Into the Fire - Leslie Kelly [59]
He reached for her.
"Ah, ah. Do I really have to tie you up?" she scolded.
The thought was shocking. Provocative. Enticing. "I'll be good," he finally replied wistfully.
"Oh, there's no question about that, Nate Logan. No question at all."
He chuckled at her vehemence.
"You're the love slave. And you're ordered to stay very still I'm going to give you a taste of your own medicine, Mr. Everyday Stud."
Smiling as he recognized the title of his article, Nate knew he was in for a long night of sensual torment. "Turnabout is fair play," he murmured, knowing how much he'd enjoyed holding back, giving her pleasure while waiting for his own until he couldn't stand it anymore. Who was he to argue if she wanted the same?
"I never imagined how much I'd like to play," Lacey replied as she finally moved her fingers below the elastic waistband and eased the boxers off his body.
And play she did. Until it was Nate who begged for mercy. Only after he threatened serious retaliation did she move her mouth off him and straddle him on the bench. She took delight in teasing him as she slipped a condom over his erection, taking her sweet time until he gritted his teeth and groaned in frustration. Then, finally, she engulfed him with her wet heat in one long, smooth stroke.
"Oh, I like this bench, Nate," she whispered throatily. "This might just be my favorite spot in your home."
"Wait'll you see my bathtub," he managed to mutter.
Then she began to move, retaining control, setting the pace for their pleasure. He let her, keeping his hands on the bars, focusing on the slide of his skin against hers as she moved her body up and down.
As Lacey, naked, glorious, confident and in control, reached her climax, crying out her delight, Nate realized something.
He simply wasn't going to let her go.
* * *
Chapter 9
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W hen she woke the next morning, Lacey realized within five seconds that she wasn't in her own bed. The jewel-toned sheets, so unlike her lemon-yellow ones, provided the first clue. There was also the heavy, masculine arm draped across her hip. Not to mention the hard, muscular thigh entwined with her legs.
She glanced at Nate, who slept on his side facing her. Even now, his lips were curled into a tiny smile. He appeared to be having a very nice dream.
Or maybe he was remembering.
"Oh, boy," she whispered at the thought of everything they'd done together during the long hours of the previous night. When she paused to consider, though, she felt no regret. Yes, she'd had a recklessly erotic encounter with a man she'd only known a week, but she'd done nothing of which she was ashamed. They were both single, unattached and wildly attracted to one another. If her feelings went even deeper, if she suspected she might be on the verge of falling head over heels in love with him—well, she hadn't been stupid enough to let him know that, had she? She hadn't made declarations, hadn't demanded promises. She'd indulged her body and protected her heart. Both on the most magnificent night of her life.
Lacey eased out of bed, made her way into the bathroom and took a long shower. As she washed, every touch on her skin brought back the feel of Nate's hands, his lips. She leaned her head against the cool tile of the shower wall, letting the water pelt her, trying to ease muscles that were sore from last night's more frenzied activity. The mental images brought heat to her cheeks.
Though she knew she should be embarrassed down to her toes, particularly when remembering how she'd reacted to the radio show, Lacey felt no humiliation. A week ago she hadn't had the confidence to touch herself so intimately, even in private. Now, thanks to Nate, she could finally face her deep sensual needs. Before, she'd hidden them, repressed them, only allowing herself silly luxuries like expensive underclothes. No more. Whatever happened between her and Nate now, she wouldn't hide that aspect of herself any longer.
When Lacey emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel,