“No. I’m not into bondage. You were going to be my exception.”
“You’re afraid of me?”
“No.” He leaned against the wall, hands shoved in his pockets. “It was intended for you not for me.”
“So … you thought after my experience with Four that I might like to be restrained during sex?”
“I thought you might want to be with me and not feel guilty for making me bleed. I thought we could use the idea behind bondage to establish trust.”
“I see. So you don’t trust me?”
“I trust you implicitly.”
She drew in a slow breath. “How can you say that?” she whispered.
“Because I believe you.”
“What do you believe?”
Luke pushed off the wall and bent over, resting his hands on the arms of her chair—his face inches from hers. “I believe you love me.”
He looked at her lips and she looked at his.
“Kiss me, Jones.”
*
How could he trust her when she didn’t trust herself? His lips met hers and it didn’t matter. Jessica needed him beyond passion, beyond reason, beyond breathing.
Her hands went straight for his hair as she dropped her feet to the floor. She fell so deep into his kiss her lungs screamed for air, yet her tongue reached for more. The harder she tugged, the louder he moaned. His taste brought her to life. His smell drowned all thought. His touch felt like a whispered promise.
“Luke …” His name floated from her lips—a fervent plea—a prayer. The heat of his mouth drifted down her neck. She arched her back begging to feel him anywhere and everywhere all at once.
Luke wrapped her tight in his arms until their bodies cursed the clothes between them. He laid her on the bed, her hands tugging and pulling at his pants, his drawing the straps to her top down her arms.
She closed her eyes. “What if I—”
“Do it.” He freed her breasts and sucked one nipple while kneading the other with a firm grip. “I’ll die if we stop.”
Want.
Need.
Trust.
“I’ll hate myself if we don’t.”
He stilled. Releasing her breast, he closed his eyes and sighed.
“You hate me?” She grimaced, not really wanting him to answer.
Eyes still shut, he shook his head.
“But I’m killing you.”
He nodded then looked at her. She rolled to her side and sat up, pulling her top back in place.
“Dammit!” she yelled and pounded her fists into the bed. “What is wrong with me? I’ve been thinking about this for months. I’m a freaking statistical phenomena. Who goes from less than zero percent to one hundred in two weeks’ time?”
He reached for her but she stood and pulled away. “Jessica …”
“No.” She began to pace the room. “Don’t try to down play this. I’m a cock tease, plain and simple. How did this happen? I’m the RSVP girl and you did. You RSVP’d and both times you’ve been denied access. Cock. Tease!”
“Jessica …”
“I’m not a procrastinator. I get the job done. It may get a little bloody, but I do it. Be damned the consequences!” She ran her fingers through her hair. “You gave me permission to make you bleed. Nobody does that. Why did you do that? I don’t need your permission … that negates the whole point of it. You’ve completely messed with my mojo.”
Luke fought back a smirk. “Your sex mojo?”
“Yes! Exactly.” She steepled her fingers against her lips. “Now the question is why? Why are you messing with my sex mojo?”
He rolled onto his back and flopped his arm over his face. “This is the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had … and I’ve had some really weird conversations.”
“Come on, Jones. Show me your stuff. In your expert opinion why is this happening to me?”
“I’m not doing this.”
“Why not?” She planted her fists on her hips.
“Because I’ll come across as some conceited jerk.”
“Say it.”
“No,” he grumbled.
“Say. It!”
“Fine!” He sprang up, ramrod straight. “You can’t have sex with me because you’re scared. I’m probably the only person who completely trusts you and that scares you because you love me. You care what I think and the idea of hurting me and breaking that trust scares you to death because you don’t. Trust. Yourself.”
She blinked at him, over and over again. “It’s not the pain. I know you could handle my nails and teeth breaking your skin. It’s the embarrassment … because nobody in their right mind does that. And I know how ludicrous it must sound saying this to my ex-psychiatrist, but I don’t want you to think that I’m crazy.”
She bit her upper lip and sighed. “Sometimes it works. In the throes of passion, drawing blood can heighten the desire, intensify the lust. But afterword, the scars and bite marks are no longer sexy … they’re insane. The so-called ‘control’ I need during sex, it’s emasculating to normal men. I’ve never slept with the same guy twice.”
“You think I’ll leave you if we have sex?”