there is to it.”
Wonderful man. She had nothing to prove to him, because he loved her so well. Proving it to herself was another matter. “I won’t be ruled by instinct.”
“Or any other tyrant?”
He knew her so well. “Yes,” she said, but when he rose and moved to the wardrobe, retrieving two of her long silk kerchiefs, she couldn’t stop the shaking that suddenly overcame her. Heart pounding, she imagined them tightening around her wrists, holding her immobile—
He paused, watching her face. “Yasmeen?”
“Just my legs.” She could bear that more easily than her hands. Even tied to the desk, she could shoot, she could throw a dagger, she could rip and tear. “This first time.”
His jaw tightened. “There won’t be another time.”
Perhaps not. He’d touched her hundreds of times, thousands—but knowing that he would tie her, it took all of her control not to push him away when he sat again and clasped her right ankle, gently drawing her foot toward the desk’s leg. Her ankle touched smooth wood. She trembled.
He closed his eyes, clenched his teeth. “Yasmeen.”
“Do it.”
She had to gasp out the order, then hold herself still when she felt the light tug of silk. He sat back, his expression tormented.
“It’s done.”
And so loosely tied that if she pulled at the bindings even a bit, the knot would fall apart. Yasmeen stared down at the slack loop around her ankle. It was not restraining her at all; to stay bound, she would have to hold her leg immobile. In truth, she was restricted by nothing but her own determination to stay that way.
Perhaps that was for the best, this time. “The other leg now.”
He didn’t move. With a sigh, she slid her left leg toward the corner of the desk, scooting forward so that her ankle would reach. It wasn’t easy. The position spread her wide, stretching the inner muscles of her thighs. She paused at the soft hitch of his breath.
“Christ,” he groaned. The remaining kerchief crumpled in his fist. “Christ, Yasmeen. Look at you.”
She didn’t need to. The roughness of his voice told her, the erection straining at the front of his breeches. Silence fell, and there was only his harsh breathing, the soft vibration of the engines through the desk beneath her, the rapid thrum of her pulse in her ears.
Deliberately, she pressed her ankle to the desk leg. A shiver ran over her skin—not fear this time, though that lurked just beneath the desire.
“Tie me, Archimedes. Please.”
With another groan and trembling hands, he did—the same loose knot that forced her to keep her legs open rather than holding them open for her. His callused palm smoothed up the length of her shin, over her knee.
“Stay still, if you can,” he said. “And lie back.”
Yasmeen didn’t ask why. He’d done this difficult thing for her; she would do this easy thing for him.
As her back met the cool surface of the desk, however, she found it wasn’t so easy. Holding her legs open wasn’t a physical effort, but she’d never been this acutely aware of being exposed. So bare. Was he looking at her? She couldn’t see him to know. Lying as she was, with her head resting almost at the opposite edge of the desk, she could only see the rise of her silk-covered breasts, lifting rhythmically with each shallow breath. She fought the urge to pull free, to close her legs, to regain some sort of certainty.
She froze as a soft caress brushed her knee. His fingers? His lips?
His lips. The warmth of his mouth heated that spot as he said, “Untie your wrap.”
Leaving her more exposed, though the trepidation that accompanied that realization was being swept away by anticipation, by excitement. There was fear here, the need to pull her legs free, that battle against instinct, but it only served to heighten her awareness and every sensation. She yanked her wrap open and pressed her palms flat to the desk beside her hips.
Where was he? A cool whisper of breath against her heated sex told her. A shudder wracked her body and she immediately stiffened, desperately trying to remain still.
“It’s like your zombies,” she panted. That terrifying, wonderful thrill—and she might become as addicted to this feeling as he was. “Oh, sweet lady, help me.”
“This is like a zombie? No. Though I will soon devour you.” His laughing reply was punctuated by a nip to the sensitive tendon at juncture of her inner thigh.
That gentle bite all but devastated her self-control. She