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Tears singe the backs of my eyes as he wraps his arms around me and holds me against his body, as if he’s never touched anything more precious. As if he will never value anything above what we share.
An illusion, a mirage. It’s not true. It means nothing. Mentally, I chant the words like a mantra as the pleasure he’s given me slowly ebbs. I can’t give in to these feelings. Sex with someone who refuses to tell me even his name doesn’t actually mean anything, right?
In a normal world, yes. I get the feeling I’m not in Kansas anymore, at least where this man is concerned.
Other than our rough breaths, silence overcomes the room. I bite my lip to hold in my shuddering cries and hot tears.
I fail spectacularly.
Mr. Mysterious took complete control of my body with his slow, thorough imitation of lovemaking. But if what we just shared was merely a fantasy, how the hell did he tear a gaping hole in my defenses so quickly? Worse, thoughts of Noah didn’t just arouse me or send me over the edge; they ripped my emotions wide open.
I don’t understand how this man—this stranger—started thawing the ice around my heart. I’m horrified. I’m scared to death. I feel open and raw and vulnerable in a way I’m not sure I’ve ever been.
“Get out,” I rasp.
“What?” His arms tighten around me. “Lauren—”
“Go.”
Tears seep down my cheeks, and he wipes them away with a tender caress of his thumbs. “Are you hurt?”
“Don’t act like you care. This was sex. Just sex. You’ve had it. Now get the hell out!”
“Is that what you think?” he growls, his voice finally rising above a whisper.
Something familiar about it tugs at me, but I’m discombobulated and strung out on a flood of feelings I’ve been holding in since long before he sneaked into my house. I can’t think.
“Yes!” I hurl back at him. “Random, indiscriminate sex doesn’t mean anything.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“Because I let a total stranger fuck me. Twice.”
He goes taut above me. I feel his seething anger. Anxiety runs cold through my veins. I’m still handcuffed, and I pissed him off. What will he do? My gut feeling goes against all logic, but I don’t think he’ll harm me. He isn’t violent. In fact, I swear I feel his essence—harsh when necessary, giving when he can be, caring to the core.
And suddenly, I hate that I’ve hurt his feelings.
My reaction makes no sense. Why the hell should I care about a stranger’s feelings? Unless I care, too…
Not a good development.
“I made love to you, and you know it,” he growls. “For a minute there, you made love back to me.”
“No,” I choke out.
“Yes, and you’ll do it again.”
“Never.”
He yanks free of my body and jumps off the bed. Based on the sounds of rustling fabric, he’s tugging on his clothes. Suddenly, he leans over me and wraps something soft around my wrists before loosely securing me to the headboard. Then he removes the cuffs.
“By the time you work these ties free and remove the blindfold, I’ll be gone. But I’ll be back.” He presses a quick kiss to my mouth, and I breathe in a lungful of hot male and sex-scented air. “And when I return, I’ll make you eat every one of those words.”
Chapter Four
Monday starts bright and early with an eight-a.m. meeting I’ve been anticipating for weeks. The restaurant chain’s expansion into the affluent areas north and west of Dallas is one of my projects. Noah has given me a lot of latitude in choosing sites and tweaking the menu to suit the locations. Today, I’ll present my recommendations to Noah and the rest of the committee and, with approval, they’ll get started on focus groups that will assist them in making the suburban offering just right.
Today, I struggle to dredge up my normal enthusiasm.
