Strategic Maneuvers - Jemma Westbrook Page 0,53

He only wanted to make her happy.

Prove he wasn’t like the men he was raised around.

The kind who take without giving.

Expect their money and power to offer certain liberties.

The kind of man who treats everyone as if they are beneath him.

Subservient.

“I will give you anything you want—”

“Obviously not.”

He raked one hand through his hair. How could she not see what this was about? “I do not expect you to be on your knees for anyone, Love. Least of all me.”

Mona’s head tilted to one side. “That’s not what that’s about.”

“I beg to differ.”

“So when you were on your knees for me it meant I was above you?”

She was. In every way.

Mona stepped toward him. “Is that why you did it? To serve me?”

Pierce took a step back. Any answer he had seemed to work against him so he kept his mouth shut.

“No. It wasn’t.” Her eyes narrowed. “That’s why you can’t answer me.”

Two more steps and he was back where he started, the chair creaking as he fell into it, a woman he was not prepared for advancing on him yet again.

“You did it because it pleased you as much as it pleased me.” Mona leaned into him. “Didn’t it?”

He swallowed down the answer that was a lie, once again choosing silence.

“Say you don’t want to feel my mouth.” Her eyes were on his. “Say you don’t want it and I’ll drop it.”

“It’s not a matter of not wanting, Love. It’s a matter of doing what’s right.”

One finger came to trace a path down the center of his nose and over his lips. “Who’s to say what’s right between us?” Her finger slid over his mouth, moving from one corner to the other. “We’re the only two here. I think we should lock everything else out.”

Her lips replaced her finger and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching for her, lacing his fingers in her hair and pulling her against him. Her mouth immediately opened to him, her tongue meeting his.

Her taste. Her smell. It was all more than he could handle.

“You are fucking perfect.” Pierce yanked at the towel keeping her from him, ripping it away from the body he had only just begun to worship. “So damn perfect.” He growled the words against her skin as he cupped one breast, pulling it to his mouth.

Mona grabbed his hair with one hand and yanked him from her. “No.” Her gaze was defiant. “I don’t expect you to serve me.”

“Wha—” He scoffed. “But that’s not—”

“Oh those aren’t my rules.” She gave him a sweet smile that belied the purely wicked thing she was doing. “They’re yours.”

Mona glanced around the space. “So we should probably just go find someplace more comfortable so we can get this over with.”

Did she just suggest—

“What’s wrong, Pierce? You look upset.” The false rounding of her eyes feigned an innocence this woman hadn’t an inch of.

“You are a wicked woman.”

Her smile widened. “Thank you.” The honesty in her response was telling.

He rolled his head from side to side, stretching the tension from his neck. “Fine.” He leaned back in the chair. “Do your worst.”

Mona eyed him for a second.

Then she stood.

An exhale of relief had just left his lungs when she snagged a tie from the line of hooks to his left.

Then she pulled another free.

He lifted a brow as she wrapped one around where his hand rested on the arm of the chair.

“I don’t trust you.” She deftly worked a knot into the silk, binding his arm in place.

“It would seem that way.” Pierce watched as she repeated the process on the other arm. “I could point out that lack of trust is a major concern when developing a relationship.” Mona finished the second knot. He flexed, testing the restraints. “And how did you learn to do this?”

“Zeke taught me.”

“Of course he did.” Pierce met Mona’s cool gaze. “What was his reasoning for why you would need to know this?”

“He taught me to knock a man unconscious and then how to tie him up.” Mona’s smile was small and sly. “So you should be happy I skipped the first step.”

Every minute they spent together she seemed to become more comfortable with him.

With herself.

But it was a double-edged sword.

“You don’t have to do this, Mona.” He had to try one last time to end this ridiculous idea that she had.

“Shut up, Pierce.” Mona went to her knees in front of him. This time there was no towel to buffer the sight.

Pierce gritted his teeth against the image