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  Encouraged, she spread her hands over his chest, tangling her fingers in his dark chest hair, stroking him as he'd stroked her.

  Ariel noted a thin, light line near his collarbone, about two inches long. It looked like it might have been a deep cut, perhaps with a knife. Appalled at the awful risks he took, she kissed that, too.

  This close, his scent was twice as potent. Those odd turbulent feelings roused in her again.

  She kissed three bruises, one on his shoulder, his temple, another on his ribs. "Sam," she whispered, and opened her mouth on him. His skin was deliciously warm and sleek, his flesh firm. Turning her head, she moved closer to a flat nipple hidden beneath his chest hair. Her tongue touched him.

  Sam grabbed her shoulders. In a heartbeat, Ariel found herself flat on her back with Sam straddling her hips. "I said no touching, Ariel."

  She blinked up at him, unable to move, confused by how quickly he'd reversed their positions. He sounded so stern, looked so dangerous. "I'll try…"

  "Too late."

  Her eyes widened. Oh no. He was going to tell her to leave. He would throw her out and she hadn't had a real chance yet to make him understand how perfect they'd be together.

  He stretched her arms high until they nearly touched the slatted headboard, then reached across her for the nightstand and jerked open the top drawer. Ariel twisted, trying to see what he was doing … He pulled out handcuffs.

  "Sam."

  "I haven't had much chance to use these since going undercover." He let them dangle in front of her face, waiting, she knew, for her to protest, to insist he release her.

  They stared at each other, his expression lethal, hers uncertain, but neither of them backed down. Sam leaned over her.

  One metal bracelet clicked around her wrist, then clicked and clicked again when he tightened it to fit her small bones. She had room to turn her hand, but she couldn't slip it free. Her stomach fluttered in apprehension.

  He glared down at her. "You ready to call a halt?"

  Damn him. She wasn't a criminal he could intimidate so easily, because she knew Sam would never hurt her. No matter his games, no matter his intent, she knew him, loved him, and trusted him. "No."

  His mouth tightened. "Make sure, Ariel."

  She would not let him scare her. She would not let him off the hook that easily, either. One way or another, she'd get through to him, even if that meant showing him her trust first by playing out these bizarre games of sexual dominance.

  She stared him in the eyes. "I'm sure."

  * * *

  Sam wanted to howl, to curse the moon and punch a hole in the wall. Ariel had taken his control and turned it back on him, openly sharing her pleasure, then kissing his injuries—old and new—as if she wanted to heal him.

  Like a few stupid marks on his body really mattered to her.

  He was so damn hard his guts clenched and his brain cramped. Watching Ariel come had been something he'd never forget. She was so sweet she made him break out in a sweat just by smiling.

  Would she taste as sweet as she looked?

  Jesus. Before he could change his mind he caught her other wrist, aware of how tiny her bones were, how delicate. He slipped the chain connecting the handcuffs through a slat in the headboard then snapped the cold steel around her.

  Breathing hard in both regret and shattering lust, he looked down at her pale, slim body stretched out beneath him, shackled in place. He didn't want to think about anything, he only wanted to devour her, to take everything she had and give her another mind-blowing orgasm.

  He plumped up her breasts in his hands, thumbed her nipples roughly, watched her squirm.

  "Not a word," he warned, knowing if she started telling him what she wanted again, he'd lose the fight. He moved off her, opened her legs wide and repositioned himself between them, on his knees so he could drape her legs over his. "That's better."

  Those beautiful hazel eyes of hers, now more topaz than brown, watched him without blinking, conveying some silent message that he damn well didn't want to hear. Her mouth looked puffy and soft and kissable. Her small chin quivered, but not because she might cry. No, he knew Ariel wouldn't do that.

  Probably it quivered with stubbornness.

  "I like to see a woman, all of her, when I take her," he explained. Her legs draped his, white against his dark slacks, sleek and lightly muscled. He looked at her breasts. Earlier her nipples had been velvety soft, but once he'd touched them, they'd stayed puckered, begging for his mouth.

