Unravel Me

By: Tori St. Claire


“My room’s upstairs.”

Brad clasped her by the hand, led her up the polished pine staircase, and arched an eyebrow on the landing.

“Left. Right side of the hall.”

There was one door, and he escorted her inside. He closed it behind them with a nudge of his heel. As he unbuttoned his shirt, he nodded at a large, four poster bed positioned across from a stone fireplace. She went without instruction, turned the heavy quilt down, toed-off her heels, and sat on the edge of the mattress.

He tossed his shirt on the footboard. Soft down compressed as he set a knee on the bed. Leaning into her, he guided her to the pillows with the weight of his body. When she was completely supine, her hair spilling out around her shoulders, he straddled her thighs. Those wide compelling eyes held his, no hesitation flickering in their depths. Maybe she did know precisely what she’d meant.

Still, he couldn’t be certain. Asking her to take them away from prying eyes wasn’t exactly like asking her to yield to a total stranger’s desires.

Cupping her breasts, he manipulated her distended nipples with his thumbs until her lashes fluttered and she arched her back. Those damnable teeth sunk into her lower lip again as she fought to stay silent.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured thickly. “I want your hands here.” He gave her breasts a gentle squeeze.

She didn’t flinch as she formed her fingers around his and lifted them into her hands.

At the sight of her soft flesh giving beneath the caress of her hands, Brad bit back a groan. Good God, he wasn’t just in trouble. This beautiful, compliant woman would wreck him before the night was through. He didn’t need this. Couldn’t confront discovering someone who could satisfy cravings he kept buried when he lived half a continent away and his dreams of partnership were in sight. If he had any sense at all, he’d kiss her soundly and excuse himself from the night before he became wrapped up in something that couldn’t go anywhere. Hell, he didn’t even know her name. And she had no intention of sharing it.

But God help him, he couldn’t stop. It had been too long. He’d suffocated his needs for too many years. Pushed them into a dark corner where he meant to forget them.

Beckoned by a force stronger than his will, he slid down her body and dipped the tip of his tongue into her navel. His hands crept to her hips to shimmy her panties down her thighs.





Chapter Four

In ten years of marriage, Cassie had done everything right. She’d played by the rules, become a strong independent woman and a dedicated partner in the law practice she and her husband built straight out of college, he specializing in criminal law, while she focused on family. She’d been a loving wife.

But not once had she ever known passion. Not until this moment, as one sent-from-heaven stranger instructed her to fondle her breasts, and she’d witnessed the gleam of white-hot desire burning in his vivid blue eyes. That ignited fire flared into her, unlocking doors she’d barred, fantasies she’d forgotten, and a yearning to please him that satisfied her own longing to surrender to a man’s will.

He fastened his hands at her hips, pinned her legs in place with his body. His gaze met hers, darkened by arousal. “Ground rules,” he murmured huskily.

Cassie nodded, fighting back the urge to shift her hips, to lift them closer to the breath that whispered across her swollen feminine flesh.

His devilish grin returned as he shifted his weight to one elbow and traced a fingertip over her mound. “It’s okay to ask, but I won’t guarantee I’ll comply.”

She swallowed to clear the cobwebs from her throat. “Anything…else?”

A slight frown touched his forehead. “Have you submitted before?”

“Not…really.” Ugh, this was not the sort of conversation she wanted to have at this moment.

He dipped his mouth and pressed a chaste kiss to the juncture of her thigh. When he lifted his head, he arched an eyebrow. “You said no masks.”

“I did.”

“Then this is me, unmasked.” He paused to trace the sensitive skin with the tip of his tongue. “I’ll try to take it easy on you.”

A shiver snaked down her spine, and she could only manage another weak nod. This was what she wanted. No play-acting, no temporary roles. And she could surrender to him. Because he didn’t know who she was, because she didn’t need to be the confident, always-in-control woman that her profession demanded. Because he posed no threat, and she couldn’t become attached enough to sacrifice her own desires when he’d be gone at dawn.

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