Sinful Desire Page 4

  “Show me,” she whispered, then her eyes floated closed as he touched her, fingertips brushing her back. They traveled higher, and she arched into his hand, like a cat being pet. He reached her hair, winding a loose, blonde strand around his index finger, cataloguing the expression on her face, the way her features were so soft, so open—her lips parted, her eyes closed, her breath gentle.

  He let her long curls fall through his fingers as she molded to him.

  Then he showed her what else he liked. That he wasn’t soft. That he wasn’t gentle. With his fingers gripping her hair, he tugged.

  Hard.

  Her eyes snapped open, and they blazed at him. “That wasn’t gentlemanly.”

  “I know,” he said, her hair still twisted in his fist. “And you liked it. Now, have you got any more questions about how I am in bed?”

  She gulped. A touch of nervousness seemed to flicker across her eyes. “Not at the moment.” She blinked and seemed to rearrange her features as he let go of her hair, smoothing it out as it fell along her neck. “So tell me, Mr. Green Tie, what did you learn about me when you went hunting for information?”

  He learned she shared DNA with the lead detective re-investigating his father’s murder. But that wasn’t exactly information that needed to be served up for small talk. “I learned you know everyone here, and can convince anyone to contribute to a worthy cause. Lots of money. Insane amounts.”

  She pursed her lips together. “That does sound like one of my skills,” she said playfully.

  “I learned you do it because you can. Because you made your mint already and now you give back.”

  “True, true. Does that bother you?”

  “That you made a mint?”

  She nodded. “Yes. That can intimidate some men. When a woman is successful.”

  He scoffed. “I’m not easily intimidated. And I happen to think successful women are”—he moved in closer, his lips daringly close to hers—“incredibly hot.” He skimmed his hand from her shoulder down her arm, unable to resist touching her. “But that’s what I learned from your bio, Sophie. I know other things about you, just from these last ten minutes.”

  “What do you know?” she asked as the singer began a new tune, and the purple lights swooshed across the dance floor.

  He ran a fingertip along her wrist, her chest rising as she drew in a quick breath. “That you like being touched.”

  She nodded. “If a man knows how.”

  “That you like to play games.”

  She frowned. “You make that sound bad.”

  “Games aren’t bad.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I bet you like to play pretend. Make believe. Role-play.”

  “I have an idea,” she said in a purr, as she roped her hands around his neck then trailed her fingertips across the back of it, her touch a jolt of pleasure. “We could pretend, say, that we just met, and I’m curious about the man who has been in my thoughts. All I want is a little something. A little bit of intel to round out the picture. How about this for a simple question? Since you know what occupied my time in college, why don’t you tell me what occupied yours?”

  This was easy. He could tell her his college major without giving up too much. “History.”

  “Why history?”

  “I like to understand what motivates people. Why they do what they do.”

  “And did you learn what motivates people?”

  “Usually it’s a desire for property or money.”

  She smiled ruefully. “Sounds about right. What about sports? Did you play sports?”

  “Yes. Hockey. Right wing.”

  “Did you cause fights?” she asked, curiosity dripping from her voice.

  He shook his head, his lips in a smirk, proud to be able to say no. “I was the one who stopped the fights.”

  Her eyes widened. “Interesting. Why is that?”

  “I like to be in control.”

  She inched her hands up toward his hair, and he grasped her wrists and returned them to his shoulders. “What line of business are you in?” she asked.

  “Security.”

  “What do you do in security? Watch over banks? Guard the mall?” she said, lightness in her tone.

  He laughed and shook his head. “No. I run a security company. Does that turn you on?”

  “If you’re asking if your job turns me on, the answer is no. And that’s because I don’t find jobs a turn-on or off.” She danced her fingers down the front of his shirt. “I find men who know what they want a turn-on.”

  “I know what I want.”

  “You do. You want me.”

  “So fucking much,” he growled. He tugged her in closer, aligning his body to hers, letting her feel how he wanted her already. A sexy sigh escaped her lips as he brought her near to him. She fit in his arms perfectly. Like that, they danced and moved under the dim lights to the next few songs, chatting about Vegas, and the event, and the silent auction, as he asked her questions about the gala and the hospital it benefitted.

  “See? You are a gentleman. Asking a woman questions. Getting to know her,” she said, then touched a lock of his hair that had fallen on his forehead. He caught her arm, his fingers wrapping tightly around her flesh. He bent his head and brushed his lips against her wrist.

  Their first kiss, and he was nowhere near her lips. But the skin of her arm had that same sultry, sexy scent as her neck. He let his lips linger on her wrist, then let go. “You taste fantastic,” he said, holding her eyes, letting his meaning register.

  “Do I?”

  “Yes. You do. I bet you taste delicious everywhere.”

  She waved a hand in front of her face. “It’s getting awfully hot out here. I’m afraid I might combust if we stay on the dance floor like this.” She tipped her head to the bar. “Drink?”

  He nodded and pressed his lips briefly to her neck, dusting a kiss on her collarbone. A soft moan floated to his ears. He was going to have a field day with Sophie Winston. She was a dream—every touch, every taste and she murmured, she sighed, she moaned.

