warred, but deep inside, the tiny voice triumphed. Take what you can get now and you’ll have the memories. She’d survived much worse. But she didn’t think she could survive pushing him away tonight.

She dragged his mouth to hers. He kissed her completely, his tongue tangling with hers as he carried her to the bed. Each movement melted into the next as he stripped off her clothes and explored every part of her body with hands and mouth and tongue. She moaned as he brought her to the brink, stopped, then stripped off his own clothes and started again. She writhed and begged until finally he parted her thighs and paused at her entrance.

As if sensing her innate fear, he immediately rolled her to the side without question, grabbed her hips, and pulled her down onto his shaft.

He filled every aching crevice and she cried out and began moving, frantic for release. His hands rubbed her breasts, flicking the tips, and with one final scrape against her clit she exploded into a thousand pieces.

He cried out her name as they rode out the orgasm, until she collapsed on top of his chest. His arms came around her and he whispered in her ear. “This is real.”

Maggie didn’t answer. Her heart wept, and her lips trembled to burst out the words inside of her, screaming to be free. I love you. But the taunting whisper reminded her of the only truth she’d ever known. Not forever. No one could love you forever.

So she said nothing. Just closed her eyes and slept.

* * *

Michael sat beside the bed with two flutes filled with champagne, watching her sleep. Odd that only yesterday, he’d claimed her for the first time. Usually, once he slept with a woman he cared about, the edge of need dulled a bit more at each encounter, each day, until nothing was left but a lukewarm friendship they both couldn’t do anything with. But now, looking down at his new wife, a sense of excitement and rightness coursed through his blood. The same exact feeling he’d embraced on the track, the call of the unknown with a deep knowledge he was meant to drive a race car.

Maggie was meant to be his.

He knew this now. Accepted it. Realized he needed to make some careful moves if he was ever going to convince her they could have a real marriage. Funny, how love seemed this distant, magical thing in the future until you wanted it so bad, you actually pretended feelings were there that never were.

Now he knew. All along, he’d been waiting for Maggie Ryan.

He’d sensed the connection that night of their blind date. Her wit and kick-ass sexuality pummeled him like a sucker punch. She fascinated him on every level, but the lure of something deeper and more permanent sang in his blood, so he’d frozen in fear. He knew once he made love to her he’d never want to let her go. And she was everything he believed he didn’t want in a wife. He sensed she’d stomp his heart to tiny pieces, and he’d never recover.

He’d thought of her many times throughout the year, but always pushed her image to the back of his mind, convincing himself they would be an impossible couple. Now, it seemed every step led straight to Rome.

She was his soul mate.

He just needed to convince her.

But in order to do that, he needed to break down some walls. Michael took a deep breath at the task ahead. He’d been thinking of the right course of action to take, but it was a risky move. He wanted to reach her on a deeper level, and her constant unease with him taking control in bed told him she owned secrets that needed to be told. Could she ever trust him enough to share? Could she ever completely surrender?

He was about to find out.

She opened her eyes.

He smiled at that sleepy, satisfied look as she stretched against the pillows. The sheet fell and offered him the tempting sight of her perfect breasts. She grinned. “See anything you like?”

She’d put him in an early grave, but he’d go to heaven with a smile on his face. He shook his head and handed her the glass of champagne. “The letter C stands for all the items needed in life,” she said. “Coffee, chocolate, and champagne.” She sighed with contentment and took another drink.

Michael leaned back in the antique floral chair and smirked. “Aren’t you missing the best letter of all?”

“What’s that?”

“S. For sex.”

Her grin grew wider and more satisfied. His erection rose to full staff and he shifted in the chair. “Oh, Count, when are you going to learn all the American words?” she drawled. “C is also for climax.”

He burst out in laughter and shook his head. “Cara, you are amazing. Both in and out of bed.”

“I try.” She sipped her champagne, but Michael sensed her guard already solidifying. He needed to move at a steady pace and keep her off balance.

“Maggie, do you like being in control?”

“Is that a bad thing?”

He kept his gaze steady but she refused to lift her head. “Not at all. You’re a strong woman and you wouldn’t have made it this far in life without such a quality. I just wondered how you felt about being dominated in bed.”

She gasped and her head shot up. “Why? Do you like domination?” She shuddered. “I’m not into that sub stuff, Count. I’ve read those BDSM novels but whips just don’t do it for me.”

Dios, he was nuts about her. “No, cara, I’m not into pain, either. It seems you prefer to control the lovemaking, which is fine, but I wonder if you’ve ever truly surrendered.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I surrender every time I climax. What are you getting at?”

He went to the bathroom, tugged two of the sashes from the luxurious white robes, and returned to the bed.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “Getting kinky?”

He sat beside her. “Do you trust me, Maggie?”

Wariness skated over her features. “Why?”

“Do you?”

She hesitated. “Yes. I do trust you.”

Relief coursed through him at the raw honesty in her voice. “Thank you. I’m asking you to let me do something to you.”

“What?”

“Tie you up.”

A strangled laugh escaped her lips, but it lacked humor. “Tell me you’re joking. Can’t we just have regular sex?”

“Yes. But I want more with you. I want to give you so much pleasure you explode. I want you to be able to let go, on your own terms. I’m asking you to trust me enough to surrender your control for tonight. If you get uncomfortable, tell me to stop and I will. Will you do this for me?”

She sat up and stared at the ties, biting down hard on her lip. “I don’t know if I can give up control,” she admitted.

“I think you can.” A smile touched his lips as he dangled the ties out in a teasing gesture meant to calm her nerves. “We can have some fun. I always dreamed of tying up my wife. You can make my fantasy come true.”

He waited patiently while she thought the scenario out. Emotions warred and fought for dominance. Finally, she nodded. “I’ll try.” She blew out an annoyed breath. “But only because you have some bondage fetish I think you need to get out of your system.”

He laughed. With deliberate motions, he tied her wrists together over her head with one sash, and with the other, he wrapped them around the post by the headboard. She tugged, and he made sure there was plenty of slack so she wouldn’t feel trapped. Just enough to allow her the freedom to let go. His arousal simmered at her naked body.

“Now what?” She blew the hair out of her face and frowned.

Michael grinned at her cranky expression, straddled her, and looked down.

All humor left him in a rush. She was gorgeous—all sleek curves and muscles. Slowly, he leaned over and kissed her deep, plunging into her mouth, thrusting his tongue in and out in a precursor of what he planned to do to her. When he released her lips, she breathed hard, and her eyes misted with arousal.

He took his time. He nibbled and sucked on her nipples and let his hands drift over her belly, her hips, then slide behind her to cup her ass and spread her legs wider. His fingers paused on the nub begging for his touch, then plunged into her channel.

She cried out and pulled at her ties. He pushed her higher, using two fingers to sink into her wet heat while his thumb flicked at her clit. Every muscle beneath him quivered with anticipation, and she writhed on the bed.

“Damn you, untie me! I want to touch you.”

“Not yet, cara. I am having too much fun with my fantasy.”

She cursed him and he laughed, dipped his head, and tasted her.

She came hard. Her scream ripped from her throat, and he allowed her to ride out the wave. When she surfaced, her flushed skin trembled helplessly underneath him. He pushed her thighs wider apart and drove his penis in with one solid thrust.

He gritted his teeth and prayed for control. Her channel clenched him in a tight vise, and spasms shook her body like ministorms. He filled her completely and pure pleasure exploded within him. Slowly, he pressed her down into the mattress.

“Michael.” Her glazed eyes suddenly shone in panic, and she bucked beneath him, tugging at the restraints with a frantic motion. “Don’t.”