Page 40 of Resurgent
“All of it?” My voice squeaks, but Liam doesn’t waver.
“All of it,” he says in that stern, take-no-bullshit tone that makes me simultaneously thrilled and terrified. Then he cups my cheek in his hand and adds softly, “All of you.”
Arousal shoots straight to my sex like a flaming arrow seeking its target, but it’s accompanied by a lifetime of fear of letting go, of being vulnerable and giving anyone the power to hurt me. Can I do this? I’m powerless to say no. Some little part of me had wanted to keep a little control over things tonight, but faced with the choice of giving myself wholly to Liam or going back to Charleston, back to my old life with regret, if we even survive…it’s a no-brainer. If I’m really going to be different, if I’m really going to learn to ride the waves and experience the thrill that comes from actuallyliving, I have to stop planting my feet in the sand. And I want this experience with Liam more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
“Okay.”
The smile he gives me could power the entire resort. “Give me your wrists.”
“What?”
“Give me your wrists.” His voice has lowered an octave and has a rasp to it that is doing strange things to my insides.
Oh God. “Um. I…we…maybe we should take this slow?” I stammer.
“Oh, we will.” The way he says it makes me think we’re not talking about the same thing. “Now give me your wrists.”
“I have a better idea. Why don’t we sit on the patio for a few minutes, maybe talk a little…”
I trail off as he closes the distance between us in two steps, his fingers in my hair as he wraps my hair around his hand and tugs, forcing my head back. Distant memories of my dad flash through my mind and I think he’s going to be angry—after all, I’ve just proven I can’t even do the first thing he’s asked me without arguing—but instead he presses his lips to my neck, kissing me softly. “You always think you have a better idea, don’t you?” he says softly.
This is Liam. Not my father, but the man who makes me feel safe, who makes me laugh, who somehow makes me feel empowered with every ounce of control I give up.
“Well, um…mmmmm.” I sigh with pleasure as his lips slowly travel toward my ear. “Idohave pretty good ideas.”
“How are we going to settle this battle for control we seem to have?” His teeth are nibbling on my earlobe now. “Especially since you keep telling me you want to lose it.”
“Ummm.” I can’t think straight with his tongue tracing the outline of my ear.
With my hair still tightly gripped in his hand, he tugs my head back. His eyes are glittering as he says, “Don’t get me wrong, sweetheart. I get horny as hell when you make lists and get all organized and try tocontrol shit, because that’s when you need me to distract you most. To put you to work and quiet your mind. But if you want to dance, then you’re going to have to trust me to lead. You’re going to have to give me all of you. Starting with your wrists.”
I take a deep breath. I can do this.
Wordlessly, I hold my wrists out to him. Sometimes, you just have to dance with the devil, even though you know how it’s going to end.
The smile he gives me would have been enough to convince me if I hadn’t already made up my mind. He pulls a length of soft rope out of his pants pocket and gently pulls my arms behind my back. Holding both of my wrists easily in one hand, he uses the other to wind the rope around my wrists, securing them together tightly without cutting off my circulation, then spins me around again to face him. My breath is suddenly coming in short little pants. I’ve never felt more vulnerable. Or more turned on.
“You just happen to keep rope in your pocket?”
The corners of his eyes crinkle. “No. I told the front desk there was a creaky door I wanted to tie closed.”
I watch as he pulls his knife from its holster at his waist. I think he’s going to lay it on the table, but instead, he slides it under the strap of my sundress and tugs, slicing through the material.
“What are you—?” He cuts the other strap with the slightest flick of his wrist and the dress pools at my feet. “You do realize that was the only dress I have.”
“I’ll buy you a dozen more in Malaysia. Tonight, I want to see what’s mine.”
His?My heart leaps, and my pulse thunders.
He cuts the strap of my bra, and it joins my dress on the floor. I can feel my nipples tighten as the cool air whispers across my now bared breasts.
“Mine,” he repeats. He presses the flat edge of the knife against my hip, and I try not to flinch at the feel of cold steel against my skin as he slowly moves it under the thin lace edge of my thong.
“I said no knives.” My voice is breathless.
For a fraction of a second, I remember the men and the feel of the knife pressed against my throat outside Kenzie’s apartment, but this time the desperation I’m feeling has nothing to do with escaping. As if reading my mind, he whispers, “I’m going to give you a better memory.”
A pull of the blade and my panties are hanging half on and half off, the wetness from my arousal making the thin fabric cling to my sex. He slowly slides the knife across the damp lace, pausing to press the tip lightly against my clit, making it throb. With another tug, the scrap of fabric falls to the floor, leaving me naked.
