It was dark. He was groggy. His body was heavy and
exhausted. Something sweet, like the scent of lavender and
pumpkin pie, wafted to Ryker's nose. He couldn't help but
inhale deeply, taking in more of the arousing aroma. It
almost soothed the throbbing in his head. He tried to lift
his hand to massage the pulsating ache, but a strong bond
stopped his wrists. He tried to open his weighty lids. The
light stung his eyes. It took a few minutes for his eyes to
adjust. Finally he saw her, a woman dressed as if she were
going to a masquerade ball. The little black feathers
didn't hide the bright green eyes peering back at him
through the mask. Her hair was dark with auburn highlights.
It was unruly, long, and tousled, but in a most alluring
way. He scanned her tall, slender body that was covered
only by a thin, black, silky dress. It was like a lingerie
teaser on the cover of Playboy, something to lure you to
buy the magazine so you could see the nude centerfolds.
Hmm. Green eyes and dark hair? Well, this certainly is not
little Miss Mindy, he thought, imagining that the sexy
little blue–eyed blonde was probably sitting at the
bar still waiting for him, thinking she'd been stood up.
He tried to sit up, but all of his extremities were
pinned down. When he realized he couldn't move, he looked
to his feet, then quickly to his hands. They were bound by
leather straps, and a sheet was draped over the lower half
of his body. He wiggled, and damn it, his bare ass slid
against the mattress. What the hell was happening? He was
tied to a bed, naked, and he had no idea how he got there.
The last thing he remembered was going back to his hotel
room for a shower. He was jetlagged from the plane trip and
exhausted from the fight. He remembered sitting down on the
chair just for a second to take a rest and... Wait! Had she
drugged him? Is that where his headache was coming from?
The fogginess? The water bottle. Ryker recalled only one in
the fridge, so that he'd had to take that one. It must
have
been meant for him. Son of a fucking bitch!
"Don't be
afraid." The woman's voice was low and provocative, but
reassuring.
Ryker scowled at her accusation. "Afraid?
I'm
not afraid," he snapped. Pissed, he thought, but not
afraid.
"It's a natural reaction," she pointedly
stated. "You're vulnerable right now, and vulnerability
comes from being unable to protect yourself." She took a
few steps toward him. "But do you know what you're trying
to protect yourself from?" She stopped beside the bed and
tapped her finger against the leather restraint on his
wrist. "You're afraid because you fear what we all
fear...
pain. But I'm not going to hurt you."
Ryker
suspiciously
examined her, trying to figure out who the hell she was. He
chuckled. "You've got me confused with the general
population. It takes a lot more than some chick tying me up
to scare me, and as for pain..."Ryker sneered at her,
wishing he had some idea who his captor was. "Pain is
nothing more than a challenge. I find it easy to defeat."
"Hmm." She thoughtfully studied him. "After seeing
you
fight, I'm almost inclined to believe you."
"You were
at
the fight?" He asked the question nonchalantly, not
wanting
to give away his confusion. He tried to recall if he'd
seen
her there, but he decided that she wasn't exactly the
forgettable type. She was definitely not a woman he'd pass
by without a second glance, especially since he was a
sucker for long legs and auburn hair. The cat–green
eyes were enticing too.
"Yes. That's why I tied you up.
You're very strong."
"Listen, sweetheart—"
She
raised a finger as if to hush him, and
Ryker—strangely enough—found himself hushed,
wanting to hear what she had to say. "I want to touch
you,"
she said.
His cock disobediently thumped.
She dropped
her finger and crossed her arms over her breasts. "With
your permission, of course. I have no intentions of raping
you, and—"
Really? Did she just say that? Ryker
snorted at the thought. "Raping me? You fucking drugged me
and tied me up!" He shook his wrists. "Doll, if you're
worried about violating my body without my damn permission,
I think you're already guilty." He was no longer enticed
by
the idea of her touching him. His libido was silenced by
the extreme anger coursing through his body.
"Yes. As I
said you are very strong."
"Look, pumpkin..."
Pumpkin?
Did I really just call her that? Fuck! It was all he could
smell. Ryker lifted his chest from the bed, getting as
close to her as his restraints would possibly allow. "If
you wanted to get laid, all you needed to do was ask," he
seethed, speaking for his cock, for at that moment, anger
was filling the head connected to his neck. And he wasn't
a
fan of being shackled to a hotel bed, no matter how hot she
was. She didn't even flinch or back away from his
aggression, and oddly enough, both of his heads were
pleased about that. Ryker preferred a woman with a little
gumption, and this one clearly had more than her fair
share.
"I'm not entirely sure I want to have sex with
you, and as I was trying to explain to you, that is why I
needed to tie you up."
When the little feline admitted
so
matter–of–factly that she wasn't sure she
wanted to get laid, both of his heads agreed that it came
as a bit of a disappointment. Ryker settled back on the
bed, his body still fatigued from the fight and whatever
drug she'd spiked his water with. He inspected her. Was
she
trying to tell him she tied him up for her own safety? He
was sure that she didn't really know him, because if she
did, she would have known that there was no need for that,
his discipline was indestructible. He had needs and urges
just like everybody else, but even he'd never take a woman
without her consent—not to say that once consent was
established, the woman wouldn't find herself in a bad way,
crying and writhing beneath his relentless body. "If you
don't want to fuck, then what the hell do you want?
"
She
sighed. "As I said, I want to touch you."
Ryker was
leery, not sure how to respond. What man wouldn't want
this
chick to touch him? Already, his rod bellowed to let her do
it, but his loss of power was berating him, demanding that
he regain control over the situation. He wasn't at all
comfortable in the submissive position, something he'd
never experienced before nor wanted to, and lying there
like a shark without its teeth, he knew why. He needed to
regain control while maintaining his strict discipline.
That was what he prided himself on. After all, he had to.
His blood was contaminated.
"Tell you what..." he
said,
nodding toward her dress. Cuffed or not, it was time for
Ryker to grab a hold of the reigns. "Why don't you take
that dress off, and we'll see how my body reacts to you,"
he said, drawing his gaze back up to her jade eyes, "and
then I'll let you know if you may touch me."
She
tilted
her head considerately and turned to the door, perhaps
thinking of running. Ryker hoped she wouldn't, because he
didn't need to be left in that awkwardly helpless
position,
still tied to the hotel room bed. Her head slowly twisted
back. She moved her hands to the bottom of the thin
material and lifted.
Ryker held his breath. Beneath that
teasing little dress, she wore a black lace push–up
bra. A sneak peek of the start of her blushing nipples
filled his eyes, but they were quickly drawn down to her
flat stomach, where there was a small tattoo with some type
of Chinese symbol arced above her belly button. He averted
to her panties, which were also skimpy and black. Thump,
thump. His cock responded fiercely beneath the sheet,
demanding that Ryker allow her to touch him.
He
glimpsed down at the lift in the sheet between his legs,
and she followed his eyes. She lifted her chin, and a
noticeable sly smile turned up her sweet, plump lips. "It
appears your body is reacting appropriately."
Ryker
groaned. There's nothing appropriate about getting turned
on by a bitch who drugged me and kidnapped me.