  She lightly licked her lips, luring him. Bracing his hands on the pillow at either side of her head, Sam bent down and savaged her mouth with ruthless hunger, kissing her hard, thrusting his tongue between her teeth. She didn't fight him or pull back. No, she accepted his tongue, sucked on it, returned his kiss with equal passion.

  He groaned, aware of her straining up to him, trying to get more of him. Her thighs were tensed, her belly lifting into him.

  He pulled himself away and took his pleasure at her breasts. He loved suckling a woman and could be content to spend an hour on her nipples alone. But not this time. As soon as Ariel started writhing, he moved lower, nibbling on her ribs, then lower still until he could dip his tongue into her navel.

  She held her breath, anticipating what he might do, he knew. Did she like oral sex? Had any man ever kissed her between her thighs? He hoped not. He wanted to be the first.

  "Wider," he said as he pressed her legs farther apart and held them in place when she would have automatically brought them together again. He glanced up at her still face, flushed but uncertain. "Keep them that way."

  Using his fingertips, he opened her lips, exposing her glistening pink flesh. Her clitoris was swollen from her recent climax, extra sensitive. Gently, he kissed her, heard her shocked, eager gasp, and he closed his mouth around the tender bud.

  With a hoarse cry, she nearly lurched away, but he cupped her hips firmly in his big hands and held her secure. Because he knew her nerve endings were already tingling, still alive from her last orgasm, he was very careful not to push her too fast, to cause her any discomfort. He suckled softly, easily, taking his time, stroking with his tongue. When she was ready for more, her legs stiffened and her arms pulled tight against her bonds.

  "Sam," she said, all breathless and low. "Sam, Sam, Sam…"

  Her cries were raw, real, and he loved it, the way she responded, the pleasure he gave her so easily. She didn't hold back at all, didn't try to temper her response. He replaced his mouth with his fingers and raised his head to see her face.

  Her neck was arched, her teeth clenched, her breasts heaving. "Beautiful," he breathed, ready to come just from looking at her. After endless moments, she quieted, and Sam moved up beside her, smoothed her hair from her face, placed a kiss on her open lips.

  "That was nice." He waited, but she didn't open her eyes, didn't reply. Sam smiled. "For a youngun', you come with a lot of energy. I like it."

  Sweat glistened on her chest, the tops of her cheekbones. A rosy flush covered her body and her heart still raced. With an obvious effort, she licked her lips, swallowed, and said, "Shut up, Sam."

  He grinned, fighting off a chuckle. "You're not supposed to talk."

  She cast him a wanton look that nearly did him in. "No? I've never been handcuffed before, Officer. What should I be doing?"

  Sam lowered his hand to her belly and felt it hollow out when she dragged in a breath. "Rest. You're going to need your strength."

  "I am?"

  "Mmm. I'll give you a few minutes before we start again."

  Her eyes widened, darkened. "Start…? Sam, no. I … I can't."

  He pushed his hand lower until he cupped her mound. She was slick, very wet and pulsing with heat. "Yes you can." All the teasing left him. "I'll see to it."

  She squeezed her eyes shut. "Sam…"

  "Crying uncle?"

  A sob almost rose in her throat, but she managed to swallow it back. Sam watched her closely, waiting for the
words he needed to hear, waiting for her to tell him to fuck off, to get out of her life once and for all.

  "No. I'm not crying uncle."

  They watched each other, at a stalemate, until finally Sam cursed. "Fine. Have it your way." His fingers curled against her, his middle finger sinking past her creamy wetness, into her up to his first knuckle—and someone rang his doorbell.

  They both jerked to a breathless, astonished standstill. Their motions were frozen.

  Ariel gasped, "You have company?"

  Sam shoved himself off the bed and stalked to the window, barely moving the curtain aside to peer out. "Ah fuck." A loud knock sounded.

  He turned to Ariel, took in the sight of her handcuffed naked to his bed and knew he'd just screwed up royally.

  "Who is it?" she whispered in a fearful voice.

  Sam rubbed his face. "It's Pete."

  "Ohmigod." She began jerking and twisting. "Let me loose!"

  He walked past her. "No, just be quiet. I'll get rid of him and be right back. I promise." He snatched up his shirt and pulled it on.

