“I thought so,” he said, stepping closer and sliding his fingers between my legs, then arching a brow when he felt my slick heat. “So tell me, Detective. Doesn’t it feel good to be bad?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “God, yes.”
“I want to be inside you now.”
His words were a seduction, a promise, an enticement.
“We can’t. We shouldn’t.” But my body was already thrumming, and it was all I could do not to writhe against his hand.
He drew me close, kissed me softly. “We can,” he said. “And we probably shouldn’t. But we will anyway.”
“How do you do this to me?” I whispered. “I’ve never felt—never done—”
“Because I see you,” he said, reaching out to lightly tease my breasts. “And because I told you what I saw. Lay down, Sloane.”
I did, resting my head and shoulders on the discarded clothes. My heart pounded, and I could see the way my pale skin glowed in the moonlight. I glanced around, afraid I would see some person peering out from the shadows to watch us.
But there was no one, only Tyler, looking at me with such fierce desire that my body fired even more, my breasts tightening, and my sex throbbing with the need for his touch.
“Jesus,” he said, “you make me hard.”
“Then fuck me,” I said, reaching for him. He knelt over me, and my fingers found his fly, tugged it down. I slipped my hand inside and found his cock, so hard, so ready. “I want you dressed. I want you like this. Here. Now.” I met his eyes. “I want skin on skin, Tyler.”
He tilted his head, the posture casual, but there was heat—and understanding—in his eyes. “Do you?”
“Desperately. I’m clean,” I said. “Tell me you are, too.”
“I am,” he said.
“Then fuck me,” I begged, then closed my mouth over his, the kiss hard and wild. He’d cast a spell over me, but I didn’t care. I wanted this. Wanted him. Wanted the night sky above us.
“Fuck me,” I repeated as I tugged his hand, tumbling him down on top of me.
“Fuck me,” I cried, as he drove himself into me, deeper and harder, taking everything I had to give and then some. My body was open to him, wild for him. I’d never known anything like this. Freedom mixed with fear, wildness tied to desire, lust keyed on just one man.
“Tyler,” I moaned, as the building orgasm whipped over me, pulling me up and out of myself, and then—finally—spiraling me off into the night, and into the stars that rained like a firestorm down upon us.
Chapter Eighteen
I awoke to the aroma of coffee and the sensation of something soft brushing over my naked abdomen. I opened my eyes, only to find that I still couldn’t see.
Blindfold.
I shot up, spurred into motion by the burst of fear. My heart was pounding, and my fingers grappled at my face—then were suddenly stopped by strong warm hands gently pulling my fingers free before I could rip the blindfold away.
Tyler.
“Tyler, please.”
“Shhh. You’re not tied up. You’re safe. You’re still in bed, and you’re safe.” He brushed a kiss over my lips. “I want you to leave it on. If you have to take it off, I won’t stop you. But if you can do this, I know that you’ll enjoy it—and I’m damn certain I’ll take you places you haven’t gone before.”
I swallowed, still edgy, but I trusted him, and I was calmer.
I wiggled my arms and legs as if to reassure myself that I could run.
“Anytime? I can rip it off anytime I want to?”
“Of course.”
I managed an ironic smile. “Last night you wanted me to see the stars, and now you won’t even let me see the room?”
He laughed, obviously understanding that my words were my acquiescence.
“Sight is an amazing thing, Detective. It makes it so much easier to appreciate a woman’s lovely curves.” I heard him move around the bed, could almost feel his eyes upon me. “To see more vividly all of her delights …”
Gently, he took my ankles, then spread my legs.