Detained by Ainslie Paton Read Free Book Online

her was the most erotic thing she could remember ever doing.
    “You like this?”
    He knew. There was nothing to tell him her body hadn’t.
    “Tell me.”
    She’d rather deny him. “No.”
    He stilled, took his hand away from her face. Denial was his weapon. Self-control his greatest asset.
    “Yes!” She almost shouted at him. “You bastard—you know it.”
    He must’ve thought she’d break away. He brought his free hand to her trapped arms and held her. Her shoulders were back and her breasts thrust out as she arched into his grip. He was nose to nose with her, only his unsteady breath giving his intentions away.
    Still no kiss.
    “Control freak,” she breathed.
    He let go immediately, and after straining against his hands, she fell forward on his chest. “Oh!”
    But this was better. She shrugged out of the jacket and let it fall to the floor. Now she could touch him. She fisted his shirt in one hand, a vague attempt to hold him, a determination to get close to him, and pushed the other through his thick wavy hair.
    He jerked back from her, hands pressing on her shoulders. “Tell me you liked being restrained.”
    “You know I did.”
    “Give me your hands.”
    She laughed, “No. I want your lips.”
    “Give me your hands and I’ll kiss you till you can’t breathe.”
    Darcy pressed her weight into his hands braced on her shoulders, till she could touch her lips to his. They were soft but unyielding. He wanted it his way. Suddenly so did she.
    She sat back and his hands skimmed off her shoulders and down her arms as she put them behind her back. She thought he’d restrain her but his hands kept moving, up her back, to her head. Then his lips were on hers, nothing slow, no softness, total possession.
    She grabbed for him but he pulled away. “No hands.”
    She put her hands behind her back again. “You only get off if you’re the boss?”
    He shook his head, his expression hard to read in the dim light, but his voice was steady. “This isn’t for me.”
    Now he lied.
    She laughed. Now, after all the secret truths he spoke and the dare he took. He’d shown her he was a man used to being in control, used to being obeyed. He was delusional if he thought she’d fall for this being for her. She was delusional to let this happen, but he was sucking on her top lip, his tongue flicking at the corners of her mouth. His hands were massaging her breasts, thumbs rolling over her nipples. This was such a fine, fine delusion, any analysis she might have done was pinched off by the thrust of his tongue against the roof of her mouth, by the hand now under her t-shirt.
    “I want you naked, woman, but it’s too damn cold.”
    Firm, knowing fingers at her back, he opened her bra so her breasts, heavy with want, were pooled in his hot palms. She gasped and rocked forward, her head dropping back so she looked towards the darkened ceiling, opening her throat to him. He licked a line of wet heat from her collarbone to the semicircle of her ear, then sucked the groan of pleasure out of her mouth.
    His hands went inside her sleeves, dragging the bra straps down her arms. Freed of it she felt naked, her sensitised nipples rasped against the cotton of her shirt. It might have been made of sandpaper. She’d have hauled it off but there was no way she was going to break the contact of his mouth, sucking her nipple through the shirt.
    Her hands came up to his hair to hold him there.
    He stopped, shook free of her and sat back. Cold air swirled around her body where moments ago his heat had swelled. In the shadows his eyes were like two big shiny sewn on buttons. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths, but he was otherwise still, where she was squirming with desire, impatient for his touch, for the rising thrill he stirred in her.
    It was his rules or nothing. It was maddening. She should get off his lap, walk away, leave the room. No man got to control how she felt. This man meant to and he fought dirty. He branded her