“What?” He watched her eyes as he feathered his thumb against one nipple, saw the black pupils all but swallow the blue irises, heard the catch of her breath.
“Do you like that? Tell me. Tell me what you like.”
He bent to her, licked her nipple. She moaned and he bent to her again, blew lightly against the pearled flesh, then sucked it into his mouth.
It was like touching a lighted match to dry kindling.
She arched toward him and a sob burst from her throat, the sound high and wild and filled with something he couldn’t quite define.
Could it be wonder?
He wanted it to be, he thought fiercely. Wanted to be the first man who’d wrung that sound from this woman who had lain in God only knew how many other men’s arms.
She was breathing raggedly, moaning softly, writhing against his hand as he caressed her. Stroked her nipples. Kissed her warm flesh. She said something he couldn’t hear, whispered it as he touched her.
“Tell me,” he said, his voice urgent with need. “Tell me what I make you feel.”
Cam slipped his hand between their bodies. Slid it up her leg. Felt the heat of her skin. His nostrils flared at the sudden, unmistakable scent of her desire.
“God,” she whispered, “God…”
She raised her head from the pillows. Sighed and offered him her mouth.
With a fierce growl, he took the kiss she’d offered. Sank into it. Felt the first, tentative touch of her tongue against his, heard her sigh and knew he was taking her with him into a dark velvet whirlpool of desire where nothing and no one mattered except this.
He felt her starting to tremble against him.
Stop, a voice deep within him whispered. This is a mistake. For God’s sake, man, stop!
But it was too late. He was aching, as much for her final surrender as for his own release.
She moved against him, a little roll of her hips that made him groan. This—making love to her, feeling her swift response and knowing that the restraints still tied around her wrists and ankles left her exquisitely open and completely vulnerable to him—was incredibly exciting.
But he wanted more.
He wanted her arms around his neck, her legs around his hips as he poured himself into her.
Cam ran his hand higher, heard her swift intake of breath when he reached her thigh. Her skin was hot. Burning, as he was burning. He kissed her throat, heard her make that little sound women make when they stand balanced on the brink of forever in a man’s embrace.
“Tell me now,” he said. “What you like. What you want. I’ll make it happen, I promise.”
“Untie me,” she whispered, “and I’ll show you.”
He hesitated, but just for a heartbeat. Then he undid the rope around her wrists, shuddered when she ran her hands down his arms to his chest. He kissed her and she nipped lightly at his lip.
“Please,” she said, her breath mingling with his.
His hesitation lasted a little longer this time. But the beautiful witch in his arms moved against him with the delicacy of a cat and he stopped thinking, leaned back and quickly freed the restraints from her ankles. Then he came down to her again, kissed her again, slowly, slowly, using his tongue as he would use his erection inside her in another minute because he couldn’t wait much longer.
He’d take her once, hard and quick, then slowly, so that it lasted a long, long time.
She shifted her weight again, the faintest easing of her hips. He looked down into her face. Her eyes glittered.
“You said you’d show me what you want,” he whispered.
“Yes,” she said, “I will.”
Later, thinking back, he knew he’d heard something in those simple words that should have given it all away but right then—hell, right then, he was a man only capable of following the aroused compass of his own flesh.