  "Sam!" Her face went white. "Don't you dare leave me here like—"

  He held a finger to his lips. "Shhh. You made a deal, Ariel. Now keep it. If you're real quiet, Pete will never know you're here." He pulled the door shut, aware of her distress—and aware of his own regret. But she did fall silent, thank God.

  He closed the door and trotted quickly down the stairs. His brain churned, trying to think of what to say, how to explain Ariel's car in his driveway, how to get rid of his baby brother.

  Pete knocked again, growing impatient.

  "All right already, give it a rest." Sam threw the door open. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

  Pete, looking healthy and happy and in something of a hurry, burst in and said, "I need the keys to Gil's boat."

  "What?"

  His black hair was mussed, his shirt untucked and he had a hickey on his neck. "Gil's out of town, but he said I could use his boat only I don't have a spare key and you do."

  "Gil's out of town?"

  "Yeah. Business—don't you remember? He's been gone all week. Forget that part. Just give me the key."

  Suspicious, Sam leaned around Pete to look out the door. His brother's sporty little Focus was at the curb, still running, and in the passenger seat was a cute blond. "Ah. Big plans?"

  Pete bobbed his eyebrows. "Is she hot or what?"

  Amazed that Pete apparently hadn't even noticed Ariel's car in the drive, Sam went to the kitchen for the spare key to Gil's houseboat. "Yeah, she's cute."

  "Cute? You've gotta be kidding me. She's in my statistics class, smart as hell and sexier than that."

  "And willing?"

  With a sly look, Pete said, "Oh yeah."

  At twenty-two, Pete was a good-looking kid with an athlete's body that had yet to finish filling out, sincere brown eyes, and a sexual drive exclusive to young male animals of the human variety. Sam loved him so much that it sometimes hurt and in the three years since their father's death, he'd felt more responsible for him than ever.

  He held the key out of reach. "You got protection?"

  "No, you wanna loan me a gun?" He grinned.

  Sam didn't take birth control lightly. "You know what I mean, Pete."

  "She's got it covered."

  Scowling, Sam grabbed him by the ear and lifted him to his tiptoes. "She does? How many times do I have to tell you—"

  Laughing and wincing at the same time, Pete pulled a condom from his pocket and waved it under Sam's nose. "Hey, I was teasing, all right! It's covered. Literally."

  Sam turned him loose. "That's it? One?"

  "With three more in the glove box."

  "Then don't exceed four, you hear me?"

  Pete snatched the keys from his hand. "Yeah, four." He held his heart and pretended to stagger. "Four."

  Sam laughed and walked him back to the door. Not for a single moment was he unaware of Ariel upstairs, naked, waiting. "You like them blond, huh?"

  Pete shrugged. "Or brunette or redhead or…"

  "Well, I meant because both she and Ariel are blond."

  "She," Pete emphasized, "is a lot more fun than Ariel ever tried to be."

  Sam's knees locked. "Yeah? How so?"

  "You kidding me? All Ariel could ever say was no, no, and no. No real dates, no kissing, and definitely no sex. Got to where I thought my name was No-Pete."

  Sam's heart gave a heavy thump. "She cut ya cold, huh?" Now why the hell did that thrill him so much?

  "She cut everyone cold, not just me. She told me she was waiting till she got married." Pete rolled his eyes.

  Dropping back against the wall, Sam said, "No shit?" His head started to pound.

  "Yeah, real old-fashioned attitude, right? I think she just liked to lead guys on. You know, like a tease."

  Anger roiled up, making him want to take Pete by the ear again. He didn't, because it shouldn't matter to him what was said about Ariel. But as a big brother, he could say a few general things, and did. "I hope like hell you're not repeating that to anyone but me, because if I hear of it, I'll be royally pissed."

  "I know." Pete winked. "Preserve a woman's honor no matter what. I remember."

  Sam caught his arm. "I mean it, Pete."

  He looked down at the hand holding him with marked confusion. "No sweat. I liked Ariel a lot, still do as a friend. But she made sure it was never more than that, end of story."

  "You were really hung up on her."

