Bound and Determined (3 page)

He blinked, feeling suddenly too tired to solve the riddle.
Too little sleep and too little coffee were not a good recipe for a late night with a beautiful woman.

“Nope,” he answered. “No one to check in with. My mother died years ago and my friends don’t bother me when I work.”

“Great news—about the friends.” She smiled, showing a sweet pair of dimples. “I’m sorry to hear about your mother.”

Whoever sent Kerry his way must have read his fantasies. He was a sucker for blondes with dimples . . . Would she surrender herself completely? The question rolled around his mind the way candy rolls on the tongue. He’d give his right arm to be inside her in the next five minutes, but the reticence she was trying to hide made that doubtful, no matter her occupation. Instead, he sipped the last of his cocktail and fished around for another tactic.

His sluggish brain took a while to cooperate. “So Kerry, what’s a nice girl like you doing in a skirt like that?”

He tossed the question at her playfully. Her defensive stare took him aback.

“What do you mean?”

Rafe sighed. “You seem awfully nervous. I won’t bite . . . unless you want me to.”

She sent a stilted, dimpled smile his way but said nothing.

Damn it, his head was beginning to hurt. A nap before dinner would probably be a good idea.

“You don’t . . . entertain men regularly, do you?”

Those green eyes widened to big-screen proportions. “I—I . . .”

“First day on the job?” he guessed.

“Exactly.” She nodded vigorously, emerging curls bobbing.

Oddly, her answer pleased him. So she wasn’t a hooker and she
was
having second thoughts. Which was good. He didn’t like the idea of another man pawing her in the back of this limousine. For some reason, the image pissed him off.

Lord, he must be tired to be caught up in a woman he’d met all of fifteen minutes ago. What was wrong with him?

Still, his thoughts continued to spin in his oddly lethargic brain. Why had she felt compelled to take a job she obviously did not want? Was she in some sort of trouble?

“This job is more difficult than I thought. I—I’m sorry if
you were expecting someone sexier.” Her apology broke into his contemplation, startling him.

Forcing himself to focus, he peered across the inches separating them. Kerry had bowed her head and apparently taken up hand-wringing as a new hobby.

Something—compassion, empathy?—stirred to life within him. He placed a gentle hand beneath her chin and lifted her gaze to his. Tears shimmered in her eyes, disturbing him.

“If you were any sexier, I couldn’t restrain myself. You already blow my mind.”

Kerry’s jaw dropped. She blinked once, twice. “Me?”

Rafe nodded—and noticed a lock of stray golden hair curling about her moist bottom lip. Slowly, he lifted his hand to brush the hair away. Kerry didn’t flinch, didn’t tense.

Was her silent acquiescence a green light to touch her more?

Fighting off a wave of exhaustion, he smiled and dragged his thumb along the edge of her full, red-painted lips. Damn, how would she taste? He was dying to know.

“Yes, you. Very sexy. If you don’t hear that often, the men in your life are stupid and should be beaten.”

That sweet pink flush crept into her cheeks again. She tried to reproach him with her stare, but that low-lashed gaze caressed more than punished him. A hint of a sexy smile played at her pretty mouth.

She was an amazing combination of angel and temptress. And he wanted her under him, legs splayed wide, in the worst way. But jet lag and an oddly fuzzy brain were beginning to spoil the moment. And damn, it was hot in here. Wincing, Rafe loosened his tie.

“I’m sure my brother has never considered whether or not I’m sexy.”

“Your boyfriend?” he prodded, stifling a yawn.

Why was he asking her this? The guy was likely a loser who simply couldn’t appreciate Kerry with a K the way he ought to. What kind of guy would let his woman “entertain” other men for a living?

Sleep. He needed sleep. That would restore his common sense.

“No boyfriend,” Kerry whispered.

Rafe grinned, despite his weariness. “That’s a shame.”

His teasing made her laugh, and her dimples came out to play once more. A bleary-eyed moment ruined it, and he knew he would need that nap before dinner whether he wanted it or not. He really should have eaten lunch during his layover in Baltimore . . .

Hell, why did he have to give out now?

No. He would not fold like a cheap tent—not without tasting her.

“Kiss me, Kerry,” he blurted, aghast to hear his words slurring.

