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“I know,” he mumbled.
She chuckled, low and wicked.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Hearing the bathroom doorknob squeak, Quinley warned, “I’m not quite done yet.” Give a girl a second, would you?
But the door swung open anyway, and then Isaiah stood right there—his feet planted, his face cold, his eyes hot.
She stilled, feeling a little like a deer caught in the headlights at the sheer sexual intent in his expression. Her pulse jerkily jumped, and her skin prickled as teensy little bumps rose.
His gaze dropped to her red-velvet bra, tracing over the white-fur trim and honing right in on the little bell that dangled from a bow between her breasts. His attention dipped lower, taking in the matching, diamante-buckled mini skirt—it was so short it left her ass pretty much bare and just about covered her clit. And then his eyes coasted further down, lapping up the sheer red stockings that featured tiny red bows on the lacy tops.
She hadn’t yet pulled on the skimpy red thong that came with the outfit. The impatient bastard hadn’t given her enough time, despite that she’d told him she’d return to the bedroom once ready.
His eyes skated back up to pin her with an unblinking stare, his focus absolute and unwavering. Her cat froze. The look in his eyes wasn’t human. It was too feral. Too hungry. Too predatory. And positively indecent with how much carnality it transmitted.
Droplets of excitement rained down on Quinley. She was gonna get royally fucked and she knew it. Welcomed it.
A muggy tension simmered in the air, turning it thick and static. He didn’t move. Just stared, his inborn air of dominance sharper and more intense than usual. Almost electric. Her cat reveled in it.
Quinley realized he had something balled up in his fist. Something white. But she couldn’t make out what it was.
And then she didn’t care, because he was coming toward her, a sense of purpose in every step.
Her heart lost all sense of rhythm. Anticipation sizzled across her nerve-endings. Her fingers flexed with a delicious nervousness.
He halted in front of her, lightly brushing his nose over hers, nuzzling her face. His attention zipped to something over her shoulder, and she knew he’d be checking the rear of her outfit through her reflection in the mirror there.
He let his stubbled cheek rasp against hers and kneaded one globe of her ass. “Utter perfection,” he said, a gritty rumble to his voice.
She swallowed hard, lifting her hands to touch him.
Isaiah gave a shake of his head and stepped back. He then lifted his balled-up fist and loosened it, allowing what he held to uncurl and dangle in front of her.
The silk tie from her robe.
Her pulse skittered.
“Hold out your wrists together in front of you.” The dominance embedded in his tone settled on her bones, seized her compliance, and steadied her mind even as it sent her hormones into meltdown.
She allowed everything else to fall away as she centered her world on him, them, this moment. As she followed his instruction, she saw a sheen of pride in his eyes.
“You can’t know how much it pleases me that you let go this way.” He knotted the tie around her wrists, securely binding them together but not so tight it hurt. “If that starts to get uncomfortable, I want to hear about it.”
She gave a firm nod.
His tongue eased out and licked along her bottom lip. “Good girl.”
He swooped down and took her mouth. The kiss was fevered in its intensity and laced with pure entitlement; a kiss so heady she didn’t notice he was herding her backwards until her skin met the cool tiled wall.
Isaiah freed her mouth, grabbed her joined hands, lifted them up, and attached them to the hook high above her head using the silk tie.
Well, now.
Satisfaction rippled across his face. “All mine to do with what I wish.”
She gave a light, testing tug on the knot. No give. It sent her excitement soaring and stirred her cat up in the best way.
