I licked my lips, but I didn’t say a word.
“That’s what you want, isn’t it? The adventure. The thrill. That’s why you sent me a note saying that you wanted to play—and why you got pissed when I sent you away.”
I nodded.
“And you’re here with me now because you crave something. Tell me, Sloane. Tell me what you crave.”
“You.”
He shook his head. “Me, yes, but it’s more than that. You want me to take you the rest of the way. You want to find out just how far you can go.” He reached out and stroked my cheek. “Why me, Sloane? I want you to tell me that.”
I forced myself not to take a step back, because how could I answer that question? Because you were right there, the focus of my investigation? Because I still want to get close; I still want inside Destiny; I still want to know what you are up to, and if Kevin is even close to right, I still want to shut you down.
That was all true, but it wasn’t the truth.
The truth was more raw, more scary. Because Tyler Sharp was dangerous. He was edgy. He was not the kind of man I should let under my skin.
Yet I had, and that that truth cut deep inside me. And what scared me was the certainty that if I spoke it aloud, I could never take it back.
Even so, I couldn’t keep silent. So I drew in a breath, gathered my courage, and told this enigmatic, dangerous man the deepest, most essential truth. “Because you saw me. Because you see me. Because nobody else ever has.”
He held my gaze, then slowly nodded. A moment later, he moved to the bed, then sat on the edge. “Come here, he said, and I moved forward to stand between his knees. He reached out for the sash on the robe, then gave it a tug to release the bow. The robe fell open, exposing me to him.
I stayed perfectly still, though my blood was pounding so hard in my veins it was a wonder he couldn’t hear it. He stood, his body so close to mine I could feel his heat. Then he reached with one hand and pulled the sash free from the loops of the robe. Next, he lifted both hands, placed them on my shoulders, and eased the robe off my body.
It pooled at my feet, leaving me naked and warm and frantic for his touch.
Slowly, his gaze skimmed over me, and with each moment that passed, I felt the need inside me grow. I didn’t know what to expect—all I knew was that I wanted it, and now.
“Beautiful.” A single word, but it might as well have been a touch. My breasts tightened, my nipples hardening so much it was almost painful. And my sex ached with a throbbing need that could only be satisfied by his touch.
I wanted to beg for it. To take his hand and place it upon me. Instead, I simply said, “Please.”
“Give me your hand.” His voice was sensual, yet commanding, and I complied without hesitation.
He held me gently, then slowly trailed the end of the silk sash over my arm, my wrist, the back of my hand. I’d never considered hands particularly erotic, but the sensual allure of the silk against my skin was undeniable.
“Please,” I said again, and watched his mouth curve into a smile.
“Please, what?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “Just, please.”
“Whatever the lady wants.” He twisted the sash around my wrist, then knotted it. As he did, I felt something cold rising slowly inside me, fighting through the heat. I bit my lip, resisting the urge to pull my hand back, and forced myself to simply breathe.
“There’s a sensuality in being bound,” he said, as the cold thing began to twist in my belly.
“No,” I whispered, but I didn’t withdraw my hand. The cold had frozen me.
His smile seemed almost amused. “You came to me, Sloane, remember? You came because you wanted to see how far I can take you.”
But not this far, I wanted to scream. You should know. You should see. Not this far.
As if he heard my silent plea, he released my hand, and I almost cried out in gratitude as the ice in my veins began to melt.