She appeared not to notice. Instead, she sent him a shy nod. Rafe grasped both of her arms like a lifeline and pulled her close, dragging her firm, fine ass onto his lap. Kerry gasped. Refusing to acknowledge his utter exhaustion and his screwed-up speech, he pressed on. His raging erection demanded attention. He wanted Kerry to ache the way he did.

Odd that he should be tired and aroused at the same time . . . but who cared when he had a beautiful blonde on his lap?

Rafe settled one hand low on the curve of her hip. The other he thrust into the soft silk of her hair. He wanted to kiss her, touch her, until she was desperate to have his cock inside her. Hell, he wanted to inhale and savor her at once.

And he would make it happen now . . . if his growing headache weren’t slamming him between the eyes and the need for sleep weren’t shutting down his brain.

He felt freakin’ weird. What was happening to him?

Apparently, he was going to have to settle for inhaling Kerry—quickly.

Rafe covered her incredible lips with his mouth. She was soft, as he had suspected. But he needed more. Everything. He plunged his way inside. Her sweet taste, like summer-ripe cherries, exploded on his tongue as she opened for him. Kerry kissed shyly, but somewhere in his lust-fogged brain, he heard her moan. If a kiss could do that, he wondered what sort of amazing sounds she might give off when he laved her clit with his tongue.

He was dying to know. And if he didn’t get closer to her in the next few seconds, he was going to combust.

As he swept through her mouth for another searing kiss, Rafe lifted Kerry and shifted her to straddle him. Her inner
thighs hugged his middle. Her skirt inched up around her hips, revealing the fact she wore tiny, very sheer black panties. No question, she was a natural blonde.

“Wanna touch you, rip your panties off,” he breathed against her neck. “Then taste you.”

Kerry shivered in his arms.

A new wave of weariness followed. He ruthlessly squashed it.

Cupping her delectable ass in his hands, he urged her hips forward until he felt the damp heat of her pressed against his tented trousers. Unable to stop himself, he broke the kiss and threw his head back. She arched into him, too, a cry rising from her lips. Raw pleasure clawed up his spine, crashing between his legs. God, the woman was killing him.

Breath coming in harsh pants, Rafe looked back to her, the disheveled hair, the swollen mouth and flushed skin. Her green eyes looked darker, dilated. Hunger tore at his belly. She would be a goddess in bed.

“Want you,” he grunted. “Damn bad.”

Where the hell had his ability to speak gone? Was he getting sick? Or was the light-headed feeling the result of all his blood rushing below his navel?

Fighting suddenly heavy arms, Rafe found the little bows holding her halter together. The one between her shoulder blades wasn’t too difficult. One quick tug . . .
Ah, magic,
he thought, sliding one hand around to cup her breast, tease her distended nipple.

Kerry bit her lip at his touch, her lashes fluttering closed.

“So sexy,” he murmured, faltering about for the next tie. After a Herculean effort, he raised his free hand to her nape and found it. The tug required to set the top loose exhausted him. But once it fell free of her body, having her breasts bared at mouth level . . . worth the effort.

Determined to stay awake long enough to enjoy the sharpest arousal he could remember—and the woman who had caused it—he stroked both nipples with thumbs and forefingers. The sweet mewling sounds from the back of her throat encouraged him. He latched on to her with his mouth, sucking hard on her flushed, rosy nipple, nipping gently with his teeth. Her sigh became a groan.

“Skin so soft,” he muttered, taking the other nipple in his mouth.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered the fact Kerry had sunk her fingers into his hair and was holding him in place. That suited him. He laved her again, then looked down at her panties. They were damp.
Perfect.

But once focused down, his eyes refused to lift again. He gave up. Sight wasn’t as important as touch or taste right now.

“Here,” he rasped. “Now. Can’t wait to be inside you . . .”

“Yes,” she moaned in his ear.

Triumph spiked briefly as he reached for his belt buckle. He would have all her slick heat closing around his cock. For a while, the goddess would be exclusively his to take in every way he ached for. But consciousness became harder to grasp. What the hell was wrong with him? Heat poured over him in inferno-like waves. Sweat rolled down his temple. Rafe fumbled around to find the button that would roll down a window. No luck. Nausea hit him. Damn, he’d never been sick like this before. Never. Why now?

Kerry shimmied against him, those fabulous breasts swaying near his face. Determined to press on, Rafe slid a hand between them to tug down his zipper . . . then his world went black.

