Authors: Gigi Moore
He could feel her pulling away from him—emotionally as well as physically—and held onto her hand as she tried to pull it free.
Not so fast, Desi
. “I’ll take you back to the house.”
“And you said you weren’t a Boy Scout.”
“I’m not. But my mama raised me right and I am from Nawlins.”
“And that would make you a Southern gentleman.”
“You got it.”
This time she didn’t try to pull away as he led her up the road toward the main house.
Sam didn’t know what he’d do if they bumped into anyone on the way. It wasn’t nearly that late after all, and the early spring weather was unseasonably warm.
He and Carson had really been looking forward to a quick dip in the stream in their animal forms before Desiree had burst through the bush.
Sam wondered why she had been out in the woods. What had she hoped to find? Had she actually been looking for them?
They managed to avoid bumping into anyone from the main house all the way up until Desiree let them into the house. Maia made her way down the spiral staircase and arched a brow when she spotted them standing at the door.
“I was just about to send out the cavalry, but now I see I needn’t have worried.”
“I wasn’t gone that long,” Desiree said.
“Long enough.” Maia continued down the stairs, elegant, long fingers trailing along the polished banister before pausing to grip the sculpted knob of the newel at the bottom of the staircase. “Thanks for getting her back safely,” she said to Sam.
He took off his Stetson in a sweeping gesture and nodded. “I didn’t mind at all.”
“You see, Desi? He didn’t mind. I daresay he likes being in your company.”
Sam felt heat flood his cheeks and ears and knew they were flushed red. Maia had a habit of doing that to people, especially him, it seemed. She had a quick, fresh tongue, that one. “I like Desiree’s company just fine,” he rasped.
“So I hope that means you won’t be rushing off so soon.” Maia strolled the rest of the way down the stairs, and as she neared her sister she bent her head and said something for only Desiree’s ears.
Sam watched Desiree’s copper cheeks flood with color, probably matching his, and wondered exactly what Maia had said to her.
“Sam does have work to do,” Desiree said.
“I don’t think his shift starts until a little later. He’s got plenty of time for a social visit, don’t you, Sam?” Maia squeezed his biceps as she walked by him to open the front door. Before he could answer, she turned to face him and her sister. “I think I’ll go take a little evening stroll myself. Who knows what I might find and bring back from the wilderness?” Then she left the house and closed the door behind her.
Sam shook his head. That one there was just plain incorrigible. He could just imagine what it must have been like growing up with her and laughed at the thought of a bossy young Maia giving her older sister grief.
“I don’t see what’s so funny,” Desiree said, but he could see that she was more frustrated than angry.
“I just pictured her as a kid and how she must have driven you crazy when you both were young.”
“She’s still driving me crazy now.”
“But you love her.”
“She’s my sister. Can’t live with her. Can’t kill her.”
Sam chuckled. “I feel the same way about Carson.”
Desiree turned to face him full, expression grave. “You know he really didn’t hurt me. He didn’t do anything to me that I didn’t want him to. I just changed my mind about…things. Once I did, when I asked him to stop, he did.”
What made her change her mind? Had it been just plain old cold feet or something deeper, darker, maybe
someone
darker from her past?
Sam raised a hand to cup her face. “You have to know that neither of us would go beyond a certain point with you without your permission.”
“I…I want to believe that.”
She obviously didn’t. Something had to have happened to her to make her so distrustful—of men in particular, of people in general. It was obvious she put a high premium on a man stopping when she asked him to, and maybe that was because some man in her past hadn’t.
Carson had obviously passed that test with her, but could both of them pass the rest of her tests? Could they get beyond the rest of the walls she had erected or penetrate her obviously ingrained defenses?
Desiree took his hand again and led him up the stairs.
Sam silently followed, now more than ever wondering what Maia had whispered in her sister’s ear. If they were black-widow serial-killer siblings plotting to murder him, he had to admit he would have fallen right into their web, because he followed behind Desiree like an eager puppy looking for a treat, just one morsel from his mistress.
Desiree took him through a maze of halls, past several doors, before finally stopping at one and opening it. She led him into the space, an outsized, lavishly furnished suite of rooms with a French window that led out onto a balcony.
He looked at the light drapes, drawn back and blowing in the slight breeze, and thought this must have been the balcony from where Maia had been chatting with him a couple of weeks previous.
Where had Desiree been? Hiding? He’d known she’d been nearby because he had smelled her. It had been the main reason he’d paused under the balcony. By the time he’d glanced up she’d been gone, though, replaced with her brazen younger sister.
Desiree finally released his hand and moved to the center of the room, spreading her arms wide. “Well, this is it, the old homestead and the place where I rest my head at night.”
