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“Cade?”
He heard movement, the soft sound of her footsteps on carpet. He stretched out on his back, the soft comforter beneath him and his arms overhead, and smiled at her. “Time for your next fantasy. Tie me up, gorgeous. The night isn’t over, and I’ll be damned if I let the sun rise without crossing off every item on your Post-it.”
Her fingers toyed with the belt from his discarded robe. “I don’t need pity sex, or pity fantasies.”
“Lucia, look at me.”
Her hesitant gaze zeroed in on his face, and her hands stilled. “Okay,” she said.
“I hate what happened to you. But I’m not lying here with my cock hard at the thought of you tying me up and riding me until you forget your own name out of pity.”
She blinked, and he watched her focus shift lower, until she saw the proof of his desire.
“I’ve broken a lot of my own rules tonight,” he said. “Not because I feel sorry for you. I want you. From the moment I first saw you staring at the painting, I wanted you. Come to bed, gorgeous, and claim your fantasy.”
Chapter Seven
Lucia had witnessed countless people—family, doctors, strangers, the list went on—offer her the all too familiar words: “I’m so sorry.” She knew pity inside and out. And Cade was right. Pity didn’t look like this—a Navy SEAL with the muscles of a superhero, naked on her bed.
Her gaze drifted over the hard lines of his body. This man’s body was a work of art, surpassing even her wildest fantasies. And he was still here. For her.
“Tell me what you’re thinking, gorgeous. Did you have something different in mind for number four?” His arms moved to his sides, elbows pressing into the bed. And his upper body curled off the bed as he looked at her. “I can improvise.”
“When I wrote that list…” Her gaze drifted over his sculpted abs, moving lower and lower. She’d licked every inch of his long, thick cock, reveling in the way he filled her mouth. When he’d climaxed, his hips pumping into her, demanding more, she’d lost herself in the heady rush of power.
And then she’d lost her mask.
At home in Tennessee, she’d allowed her imagination to run wild. She’d sat in her sunlit studio writing lists without thinking through the consequences.
“I’m listening,” he said. “Tell me what you wanted when you wrote your list.”
To run away from my past and straight into the arms of a fantasy.
Everything about this man was bigger than her dreams. “The thought of tying someone to the bed—”
“Not someone¸” his deep voice cut in. “Me.”
Her gaze met his. “Claiming control sounded exciting. But now, with you…”
Her feet refused to carry her one step closer to the bed. Hidden behind the mask, she could allow desire and wanting to sweep her off her feet. But without it?
“The red dress,” she continued. “That’s not me. Not really. And I don’t—”
Ride men like you until I come screaming your name.
She’d planned to keep her insecurities bottled away for the night. The simple act of spelling out her fantasies on paper had granted her confidence. She could do all of the things she dreamed about when she closed her eyes and pretended she was the beautiful, sexy woman who’d walked into Glitterati tonight.
But to do this now? They’d just dipped into reality, and he was inviting her back into a fantasy. It blurred the lines in a way she hadn’t expected.
“Lucia.”
She glanced up at his face, expecting frustration. He’d offered her exactly what she’d claimed to want, but instead of joining him on the bed, she’d decided to explain all of the reasons she might die from embarrassment if she actually tied up a Navy SEAL. And if she climbed on top of him, he would notice every extra pound and—
“Watch my hand.” His voice drew her mental downward spiral to a halt as he reached for his cock.
He ran his hand up his thick length then paused at the top. His fingers swirled through the liquid beading at the tip and drew it down. He lifted his hips off the bed and groaned as he thrust his thick cock against his palm. But he kept his eyes fixed on her.
Oh, he was good. He’d seen how watching him touch himself excited her. Now she ached to replace his hand with her own. To abandon her robe and climb on top of him—before he changed his mind about the woman who’d invited him into her hotel room and then left him to take care of his own needs.
