Chapter Fifteen #2
The lengths of silky cloth still sat on the bedside table.
I knew I would have to be careful and quick.
Kade was a sound sleeper, but he was also a soldier, whose instincts were attuned to any and every threat.
I secured the first tie quickly, binding his right wrist to the leg of the chair.
His head turned, and he sighed in his sleep.
I fumbled with the second tie, securing his arm to a wooden beam that ran from the floor to the ceiling, next to his chair.
And as his eyes opened, I pulled tight the knot at the same moment he strained violently against it.
He cursed and thrashed against the bindings, so much so that his book fell to the floor.
I stood in front of his chair.
He stared at me warily, his chest heaving from his sudden exertions. “Stella?” he growled softly, his confusion inked to his gruff delivery.
My eyes drank in the hard curves of his sculpted shoulders, the bronzed hue ingrained with the light, puckered imperfections of his many scars.
“Aye, husband. ’Tis me.”
He pulled against his restraints again and contemplated me once more, as though bewildered by the scenario. “What—? What are you about? Untie me. Now.”
“I will untie you,” I responded with coy obedience. “Soon.”
“What do you mean ‘soon’? Release me, I said.”
“I mean to attend to a matter that needs attention.”
“What matter? Untie my wrists, Stella.” His voice was forceful and his anger was easy to detect, but I had to admit a part of me was enjoying this.
I’d never before wielded any kind of power over my rough, brawny husband.
He was always unfailingly in control. Until now.
“Untie me, Stella. Or I’ll make you regret this.
I swear it. You won’t want to get near me. ”
But I did want to get near him. Very near. Nearer than he’d ever allowed.
My gaze met his as I slowly unbuttoned the top of my gown, making a real effort not to lose my nerve.
The thought of what would happen if I failed in my goal emboldened me.
I eased the neckline open to frame my breasts.
My husband regarded me with a look of incredulity, yet it went deeper than that.
His eyes wandered over my skin, and I could feel the intensity of his gaze as a warm, intuitive surge.
“God Almighty, lass,” he whispered, his voice softened by a degree. “You burn my eyes with your loveliness. I may go up in flames any minute.” But then, as though remembering himself as I moved to approach him, his tone turned aggressive again, quietly hoarse: “Keep your distance.”
Distance, however, would not get results.
I placed my hands on his parted knees, pushing them wide so I could kneel between them. Tentatively yet purposefully, I touched my fingers to his thighs, letting them glide against his hair-dusted skin.
He flinched and spread his legs wider, as though to evade my touch. But his movement only succeeded in raising the wool of his kilt a fraction higher, making my task all the easier.
“Don’t touch me,” he said.
He speared me with a look that sent a jolt a fear through me. But the strain of his muscles and the tension in his body were not about anger, nor the rise of his kilt where it covered him. “I am going to touch you, husband. I’m going to take you as you take me.”
“Nay. We will wait until I have made good on my word to you.”
“I’m tired of waiting. I don’t want to wait any longer. I never asked for that oath.”
“Stella,” he warned. “I said a month, and I meant a month, for good reason. You needed that time. I want you to—”
“I do trust you,” I said, leaning closer, letting my hands glide farther up his thighs, pushing his kilt higher. “And I want you.”
He groaned, an unmistakable note of agony in the sound.
“Nay, lass. Not yet. I’ll not agree to it!
” He writhed, and I pulled away as he strained violently against the bindings at his wrists.
But the ties held, and after a moment he calmed, although his breathing was heavy and his eyes were enraged.
“Untie me.” The words were brittle with authority, but I knew what obeying him would cost me, and us both.
But as hurried as I was, I wanted him to agree.
I wanted to break down his barriers. I wanted him to forget his vow, for him to beg me instead of resist me.
I let my fingers ease around his manhood, which was already as large and as engorged as I had ever seen it. “I think you will agree to it, husband. I just need to convince you. Let me try this—”
“Damn it all to hell, lass! I said nay! I’ll not cooperate—”
He exhaled sharply as I squeezed him and cupped him, letting my fingers work nimbly across his rock-hard length, which gave every indication that he was, in fact, ready to cooperate quite fully.
“Stella,” he growled again, yet this growl was laced with the very beginnings of surrender.
Fascinated by the size of him, the hot silken feel of his skin, I played him with my fingers, exploring the heavy weight, the satiny hardness.
“Can I kiss you, husband?” I asked him, more for effect than for actual permission. I intended to do it anyway.
“Absolutely not.” His reply sounded deep and strangled.
“Just one. One kiss.” I leaned to him.
His breath hissed through his clenched teeth as I kissed the broad tip of his immense shaft, licking a small bead of moisture. “Nay,” he snarled. “I can’t—”
“Hush, fierce warrior husband,” I crooned against his skin, aware of the effect the movement of my mouth was having on his limited composure. “Cease your complaints. I haven’t complained nearly so much, and I’m much less experienced.”
“Untie me at once,” he rasped, sounding less forceful than he had only moments ago.
I took him into my mouth, tasting him with my tongue.
“Christ.” He sighed, his head falling back. His body became very still. It was fascinating to me that this big, lethal soldier could be tamed this way. I wanted to use that power, to feed it and explore where it might lead me, and us.