She wasn’t a petite little thing, so his strength was impressive. He laid her back on the mattress and was instantly beside her, radiating heat off his satiny skin. She pulled the duvet up over her chilling body and her mind’s resistance totally succumbed to the pleasure of absorbing his warmth. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.
The roughness of his face turned her on. She put a hand up to touch it again, stroking the sandpapery skin. It was so masculine, so tough, so bad. She almost laughed at herself for being so turned-on by whiskers. He turned his face and kissed her palm and then she melted.
This was insane. Totally, completely off the charts crazy. How had she let herself get into this mess? Much as she wanted to blame him, try to claim he’d taken her against her will, she couldn’t deny she’d been a very willing participant. Reluctant, but willing. Somehow he’d hypnotized her or something.
Or something. He’d definitely taken charge. Which usually irked her to no end. But it was almost a relief to give in to it, to have the choice taken away from her. And how barbaric and prehistoric was that? Did she want to be dragged by her hair back to a cave?
Apparently so. That’s basically what he’d done.
She closed her eyes. Strange sensations bubbled and churned inside her. God, he could not be right about her. That was so not who she was. She had to be strong, had to be tough to show Grandpa and Joe and every other man she could run that business. Joe kept telling her she had to be honest with herself, but she really didn’t want to think about what this all meant, what this all said about her. It scared the freakin’ crap out of her.
The shades on the window were dark now, the sun having set.
“I have to get back to the city,” she said.
“No.”
She sucked in her bottom lip. “Joe.”
“Tara. You can’t leave. You have no clothes.”
She gave a huff of laughter. “Yes, I do. I keep extra clothes here. They’re in the closet.”
“Not anymore.”
“What!” Her eyes flew open. “You took all the clothes in the closet too? What did you do with them?”
He smiled down at her. “Never mind.” He stroked a hand over her shoulder, sending ribbons of sensations curling through her. “I plan to keep you here, naked and at my mercy.” His forehead crinkled. “Just one problem. I only had one condom.”
“Well. There you go. There’s no point in staying then.”
He smiled. “There are other things we can do.”
She rolled her head from side to side on the pillow. “No. We can’t.”
He flipped her over to her back and loomed above her, radiating heat and intense sexuality.
“Yes,” he said. He bent his head and kissed her again. “We can.”
“But…but I’m hungry.” She had no idea what time it was, but it must be long past dinner time. And she wasn’t just making that up. Her stomach did feel a little hollow.
“Hungry, hmm? Okay. This is how it’s going to work. You do what I tell you to do and I’ll reward you. I’ll let you eat. Go to the bathroom. Have an orgasm.”
She almost choked on her gasp. Her muscles tensed and adrenaline heated her veins. He was the most depraved, infuriating, sadistic animal she’d ever met! He could not do this to her! This was an outrage.
“You have got to be joking!” she growled through gritted teeth. “You’re insane!”
He shook his head, hands tightening on her shoulders even as she tried to lift up off the bed, pressing her down into the mattress. “You, my sweet little spitfire, need to learn some lessons.”
“I’m not learning a damn thing from you! Get off me!”
But he played dirty. Her nipples were tender from all he’d done to them and he had only to put his mouth over one and she was arching up into him, shuddering with delight. He sucked gently, then licked the nipple in a slow stroke that made her wet. Gently he licked and sucked at the tip of each breast, sensation streaking from nipple to womb until she writhed on the bed under him.
Then he stopped.
Jesus! Her pussy throbbed and ached.
“What is there to eat in this house?” he asked.
She blinked up at him, her mind fuzzy and blank. “Eat?”
“You said you were hungry.”
She could have wept, hovering on the edge of an orgasm. How did he do this to her? “I don’t know!”
“Let’s go look.” He rolled out of bed, reached a hand for her and tugged her out too, then led her out of the bedroom.
“Joe! Could we put something on?”
“Nuh-uh. Don’t need clothes.”
He led her into the kitchen where he opened the refrigerator. “Hey. A bottle of wine.”
“What more do we need?” She pursed her lips and folded her arms across her bare breasts.
He kept peering into the fridge. “Olives. Of course. Cheese. D’you think there’s any bread?”
“No.”
He blistered her with a look—a hot, warning look—and she gave a huff and opened a cupboard. “But there are crackers,” she said, pulling out a box.
“Perfect. Find us a plate.”
She tightened her lips but opened another cupboard and retrieved a bright yellow plate, one of the colorful Fiesta dishes filling the cupboards. She set it on the counter and dumped some crackers from the box while Joe sliced cheese.
“And a bowl for these olives,” he said. “And how about some wineglasses?”
Her teeth clenched, but she found a bowl and two wineglasses. He handed her the jar of olives. “Got a corkscrew?”
She took the olives but stood there, staring him down. He smiled.
“I could look through all the drawers,” he said mildly. “But it’s faster if you know where it is.”
“Top left drawer,” she snapped, wrenching the lid off the jar of olives. She scooped a generous mound of olives into a bowl while Joe pulled the cork out of the wine, then poured two glasses. He handed her one.
“Here. This will help relax you.”
“I don’t need to relax.” A ridiculous statement. Her nerves were stretched taut, her muscles so tight her neck was starting to ache. Joe laughed.
He stroked a hand down her arm and she became instantly, skin-tinglingly aware again that they were both naked. His fingers lingered on her wrist, over the pulse that leaped there. “Relax,” he murmured. “Let’s go eat in bed.”
Her eyes widened at that, but she said nothing, picking up her glass and the bowl of olives and following him to the bedroom. She couldn’t even make a break for escape. He was holding her captive there with no restraints.
Chapter Twelve
They sat on the bed, Tara with the covers pulled up demurely under her armpits, eating olives and cheese and crackers and drinking Chardonnay.
“Why’d you join Le Château?” Joe asked.
She looked down at the wine in her glass. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
He nodded. It was personal, a decision to explore something like that. He got that. And he knew she was still struggling with the reasons. Fine. They’d talk about it later.
“Tell me about your parents then,” he said. She considered that as she swirled her wine in her glass, then lifted her eyes. To his surprise, she started talking.
“They died when I was fourteen,” she told him. “In a car accident on the freeway. They’d been in Los Angeles on business.”
“Fourteen is young to lose your parents.”
She nodded. “Sasha was only twelve. Grandpa, of course, stepped right in. He’d been alone for a long time. My grandmother died before I was even born. It must have been hard for him too to lose his wife so early and then his son. But he moved to Santa Barbara so we could stay in the home we knew, stay in the school we knew, and looked after us. He gave us everything.”