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Images flashed through her mind, images of him over her, back in her flat in Kensington. They rarely ever slept, even when they spent a whole night together. “Arrogant bastard.”
“Maybe, but I’d like to point out I’ve thought about this a whole lot, and not just with my cock.” His eyebrows lifted and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hips rolling. The belt hung from his hand, a constant reminder of his power over her. “Although I have to admit, it likes thinking about you too . . . every day, and every night, when I was alone in my bed.”
The very thought of him masturbating made her damp. Had he really thought about her? Had he stroked his cock while he was thinking about her, the way she had sometimes coaxed herself to guilty orgasm with his image in her mind?
His jeans were now hanging low on his hips. She could see the waistband of his jockeys and the growing bulge inside them. Her hands ached to hold him, to run her fingers around the edge of his waistband, to feel his warm skin and hard abs against the back of her knuckles as she slid her hands inside to reach for him. Blinking, she rocked on her heels.
“Which is your room? I want to be on your bed while I make love to you.” He ran his nose against her hair. “I want to smell your pillow. I’ve missed your scent. Missed it. Badly.”
She let out a long withheld breath, her will to resist him weakening by the moment. He was whispering against her skin, seducing her.
“We need to do this, Leonie, and you know it. If we don’t, we’ll only be putting it off until later.’’ He drew back and gave her a knowing smile. “Meanwhile, your friends here will have to deal with the tension between us.”
Her blood hit boiling point. She’d been about to give in and let him melt away every tension in her body, but the reference to the plantation owners slapped some sense into her. “Jesus, you’re saying we can’t behave professionally until we’ve had sex?”
He lifted one shoulder. “It was always like this between us. As far as I can see, nothing has changed.”
Her heart was pounding. But he was right, damn him. Even though she hadn’t touched him, their need for one another was in charge. It was a hurdle they never could get past until they’d given in to the overwhelming chemical reaction that was triggered whenever they were together. Why the hell not, her body screamed.
“Fuck me then,” she blurted, “if you think it’s the only way to get past it and act like civilized people.”
He didn’t even blink. “Lead the way.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Smug bastard.” She turned on her heels and strode to the end of the corridor, then turned right into her room. Her heart was beating so hard she could hear her blood rushing in her ears. With one hand, she steadied herself on the chest of drawers just inside the door and watched as he followed.
He shut the door behind him, and then nodded at her shirt. “Take it off.”
Apparently he didn’t plan to waste any time. I swore I wouldn’t do this.
But his control over her hadn’t diminished an iota. Her fingers were automatically on the buttons, doing as he c
ommanded. “I hate you for this.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t say no to you!”
“Just me?” One eyebrow lifted, he gave her a teasing glance.
“You are insufferable. Yes, just you. Bastard.” He’d wanted to know, though. Did he think there had been others? A legion of fit Aussie harvesters who kept her company in bed at night? Perhaps she should have let him believe that, but she never was very good at lying, hence the predicament she currently found herself in. The plan was to say no and pretend she meant it. What a ludicrous notion.
When she dropped the shirt to the floor, he nodded at her bra.
Reaching around, she undid the clasp, muttering curse words under her breath. Whether she was cursing him, or herself, she wasn’t quite sure any more.
When the bra joined the shirt on the floor, he smiled appreciatively. “I’ve missed your breasts.”
Her nipples were already peaked, and they quickly knotted under his gaze. He didn’t touch her, he just ate her up with his eyes, and that made her even more edgy. It was his way – making her desperate for him by doing next to nothing and yet controlling her so thoroughly with his words and actions. She inwardly cursed herself, but she wanted him, there was no denying it.
“And the rest.” The belt snaked in his grasp.
Her core clenched. Kicking off her shoes, she undid the button and zipper on her shorts, dropping them to the floor and stepping out of them. She paused. He didn’t even have to say the words. She felt the weight of his command, and rolled her panties down her thighs, abandoning them too.
Stepping closer, he lifted her wrists into one strong hand and bound them together with his belt, securing them by buckling the belt into the extra hole he’d cut for this very task, so that the loop fitted her bound wrists perfectly.