Sam nodded and looked around some more, cursorily noticing the five-tiered bookshelf stuffed with books and the matching maple rocking chair positioned between it and one of the nightstands by the queen-sized, canopied bed.
He could just picture Desiree sitting and rocking in that sturdy, old-fashioned chair as she read one of the wide-ranging books from the shelf. Maybe she’d have a hand-crocheted blanket draped across her lap and sip from a mug of hot chocolate on a coaster atop the nightstand, then glance back down at the pages through that pair of stylish glasses he’d glimpsed her in before.
That image didn’t go with the one she conjured, however, when she closed the space between them, tilted her head back to look up at him searchingly, and murmured, “Will you let me tie you up?”
Chapter 9
Desiree watched Sam’s mouth drop open. He looked like he was strangling on his own tongue. She almost wanted to take back her request—almost.
“You want to—?”
“Tie you up.” She lifted her chin just a tad and squared her shoulders, emboldened now by Sam’s shocked but fascinated expression. She could just imagine all the thoughts about her going through his head, that she was kinky, a freak, or some kind of nympho. He could think what he wanted, she thought, as long as he let her do what she wanted to him, as long as he let her have control.
She realized then, however, if she wanted control, she’d have to take it. She probably shouldn’t have even asked him and given him a chance to say no and reject her. She should have just seduced him and tied him up while they were in the throes of passion. She didn’t think he would have denied her then. She didn’t think he could have denied her then.
“Okay.”
Now it was Desiree’s turn to gape. Seemed he wouldn’t deny her at all.
She didn’t, however, believe that she would have gotten the same response from Carson. He was too domineering to ever allow anyone the upper hand or control over him. Just the way he’d gone at her jeans and ripped them and her panties down told her a lot.
But he stopped. As rough as he had been—and, God help you, you liked it—he stopped
when you asked him to
. “You will?”
“If that’s what you want.”
His voice was so firm, his face unreadable now, as if sculpted in granite. At that moment, he didn’t seem any less domineering than his older brother.
But he said okay.
She hadn’t anticipated his agreement, had barely thought about what she was going to ask him before the ludicrous request flew out of her mouth. Evidently it wasn’t ludicrous to Sam.
Now what was she going to do?
“I’m all yours, Desi, whatever you want to do with me.”
Oh, that was a loaded statement. She wanted to do so many things with him, to him, and she wanted him to do just as many of those things with and to her.
“I want you.” She repeated Carson’s earlier words.
“You’ve got me.”
“Do I?” The words were barely audible, she knew, said almost to herself. She wasn’t interested in owning Sam and his brother, was she?
Sam turned from her and headed for the bed that held center stage of the big room with its four towering maple posts, practically standing sentry and waiting for Desiree to string him from them.
She stood silent, watching him as he sat on the end of the bed, toed and kicked off his boots, then peeled off his socks. Her breath hitched in her chest at the sight of his big bare feet.
How could a man’s tootsies get her so worked up? What did she have, a foot fetish?
Desiree watched him reach for the buttons on his shirt and slowly undo them. It proved the sexiest sequence of moves she had ever seen executed by a set of long, lean, tanned fingers before. Desiree held her breath as he slid the shirt off of his shoulders and down his well-built arms before finally dropping it to the Persian area rug. She switched her weight from one leg to the other, trying to ease the pressure of her quickly swelling clit against the crotch of her jeans. Her panties were soaked with her dew and she was sure he could smell her arousal even from that distance.
Sam reached out a hand. “Want to finish undressing me?”
She toed and kicked off her own boots before haltingly crossing the room to stand before him. She silently stared down at him as he stared up at her with those liquid honey eyes.
He leaned back on his elbows and arched a brow at her, more cocky than submissive when he opened his legs to let her stand between them.
He played with her now, giving her the illusion of control, but this remained all right as long as he did what he’d promised, and his next words gave every indication that he would. “How do you want me?”
Any way I can get you.
“Sit up and raise your arms,” she rasped.
He did, just barely smothering a smirk.
Cocky bastard
. He and his brother were two of a kind. Hard to believe Sam was almost six years younger than her. He acted and sounded like he was six or more years older, and it made Desiree wonder about his background. What had shaped the young Cajun cowboy before her? Why had he and his brother and mother left their home in “Nawlins”?
Desiree bent her knee and pressed it against the crotch of Sam’s jeans, rubbing the hard bulge growing there as she reached for the hem of his T-shirt. Her heart stuttered at his low moan and she took a deep breath to enjoy the fresh-laundered, musky-male scent of the shirt when she drew it over his head and arms.
When she got it off and discarded it, she took another good look at his piercing gaze and almost audibly gulped. She felt like she was in the room with and teasing a predatory animal through the bars of his cage. In a sense, she was with a predatory animal. What animal was more predatory and dangerous, after all, than an aroused man?