  "I thought I was. Gil told me I was suffering lust, not love and I have to admit he was right. But hey, I'm not bitter and I'm not out to trash her." He tipped his head toward the door. "I am out to have a good time tonight though, if this impromptu lecture is over."

  Sam opened his fingers by force of will. "It's over. Just be careful."

  "I'm twenty-two, Sam. Not fifteen."

  "I remember. Make sure you remember it, too."

  Rolling his eyes again, Pete playfully punched him in the ribs—causing Sam considerable pain, which he managed to hide—and then Pete trotted out to his car. Sam propped himself in the doorway, waved to the young lady when she laughed and lifted her hand toward him, and once the car pulled away he closed and locked the door.

  Ariel had wanted to wait till she got married.

  His pulse raced, causing a wild thrumming in his ears. Breath held, he looked up the stairs at that closed bedroom door. Surely to God she wasn't a virgin?

  But even as he thought it, his balls tightened and his blood boiled. He could be her first. That upped the stakes even more, made the temptation nearly impossible to resist. He had a choice to make—take her and give himself a fantasy to last a lifetime.

  Or send her innocent little butt packing while he still could. There was really no choice at all.

  Chapter Four

  Ariel was livid by the time Sam walked into the room. Her wrists were raw from the furious pulling she'd done when she heard Pete spewing such nonsense about her. She hadn't gotten this far with Sam only to have his youngest brother ruin it with exaggerated nonsense.

  Frowning, Sam sat beside her on the bed and caught her arms to hold them still. "Stop that," he said, "you're hurting yourself."

  "That miserable little cretin." She tried to jerk again, but Sam was too strong for her, keeping her immobile. "Who?"

  "Pete, that's who." Ooh, when she got hold of him, she'd box his ears. "I can't believe you let him stand there and say those awful things."

  Sam leaned back, his expression guarded. "You heard?"

  "Every damn word."

  "And you're jealous?"

  "Jealous?" Ariel sputtered at such a ridiculous notion. "I'm furious!"

  Sam's scowl was black enough to straighten her hair. "Because he's taking his new girlfriend out to Gil's boat for some privacy?"

  She gasped so hard, she nearly choked herself. "Don't be an idiot. I couldn't care less who Pete sleeps with, as long as it isn't me. I'm mad that he
stood down there and spoke about me like I was some ice princess or a … a…"

  "Cock tease?"

  Fury rolled through her. "Let me go. Right now."

  Sam scrutinized her. "I don't think so. You look violent."

  Digging her heels into the mattress, she pulled and tugged and thrashed—until she saw Sam holding the key in front of her face.

  "You're destroying my bed."

  Ariel arched her neck, looked upside down at where the chain for the cuffs had gouged the smooth wooden slats of his headboard, and she smiled in evil satisfaction. "Good," she practically spat at him. "I'll tear the whole damn thing apart if you don't unlock me."

  Sounding very put upon, Sam sighed. "I give you two orgasms and all you can do is threaten me."

  That was true enough, so she grudgingly muttered, "Sorry. I do appreciate what you did."

  That made him laugh and shake his head. A second later the key clicked in the lock and the cuffs opened.

  Sam drew her arms down, held her wrists loosely in his hard hands and gently rubbed. "Look what you did. You had enough scrapes and bruises without deliberately adding to them."

  For the first time that night, he sounded calm, completely detached. Ariel got worried.

  "Tell me something, will you, Ariel?"

  Uh-oh. She didn't trust this new mood of his at all. In the time she'd known him, she'd become accustomed to his sarcasm, his sharp wit, his merciless teasing—but never indifference. "What?"

  He snared her gaze with his and wouldn't let her look away. "Are you a virgin?"

  Well damn. She started to pull her hands away but he resisted and Ariel didn't think it was worth a struggle. Silence stretched out, more uncomfortable by the moment. She felt pinned to the mattress with the way his unblinking stare penetrated her confidence. Stalling, hoping for an out, she asked, "Do you mean, like, technically?"

  His eyes narrowed at her avoidance. "Have you ever had intercourse?"

  She squirmed, chewed on her bottom lip. "Well, if you mean—"

  "Sex, Ariel. I mean sex."

  "There's like, sex, in the general term as in touching and—"