“You should be shirtless more often. As in, as often as possible.” I shake away my awe. Before tonight, I had only a vague idea of what might be under his clothes. Now that I’m up close and personal with his hard body . . . I want more.

I reach for the button on his pants, and he stops me.

“Not yet,” he says. Then with a single sweep of his hand down my back, he’s unzipped my dress and it’s falling to the floor, pooling around my feet. My breasts are swollen, their peaks tight with need under the dark lace of my bra. “Jesus, Liz. You take my breath. You always have.”

That makes something flutter in my belly. Something stronger than lust and more dangerous. Something that pushes me closer to this edge I’m clinging to so precariously. I can’t fall. Not for Sam.

I reach back to release my bra, and he grabs my hands and stops me. His eyes flash to mine. “I want to do it. Don’t get used to your hands being free. They won’t be for long.”

As he steps forward, my hands instinctively go to his chest, desperate to feel him while I can. He releases the clasp then slides his hands under the straps and over each shoulder, letting it fall to the floor. Then he shifts his hands so they’re cupping my ass. He bows his head, his lips hovering just above mine. “How do you want it? Soft? Hard? Slow or fast?”

“Yes,” I whisper. “All of it.”

I feel like a starved woman being served for the first time in months, like I need all I can get from Sam. I’m not inexperienced, but the men I’ve given myself to didn’t make me feel the way he does—the way he’s made me feel since I was a young, awkward teenager trying to impress my friend’s older brother. My fantasies of Sam set the standard, and no man has ever measured up.

Until now.

One of the hands cupping me finds the seam of my ass, following the path down over my most sensitive, private parts until he reaches the wet, hot, aching center of me. I arch my back, urging his circling fingers inside.

“I want to taste you here.”

“Just fuck me,” I beg. “I want you.”

He groans. “Not yet. First, I want you bound and writhing while I fuck you with my fingers and tongue.”

I drop my hand between our bodies and push his pants and briefs from his hips in one desperate movement. I wrap my fingers around his cock and stroke him. He’s long and hard, thick in a way that might scare me if I weren’t desperate to take everything he has to offer.

I moan, willing him to make good on his promise, willing him to slide his fingers into me. I’ve never felt so empty. So needing to be filled.

But before I get what I’m looking for, he steps away. “Not so fast, Rowdy.” He grasps my hands at the wrists and wraps them with his tie, binding them securely with expert efficiency. My lips part in surprise and he ducks his head, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Remember the rules. You tell me if it’s too much.”

“I trust you.” But I can’t speak the lie without squeezing my eyes shut. I trust him with my body, but I’m scared for my heart.

Slowly, he turns me toward the mirror and stands behind me, his front to my back. He kisses the side of my neck. Sucks. Works his way down with the same delicious torture that fills my body with heat and need and a want so intense it’s an ache. “Open your eyes, beautiful. I’m going to touch every inch of you, and then I’m going to taste you.” His big hand presses between my shoulder blades, and I follow the unspoken command and lean over from my hips, arching my back. It would be so easy for him to slide into me right now. His cock is practically nestled between my legs. One shift of his hips, and he’ll be where I want him.

I watch our reflection fog up in the mirror as he runs his fingers down my spine.

“Would you watch?” he asks. “If I fucked you here, in front of the mirror? Would you watch me take you?”

Balancing myself with my bound wrists against the vanity, I arch my back harder and grind into him. “Yes.”

He leans forward and presses an open mouth to the small of my back then sucks hard enough to draw the skin between his teeth. “Soon.”

Chapter Six

Sam

“You look so fucking sexy right now.”

“How so?” Liz is breathless, bent at the waist, ass against my dick¸ wriggling in a way that’s more instinctive than calculated, but still likely to make me lose my mind.

“I can’t decide what would be sexier—you like this or on your knees with my dick in your mouth. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve imagined you with your hands bound?”

Slowly, I run my hands over her skin, down her back, over her hips, over her stomach, and up to her breasts. She understands my unspoken command and stays still as I touch her. Leaning forward, I mold my body against hers and trail kisses across her shoulders as I cup her breasts.

I want to watch her eyes grow hot in the mirror, but the shower has gone hot and the room is filling with steam. I draw her up and press my mouth to hers. She loops her bound hands over my head and presses her body closer to mine, and I need to take a minute and register that this isn’t just a fantasy.

Liz is real. So real. And tonight she’s mine.

I lead her into the shower and take a minute to watch the hot water wash over her skin. Unable to resist, I duck out from under her arms and catch a rivulet with my mouth as it rolls off the tight bud of her nipple. Her breasts are the perfect size. Not very large, but enough to fill my mouth and hands. I draw her nipple between my teeth, and she gasps.