Boiling Point (Crossing the Line #3)

“Pants?”

“No,” she answered, shaking her head. After taking a moment to savor the power of standing above Austin, she bent forward, sliding her hands up his strong thighs, and stopped just short of his distended fly. “I’ll be taking care of you below the waist.”

When she dropped to her knees between his legs, Austin growled a curse, his sculpted stomach shuddering. “I should warn you, I’m feeling more than a little possessive of your mouth this morning after seeing you smile at another man. You made me want to kill, Polly.”

Unable to ignore the jolt of feminine pleasure his admission gave her—dark though it had been—she undid his belt, yanking the leather free of his pant loops with enough force to jerk his hips forward on the seat. “Is that supposed to serve as a warning?”

“Yes.” The single word came out sounding strangled, his grip so tight on the chair’s edges the wood creaked beneath it. “I suggest using that rope to keep my hands off. I’ll be tempted to reclaim the mouth that did the smiling. And I doubt I’d be gentle about it.”

A shiver of heat coasted down her back. The idea of Austin’s hands tangled in her hair, urging her mouth down faster, wasn’t unpleasant. Just the opposite, actually. It caused a breath-stealing clench between her legs. But what she had in mind appealed much more in that moment. She lowered his zipper at a leisurely pace, so at odds with her thundering pulse. “Do you need a reminder of who’s holding the rope, Austin?”

A muscle jumped in his cheek. “Yes. Remind me.”

Polly ran her fingers around the back of his loosened waistband, barely caging a moan when Austin lifted his hips without question so she could tug down his pants, leaving him clad only in a white pair of boxer briefs. She could see right through them, and there wasn’t a single doubt in her mind that Austin knew it. Knew she could make out every ridge of the erection pointing toward his muscled abdomen. He was extraordinary, in every sense of the word. His growled plea from the previous night came back to her, carried on a dark cloud of lust. Please yourself with me. My body. My cock. Own it all.

Confidence amplified, Polly ran a finger down his hard stomach, circling the fat head of his arousal, before tucking it under the material of his briefs. “Who owns all of this?”

His harsh exhale was directed at the ceiling. “You know you do.”

Polly scooted forward on her knees and kissed Austin’s erection through the white briefs, smiling when it swelled beneath her mouth. She ignored the way he widened his knees and offered himself to her, performing the same maneuver she’d done with his pants to remove the briefs, leaving him naked. The room was silent, save Austin’s breathing. Or maybe it was all she chose to hear, because it garnered all her attention. In, out, in, in, out. It sounded like a rainstorm to her ears. Second-guessing herself wasn’t an option as she looped the silk rope around the base of his erection. Once, twice. Even when the rainstorm cut out.

Complete silence reigned as she ran the rope alongside the chair. She wound each side once around the front corresponding chair leg, and walked on her knees to the other side, behind Austin. The muscles in his broad back rippled with awareness, his head turning to the side as if to watch her, although in her current position, she wasn’t visible to him. Polly retrieved one of two loose ends of the silk, using it to manacle Austin’s left hand with a secure knot, then doing the same with his right. When Polly had completed her task, she stared, a little disbelieving of the treatment she’d devised, but incurably excited by what was to come. Any movement of Austin’s hands—bound on either side of his hips—would cause the silk loops to tighten around his erection.

And she planned to make sure it moved. Thickened.

Polly stood, running her hands up Austin’s back—

The rainstorm started again, loud gusts of breath battering the room’s stillness. When she circled back around to the front of him, she saw that his eyes were glassy, the impressive flesh between his legs straining, made all the more prominent by the tight silk at his root.