  He hadn’t even properly kissed her yet.

  They threaded their way to the bar where he asked for two champagnes. As he reached for the flutes, a woman in a high-necked maroon dress and a severe bun zeroed in on Sophie, commanding her focus to ask her opinion on how the children’s wing should be decorated. As that woman finished, another darted in, declaring that she knew a building contractor, and she could up her donation if that would help secure the contract. Sophie was gracious with all of them, but after a few minutes she tossed Ryan a save me glance.

  He stepped in next to her, handed her a glass of champagne, and flashed a smile at the two ladies. “I hope you’ll forgive me for interrupting, but I have to leave shortly, since I’ve been called to the hospital to do an unplanned surgery.”

  The woman in maroon shot him a curious look. “Oh, you’re a surgeon?”

  He nodded. “I am. And I need two minutes with our Sophie before I have to begin a bone graft.”

  The other woman eyed his champagne. He quickly thrust it at her. “Please. Take this from me. I can’t drink on surgery nights, of course. I don’t even know why the bartender gave it to me. But I hate to be rude,” Ryan said, shaking his head as if he couldn’t bear the thought of turning down the man tending bar.

  “Of course you don’t want to be rude. You’re a respected surgeon,” the second woman said in a commanding voice.

  “And we don’t want to be rude either,” the maroon woman added. “Please. Go on. We don’t want to keep you from the bone graft.”

  “Thank you so much,” he said and turned to leave, the beautiful bombshell by his side, her lips pressed together so she wouldn’t laugh.

  “Bone graft?” she whispered from the side of her mouth as they walked off.

  “I suppose bones, and the hardness of them, must be on my mind.” Then he shrugged. “Besides, I needed to come up with something or we’d never have a moment alone.”

 
“You want to be alone with me?”

  “Isn’t it abundantly apparent?”

  “From the hardness of your bones? Why yes, it does seem quite abundant,” she said with an amused expression as she cast her eyes to his pants.

  He stopped at the side door, away from the crowds. He lowered his voice, and spoke in a rough, husky tone. “You turned me on from the second I laid eyes on you this afternoon. You are gorgeous and beautiful, and everything about you arouses me. Abundantly.”

  Her chest rose and fell and she exhaled heavily. “Oh God,” she whispered.

  “Can you get away?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “I have to present a few awards on stage in—”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan spotted a woman in a sharp black dress marching purposely in their direction. She pointed at Sophie.

  “I think someone’s looking for you.”

  The woman stopped when she reached them. “Sophie, you have seven minutes before we need you on stage again.”

  “Thank you so much, Kelley.”

  The woman spun efficiently on her heel and walked off.

  Sophie turned back to him. “I can’t get away.”

  “No. You can’t. Let me walk you backstage so you don’t miss your presentation.”

  Chapter Five

  The black curtain hugged the small stage, shielding them from the crowds still dancing and enjoying the music. Here, off to the side, in this section of the wings, Sophie was all alone with her stranger.

  His eyes roamed her body. The look in them was predatory. He stalked her, and she backed up, step by step in her heels, until she hit the black wood wall. “You have six minutes now before you go out there,” he said in a hungry voice, his fingertips brushing the fabric of her dress along her thigh. “Do you know what I can do to you in six minutes to make you feel amazing?”

  The temperature inside her shot sky high. A pulse beat between her legs. She was hot and she was wet. She’d been turned on ever since he’d asked her to dance.

  “What can you do?” she asked, feeling both utterly vulnerable and completely aroused. It was a matchstick combination for Sophie.

  “Do you want me to tell you?” He roamed his hand up her leg, reaching her waist, making her shudder.

  “I do,” she said breathily, her body on the cusp of something intense. Something she wanted desperately.

  “What I’ve been thinking about since I met you.” He raised his hand and cupped her cheek. His touch was both gentle and possessive. “First, I’m going to place my hand on your beautiful face, and your knees will go weak, because I’ll finally be touching you the way you’ve been fantasizing about since this afternoon,” he said¸ his hot breath painting her skin.

  “That’s cocky.”

  “It is,” he said with a nod as he ran his thumb along her jawline. “But it’s also true. From the moment I met you, I knew I’d have my hands on you. You knew it, too. Felt it, too.”

  She nodded as she trembled from the trace of his finger. “I did feel it.”

  He brought his mouth to her ear and spoke softly. “If I ever do or say something you don’t like, tell me. Or smack me. I only want to bring you pleasure.” His words were both sexy and earnest. The combination sent flutters through her belly. “Immense pleasure.”

  “You already are. So tell me something else that’s true. Something else you know,” she said, loving the hot, dirty way he talked to her as he touched her.

  “I’m going to look into your eyes like I want to take you,” he said, his eyes blazing with desire. “That look will drive you wild. And you’ll swallow nervously because you don’t know me, and it’s odd wanting a stranger as much as you do.” He was reading her like a teenage diary. On the one hand, she was nervous. She didn’t know him at all. But she was also aroused beyond words. Beyond reason. Beyond any normal limits.

  For that same reason—because she didn’t know him.

