Blackmailed Into His Arms. Margaret Mayo

she’d known he was going to have this effect on her, she probably wouldn’t have come. He was too handsome, too charming and obviously had too much power over her. The power to make her weak in the knees and cloud her senses. The power to make her not only willing to sleep with a man she barely knew, but be on the verge of begging for his touch.

      He had to know she was putty in his hands, had to know she was his for the taking. And yet he’d asked permission to make love to her, and was still waiting for her answer.

      As much as she’d agonized over her decision to come here with him, the decision to go through with sharing his bed was easy. She wanted him, and regardless of his reasons for wanting her, there was only one response she could give.

      Her lashes fluttered, and she opened her eyes to see him watching her closely, his expression intense and strained.

      “Yes,” she said finally.

      She felt the tension seep from his body, saw the lines in his face vanish. Then, before she could form another thought, he scooped her into his arms, his long strides eating up the distance to the bedroom.

      Once inside, he laid her gently on the made bed, then stepped back to divest himself of clothing. Raising up on her elbows, she watched him kick off his shoes, undo his cuff links, shed his jacket, tie, shirt and slacks. He came back to her in all his naked glory, so magnificent he made her mouth go dry.

      Sitting on the edge of the bed, he opened a drawer in the nightstand and removed a box of condoms, setting them on one of the pillows in easy reach. And then he turned his attention back to her, undivided, focused. The need swirling in her belly began to build and spread outward.

      He traced the line of pale flesh above the scalloped cup of her black bra, never taking his eyes from hers. Leaning in, he used his teeth to nibble and bite at her bottom lip. She opened to him, wanting more, wanting everything. And he gave it to her, covering her mouth, molding their bodies together, kissing her until she was limp and gasping for air.

      When they parted, Chase grabbed her by the waist and dragged her more to the center of the bed. Then he sat back and lifted her leg until the sole of her satin pump rested flat against his bare chest.

      He reached past her bent knee, letting his callused palms run up and down her thigh. His fingers caught one of the garter fasteners and deftly released it. The strap, once pulled taut, snapped back, stinging the delicate flesh of her abdomen. She gave a gasp of surprise and Chase chuckled, covering the spot with his thumb and rubbing gently.

      “Sorry. I’m not used to garter belts. I’ll be more careful next time.”

      Proving he was as good as his word, he reached around to the second clip and carefully unhooked it from the stocking.

      When he began to roll the silky material down, Elena almost wished he’d snapped her again. The tiny, biting pain had to be better than the slow agony he was creating now, the heaving, writhing lust monster coming to life in her belly and between her legs. It had fangs and claws and was tearing at her insides, making her shiver and moan.

      And she could tell by the simmering, possessive look in his eyes that he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

      “Patience,” he murmured, slipping off her shoe and the rumpled stocking, and pressing a kiss to the inside of her bare ankle.

      She made a sound deep in her throat, a cross between annoyance and a whimper. Which only seemed to amuse him all the more.

      He switched to her other leg, following the same process, causing perspiration to break out along her upper lip, inside her elbows, behind her knees. When he finished, he took hold of her panties and the garter belt in both fists and slid them over her hips, down the length of her legs, and off, tossing them to the floor. Next, he reached behind her and deftly undid her bra, pitching the strapless garment in the same direction as her other lingerie.

      “Now, that’s what I’m talking about,” Chase said, sitting back to admire his handiwork.

      She fought the urge to hide her nudity with her hands or reach for a corner of the bedspread, reminding herself that she’d chosen this.

      And Chase Ramsey wasn’t exactly the first man to see her naked. He was merely the first in a while—as well as the most handsome and masterful.

      She couldn’t remember another man ever making her want him with just one look, ever making her mouth water or her body vibrate so strongly with unleashed desire.

      If he was doing this to get back at her for what she’d done to him in high school, then more power to him. She felt like throwing out her arms and screaming, “Take me. Use me. Make me pay.” His form of revenge was her idea of pure ecstasy.

      He moved to cover her body with his own, taking her mouth in a slow, bone-melting kiss. His broad chest, with its sprinkling of dark, springy hair, flattened her breasts and rubbed against her nipples. His erection, hard and hot, nudged her stomach.

      Digging her nails into his slick shoulders and back, she tipped her hips, trying to get closer, urging him to slip inside, where she needed him most.

      But his exercise in torture wasn’t over yet. He finished with her mouth, trailing his lips along her chin, down the column of her throat, across her collarbone and the swell of her right breast.

      His tongue swept across the beaded peak and she groaned, arching upward. He continued to lick, nip, suckle and drive all sensible thought from her head.

      She dug her fingers into his hair, trying to tug him away even as her back bowed into his magician’s touch. A whimper slipped past her lips, and she fully expected to expire on the spot. If she survived long enough to regain the use of her limbs and brain cells, she fully intended to exact a bit of her own sweet revenge.

      He lifted his head and a cocky, satisfied grin spread across his face. But the smoldering heat in his eyes belied the lighter lift of his lips.

      “I want to do more,” he said in a tight, gravelly voice, holding her gaze. “I want to kiss you from head to toe. Taste every inch of your skin, then come back for seconds.”

      He crawled up a few inches until their eyes and mouths and naughty parts aligned. Threading one hand through the hair at her temple, he reached past her and grabbed the box of condoms, struggling to open it one-handed.

      “I want to,” he repeated, “but I can’t. I don’t have that much self-control.”

      When he had a single square packet free, he tore the end off with his teeth and spat the plastic aside. It took him less than a second to sheath himself and settle more fully between her legs, which she had wrapped loosely around his hips.

      He took her mouth, speaking between wet, breath-stealing kisses. “Later, all right? I’ll lick you all over later. I promise.”

      With one smooth, powerful motion, he was inside her, stretching her, filling her, setting her nerve endings on fire. Air hissed through his clenched teeth as he held himself perfectly still above her, the muscles in his throat roped and taut.

      She knew he was waiting for her, giving her time to adjust to his invasion, the size and hardness of his impressive length.

      But she didn’t need time. She only needed him.

      From the moment he’d entered her, everything about this encounter had felt right. And now all she wanted was for him to move, to fill her even more fully and send her flying over the abyss that hovered just out of reach.

      Twining her arms around his neck to match the twist of her legs at his hips, she drew him closer. “Don’t stop now,” she whispered a split second before their mouths met.

      He groaned, the sound vibrating against her lips, through her torso and limbs and into her soul.

      His hands tightened on her waist, lifting her slightly as he pulled back. She started to whimper at the friction he created and the sudden loss of his heat, but before the noise could work its way up from her diaphragm, he thrust forward again.

      Slowly,