Excerpt of Deacon's Touch by Callie Croix

"But what?" He could barely get the words out.

Her eyes searched his. "You wouldn't...hurt me."

He imagined the thoughts running through that pretty head. No doubt she wondered whether he got off on tying his partners up and whipping them raw. He swallowed a laugh. "No. But I'll push your boundaries." It was how he was wired.

Her sigh of relief tightened something inside him. The interest and growing need in her eyes sparked something far more primal and possessive.

Without warning, the dark hunger he'd held at bay swept over him in a powerful wave, making him light-headed with the need to take her. Testing her resolve, he closed his hands around her slender wrists and held them to the bar top as he bent to taste the skin beneath her right ear. Her swift intake of breath made his cock surge.

He kissed the fragile pulse point, savoring the frantic beat of her blood beneath his lips for a moment before nipping gently. She jerked in his hold and made a little sound of arousal when he soothed the tiny sting away with his tongue. A tremor rolled through her body, goose bumps breaking out across her smooth skin. Then slowly she let her head tip back a few inches, offering her throat.

The subconscious surrender in the movement made his heart pound. He hoped the hell she understood what she was signing up for, because he was more than ready to deliver.

He could feel the tension gripping her body as he held her there, trailing feather-light kisses across her jaw to the corner of his mouth. Keeping her hands in place to introduce her to the sensation of being restrained, he hovered a breath away from her tempting lips. And waited.

A moment later, she closed her eyes and turned her head to kiss him. A slow mingling of lips and tongue, as addictive as a drug. She softened, yielded. Her timid, yet sensual response went to his head like a fifth of whiskey. Before he could take things further, he pulled back. When she opened her eyes and gazed up at him in silent question, he released her wrists and stepped away. "Let's go," he said in a rough voice.

She straightened slowly, watching him with equal parts arousal and indecision. Deke held out his hand and waited. Her gaze slid down to his palm, and he could feel her struggling with herself. She studied his hand, and he knew she was taking in its size, how much stronger it was than hers. What his control over her would mean during sex. If she put her hand in his, she was his for the night.

Meeting his eyes, she finally lifted her hand and settled it on his palm. Her skin was cool and soft, delicate compared to his. Something to be treasured. He closed his fingers around hers and squeezed, her need and unspoken trust in him easing something in his chest.

Oh, sugar. You're mine.

Without a word, he turned and guided her out of the bar.