  “Then, you’ll run a hand down my tie,” he told her, and she reached out instantly, doing exactly as he said, loving the directions he gave. Sophie craved this kind of interaction. She wanted a man to command her. So much time was spent deciding, and doing, and planning. It drove her brain batty, and she longed for this kind of release from her days.

  “Do you know why you’re so fascinated with my tie?” he asked huskily, his eyes pinned on her. He practically fucked her with his gaze. It was so intense. His confidence set her on fire. It torched a path across her body, sizzling her skin.

  “Tell me,” she said, eager for more of his words. “Since you seem to know me so well. Tell me.”

  He brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek. Oh God, she was dying for him to kiss her. She was so eager to feel those lips. To taste him.

  He grasped a wrist with one hand, yanking it up his chest and loosely wrapping the end of his tie around her hand. “You want me to tie you up.”

  “How do you know that?” she asked, her voice stripped to the bones. He knew her. He read her. He could sense everything she wanted. He crowded her against the wall. Heaven Leigh belted out her song on stage. The inky black of the backstage cloaked them.

  “Am I wrong?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. “If I’m wrong, tell me and I’ll walk away.”

  She shook her head. “Are you going to take it off? Tie me up?” she asked in a voice that hardly sounded like hers. It belonged to the part of her that had been untended for years.

  He grinned wickedly. “No. I have other ways to tie you up,” he said, and in a flash, he gripped her wrists in his big strong hands, wrapping his fingers around her, binding her as he yanked her hands behind her back. Heat flared in her body, spinning through her, settling between her legs. Her gorgeous, sexy panties were so damp right now they were useless.

  She ached for his touch. And she could do nothing but wait for it since she was his hostage.

  He was so strong she couldn’t wriggle away if she wanted to. His thumbs dug into her wrist bones, pinning her hands above her ass, rendering her helpless. The pressure from the twist in her arms bordered on pain, and felt oh so good.

  There was no space between the two of them. Only breath. Only words and his bare, husky voice. “Do you know what else I’ve been thinking about all day?”

  She shook her head.

  He inched closer, his mouth mere centimeters from hers. Her lips parted, so ready for him. God, she needed him to kiss her. Needed it badly. He was making her wait for it. Making her nearly ask for it. His mouth hovered so close she wanted to dart out her tongue and lick him. Draw him to her. His forehead brushed hers, and her breath fluttered.

  Somehow, she managed a please.

  “Please kiss you?” he asked. “Is that what you want me to do?”

  She nodded, too turned on to form another word, even a yes.

  “That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about all day,” he whispered.

  Then he kissed her, and he wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t sweet. He was rough as he claimed her mouth, kissing hard. She moaned as he drew her bottom lip between his teeth then fused his mouth to hers.

  His stubble rubbed against her chin. She’d have whisker burn later. She longed for the redness, the proof, the evidence of a bruising kiss.

  The kiss lit her up. She felt it everywhere—in her toes, in her hair, in her belly.

  And, deliciously, between her legs.

  She ached for him there. She angled her hips closer as they kissed, desperately seeking contact from him. God, how she wanted him. And she didn’t even know his name.

  But he knew her body.

  He knew her desires.

  He held her hands so tightly they might as well be cuffed. In a flash, he changed his grip, wrapping both her wrists in one hand, keeping them pinned behind her back. He moved his free hand to the front of her dress and found his way up her skirt. He broke the kiss as his fingertips brushed above her knee, touching her stockings and her garter. “Are you wet for me, Sophie?�
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  “Yes,” she said on a pant.

  “Are you hot for me?” he asked, racing closer to her heat.

  “God, yes.”

  “Was I wrong about anything I told you?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Do you still want to ask me if I’m a good lover?” He flicked his finger against her clit. Ripples of pleasure spread through her body. She inhaled sharply and bit her lip so she wouldn’t cry out loud.

  “No. I don’t need to ask you,” she said as he stroked her through her black lace panties.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure,” she whispered as sparks shot through her bloodstream.

  “Why not?” he asked, as if he were truly so damn curious.

  “Because you’re showing me.”

  His fingers glided across the wet panel of her panties, stroking faster as she rocked into him. He kept a firm grip on her wrists as she greedily sought his friction. “That’s right,” he said roughly. “I’m showing you, Sophie. I’m showing you exactly what I can do to you.”

  He stopped momentarily. Her eyes widened. A trace of fear zipped through her. Fear that he might not let her come. “Did you want to question me again?” he asked, taunting her. “I can stop if you have questions.”

  “No,” she said, her breath staccato.

  “Good. But I want to question you.”

  “Anything,” she panted. “Ask me anything.”

  He fixed her with a serious stare. “Are you sure you want to go out on stage having just come all over my hand?”

  “Yes,” she said, begging.

  He leaned in closer to her ear. “I can’t hear you. Say it again.”

  “Yes, God yes.”

  He ran his fingers across the wet lace. He narrowed in on her where she wanted him. She was so close to the edge, and she needed him to keep touching her. She needed his fingers flying across her clit. Touching her until she fell apart.

  “Beg for it,” he commanded.

  “Please,” she whispered in his ear, her knees shaking, so desperate was she for release. “Please make me come.”