W
hen Jason stopped the car fifteen minutes later and opened the limo door, Kerry had composed herself . . . somewhat.

“We’re here,” he said unnecessarily, watching her.

Avoiding his searching gaze, Kerry stared past him, toward the cottage lounging in isolation on the serene shore of the Gulf of Mexico. Not a soul dotted the private, white sand beach. The small dwelling of pale peach stucco glimmered in twilight’s glow, mirrored by the turquoise sea. Any other time, Kerry would have been thrilled to stay for an undetermined number of glorious sun-filled days in a place of such charm and seclusion. But now . . .

The memory of Rafe Dawson’s hot mouth lingered on her swollen, tingling lips and tight nipples. Despite folding her
hands in her lap, they trembled with the sharp edge of arousal. Dwelling on the minuscule panties clinging wetly to the sensitive flesh between her legs only accelerated the speed of the memories assaulting her brain.

What on earth had she done with Rafe Dawson?

She’d said
yes
. To a virtual stranger. To a man she now had to spend her days—and nights—completely alone with. The man she had already annoyed, abducted, drugged . . . now had to be persuaded to help her free her brother.

Talk about impossible tasks. Screw positive energy. What she needed was a miracle. Kerry closed her eyes.

“You okay?” Jason said.

She answered with a jerky nod. “So this is infamous Uncle Dave’s Love Shack?”

“The one and only.”

Great. She looked forward to seeing all of Dominating Dave’s bondage equipment—about as much as she looked forward to dealing with her captive when he regained consciousness.

Why
had she said yes to Dawson? Instead of “No” or “Stop” or “Where in the hell do you think you’re putting that mouth?” She’d been seduced by the rush of sensations and bright emotions so new, so alluring, she’d wanted them to go on just a moment more.

“Kerry, are you okay? You look pale. He didn’t hurt you—”

“No,” she promised, avoiding his frown of concern as she stepped from the car.

“Or force you?”

Force? She’d all but volunteered to strip for the jerk with bad phone etiquette. “No, I’m all right.”

Rafe’s kisses, as addicting as her favorite Mexican food, coaxed, drawing her out with the hot demands of his mouth, the long-fingered genius of his hands . . . all while he’d been under the influence of an illegal drug. What if he’d been stone sober and actually trying?

Thirty minutes alone with the man had been overpowering. How would she survive an entire day? Or night? Without climbing on top of him and begging?

Jason’s blue eyes darkened with worry. “Then what, sweetheart? He unnerved you.”

Damn, she was too easy to read. She had to gather herself and stop focusing on the fact that one kiss from Rafael Dawson had overwhelmed her senses. She was a big girl now, and lack of sexual experience or not, she was going to have to make this plan work.

“Nothing I can’t handle. Really, don’t worry.”

Liar, liar, pants on fire
—
in more ways than one,
said a voice in the back of her head.

“I’m sorry.” He took her hand. “I should have interrupted or something. I didn’t think he could do much damage in so little time.”

Well, Rafe had wrenched a
yes
out of her. And in that moment, shockingly, Kerry had meant that yes with every beat of her pounding heart.

Should she be embarrassed? Horrified? Or jubilant that she’d finally found a man who not only flipped her switch, but ignited every red-blooded cell in her body?
None of the above,
she reminded herself sternly. Dawson was here to help Mark, not distract her by lighting her up like a Fourth of July celebration with his sure hands and velvet voice.

“It’s all good, I swear,” she said finally, pasting on a plastic smile. She judiciously avoided looking at Rafe passed out cold behind her.

Jason had no such qualms and leaned in to look at their victim. “He can’t disturb you for the next twelve hours at least, likely much longer.” Then he frowned. “You know, I don’t think red is his shade of lipstick. Much better on you.”

Kerry tried her best to smile at the jest. “Come on, let’s get him in the house so you can get out of here.”

“Maybe I should stay—”

“We need your inside information at the bank. Besides, you don’t want to risk that butthead Smikins firing you if you fail to show up tomorrow.”

“I could stay for a while, make sure he doesn’t give you any trouble.”

A tempting offer, but not a smart one. “Too risky. Once you leave here, you’re done with this. I’ll swear until the end of time you had nothing to do with my scheme. Staying will only implicate you more.”