Part 6 (2/2)

It wasn't a cheesy set of instructions. Inside the envelope was the door key, as well as a handwritten note in firm, elegant script.

Forgive me.

Forgive me for my anger. You rouse such pa.s.sion in me. Forgive me for my irrationality. You distract me and make me forget logic. Forgive me for ever questioning whether I love myself more, or you.

I am truly naked before you.

James I stood there a moment, my breath shaky. That was what he had said at the ball, when I'd insisted he tell me his real name. He'd thrown the condom away and said it was time I learned that he was truly naked before me.

I'd thought he was merely making a play on words of some kind, his way of poetically saying that he wanted to come inside me, to be as close as possible. I had been so high on endorphins, pleasure, and the newness and intensity of it all that I hadn't heard the edge in his voice, hadn't realized that the entire time he had been f.u.c.king me he was in a downward spiral of panic and fear.

Something clicked. That woman, Ferrara, had been trying to blackmail him into marriage, or something, all along. That made him wary of s.e.x or relations.h.i.+ps with anyone who knew who he was. Add to that how vulnerable his feelings for me had made him... No wonder he bolted when I forced his name out of him!

That didn't justify his actions, but at least I felt I was starting to understand them.

I slid the key into the lock and opened the door. The room was dim. ”James?” He was sitting on the corner of the bed, facing the window. The curtains were drawn and only one light on the far side of him was on.

My breath caught as I realized what I was seeing. He was naked. A blindfold covered his eyes and his hands were bound behind his back. His feet were flat on the floor, knees spread, his b.a.l.l.s enticingly exposed. His c.o.c.k appeared to be rising. He looked like a statue, one of those Greek sculptures with perfectly muscled chest and abs, his cheekbones emphasized by the edge of the cloth over his eyes and his lips barely parted.

I slid my sandals off and tiptoed until I was directly in front of him. ”James,” I said, louder.

He startled, his shoulders giving a tiny jerk, his spine stiffening.

”James,” I said more softly, drawing the ”a” out longer. ”I thought we were going to talk things over like real people.”

He moistened his lips with his tongue before he began to speak. ”If this isn't real for you, Karina...” He swallowed and drew a shaky breath. Afraid. ”Then I should go back to New York without you.”

He's afraid of s.e.x itself, I realized. Each time we'd had it-full intercourse, I mean-he'd gotten angry at me and tried to run away. Because he was afraid of being so exposed? Or so connected?

That he was presenting himself to me this way, vulnerable and bound, made my breath catch in my throat. ”You're saying I'm in control?”

He swallowed. ”I'm showing you.”

”And if all I want to do is talk to you?”

”Then I'll listen.”

”And if I want to interrogate you?” The idea, I admit, had appeal.

”Then I'll talk.”

”Hmm.”

I reached out and cupped his b.a.l.l.s, then drew my fingers upward along his shaft, which quivered expectantly. A dewy droplet gathered at the tip. I ran one finger over it, drawing a slow spiral on the head of his c.o.c.k, and this time as his breath stuttered in and out of him, it was with equal parts l.u.s.t and fear.

”Naked before me,” I said softly.

”Utterly,” he said.

”You did say you'd do anything to gain my forgiveness.”

”I did.”

I ran my fingertips up his shaft again. ”Anything?”

”Anything. Because I trust...” He swallowed again, struggling to speak. ”I trust you.”

The feeling of power that surged through me made me dizzy. Having seen what sorts of things went on at the ”society” parties in London, I knew I could make him suffer for having made me suffer. If I wanted to, I could violate him, even humiliate him.

But I didn't see the point in doing that. So what if making him prance naked down the hallway with a carnation in his teeth saying ”I'm sorry” two hundred times was well within my rights? That wouldn't fix things between us. I could singe the hair off his b.a.l.l.s with a cigarette lighter if I wanted to, but that wouldn't heal the pain I'd felt.

And being whipped or humiliated wasn't what he feared anyway. He feared giving up control. He feared exposure. And at some very deep level, he was afraid of s.e.x itself.

Well, thanks to him, I wasn't. I slid my panties off. ”I'm wearing a dress, James. Would you like me to describe it to you since you can't see it?”

”I would like that.”

”It's blue. Not as dark a blue as that other dress; you know the one. A much lighter blue. This one is also shorter. It's a casual dress, but it's pretty, and I look pretty in it. At least, my mother thinks so. She thinks it's a nice dress.”

”I'm sure your mother is quite right.”

I slid my fingers between my legs. Beyond the tuft of hair on my mons, I wasn't surprised to find my shaven l.a.b.i.a slick. James naked and at my mercy was one of the hottest things I had ever seen.

I straddled him then, and he drew his legs together slightly to give me better support. I scooted forward until my lower lips were touching his c.o.c.k. I rocked my hips, spreading my slickness onto him.

I stood where I was, still astride him, and took his chin in one hand. I bent my neck to kiss him, eating at his mouth until he opened to me, not breaking away until both of us were whimpering. I lowered my body until the head of his c.o.c.k was b.u.mping against the inside of my thigh.

”You would never lie to me when you're inside me, would you, James?” I whispered, as I reached down to steady him with my hand.

”I would never lie to you at all, Kar-” He sucked in a gasp as I impaled myself on him.

”Hush,” I murmured in his ear. ”I'll want to hear it all, later.” I concentrated on relaxing enough to take him in as I slid lower and lower. Once I settled with him completely inside me, I reached down to circle my c.l.i.t with two fingers. We both gasped as I tightened around him.

”I've missed you,” he whispered.

”I said hush,” I whispered back, and he bit his lip, chastened.

I lifted myself up, drawing him out of me slowly, then lowered just as slowly. All the practicing I had done for the dance at the ArtiWorks had given me quads of steel.

I f.u.c.ked him that way, as slowly as he had once f.u.c.ked me, forcing the penetration to be so gradual it was agonizing for both of us. I s.h.i.+fted so I could rub my c.l.i.t against the rigid muscles of his abdomen as I went up and down.

”So. Here's your chance, James. You have until I come to make your case. To convince me I should give you another chance. And in case it's not clear, you better not come first.”

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