Flirting with Disaster Part 34

Her eyes flew open wide, and she jerked her hands away. "Are you crazy?"

Slowly, deliberately, he took her by the wrists again, then wrapped her fingers around the spindles. She s.n.a.t.c.hed her hands away again. "Will you cut it out?"

He sighed, shaking his head. Standing up, he walked over to the draperies, reached for something behind them, and gave it a hard yank. When he turned around, she saw a cord dangling from his hand. He closed his fingers around it and ran it through his palm a couple of times. Lisa's heart jolted as if a thousand-watt current had shot right through it.

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

She sat up. "This is silly."

He strode back across the room, every step he took feeling to Lisa as if a gale-force wind were blowing her down to her back all over again. She stared up at him, swallowing hard.

"What's it going to be, Lisa? My way?" He nodded down at the cord. "Or this way?"

"Well, now," she said, trying to keep her voice light. "You've never struck me as the kinky type."

"Nothing kinky about it. It's simply a battle I intend to win."

Her breath was coming faster. She couldn't seem to control it. No matter how hard she concentrated, still she was breathing faster. He sat down on the bed beside her, rested his palm against her hip, leaned in, and kissed her neck.

"What if I scream?" she said.

His breath tickled her ear. "The damsel in distress thing really isn't your style."

"Maybe not, but I'm betting it's effective."

He eased his lips along the column of her throat. "Nah, I don't think you'll scream. See, there's this little matter of keeping our presence here a secret. This is not the time to draw attention to ourselves."

"We're out in the middle of nowhere."

"Then screaming won't do you any good, will it?"

He moved his lips over her collarbone, his voice humming against her, sending shivers all the way to her toes.

"Forget screaming," she said. "I've got a pair of knees, and I'm not afraid to use them."

He stood up quickly, grabbed the bedspread, and pulled it hard around her legs. Still standing, he put his knee down on top of it, until her legs were trapped like a b.u.t.terfly inside a coc.o.o.n. She squirmed against him.

"I'm tougher than I look," she warned. "You might have a fight on your hands."

"A fight?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "Now, I do love a good fight."

"No way. You're one of the good guys, Dave. Calm, cool, and sensible."

"Maybe not."

"Oh, really? That's the Dave I know. What's changed?"

"You came back into my life." He stared down at her, his expression charged with emotion. "And that changed everything."

Lisa felt a fundamental shift at that moment, as if that gale-force wind had whipped around and smacked her flat on her back all over again. A few minutes ago he'd asked her where this was going between them. She still had no answer for that, but she had the most uncanny feeling that she was on the verge of finding out.

With her legs still wrapped tightly in the covers, Dave sat down beside her, made a slipknot in the cord, then reached for her wrist. She yanked it away.

"Oh, all right right." She circled her fingers around the spindles of the headboard, which gave her the most heart-thumping feeling of having her body completely exposed.

"Now," he said, "no matter what happens, do not not let go." let go."

"If I do?"

"It's back to Plan A. And G.o.d only knows when I'll let you go then."

She believed him. Every word. She flexed her fingers against the spindles, telling herself that it was no big deal, really. That she could let go anytime she wanted to.

"This is really dumb," she told him.

"But no problem for you, right?"

"Of course not. Well, aside from the fact that the man I'm sleeping with appears to have some deep-seated bondage fantasies he's just dying to play out. I admit I find that a little distressing."

With a tiny smile, he rose and slowly pulled the bedspread away from her, his gaze trained on her body the whole time.

"The light," she said. "Turn out the light."

"Oh, no," he said, tossing the covers into a heap on the floor. "I've got a really nice view here. Why would I want to mess it up?"

Her heart quickened as she waited for him to touch her, kiss her, or do whatever he had in mind that she couldn't fathom. Instead he went to Sera's dresser and thumbed through the drawers.

"What the h.e.l.l are you doing?" she asked.

"New rule," he told her, still fishing through the drawer. "I don't mind you talking. But reprimanding isn't allowed."

He'd gone off the deep end. That was the only explanation. Most people got dysentery when they drank Mexican water. Dave turned into a s.e.xual deviant.

"Ah. Here we go." He closed the drawer and turned around, and she was surprised to see him holding a pair of scissors.

"What do you intend to do with those?" she asked.

He sat down beside her, opened the jaws of the scissors, and slid them over the hem of her shirt.

"What are you doing doing?" she said, squirming away from him. "You'll ruin my shirt!"

"I've got no choice. See, you can't let go of that headboard."

"I don't believe this."

"Don't worry. I'll buy you a new shirt. Maybe a couple of new ones. Of course, I'll be the one picking them out." He paused, staring at her. "And you know, now that I think about it . . ."

He placed the scissors on the bed next to her, then hooked his finger into the scoop neck of her T-shirt and slowly pulled it down until it met her cleavage, his finger teasing her skin lightly all the way down. "I think it should be a little lower here."

He considered that for a moment, then pa.s.sed both hands slowly but firmly over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, pulling the fabric snug against them. "And maybe a little tighter here."

Lisa quivered at his touch, her nipples tightening in the wake of his hands. He held the fabric taut and stared down at her.

"Dave. Come on. This is silly."

"Don't interrupt. I've got a nice fantasy going here."

As he mulled that over for an eon or so, her nipples grew more erect with each pa.s.sing second. He was going to stare at them forever. Boldly. Blatantly. And for some reason, that made her feel hot as h.e.l.l and more exposed than if she were naked.

"I think," he said, in that maddening contemplative voice, "that I'm going to slip into that store dressing room with you when you're wearing one of those tight little low-cut shirts."

"Men aren't allowed."

"I'll bribe the salesgirl." He slid his hands along the sides of her rib cage until they reached her waist. "I'm going to turn you around to face the mirror." He slipped his fingertips beneath the hem of her shirt, meeting bare skin. "Then I'm going to stand behind you, put my arms around you, and slide that stretchy little shirt up until I get a really good look at what's under it."

He moved his hands up, taking her shirt along with it. It tripped over her nipples before finally gliding away to reveal her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Lisa's heart leapt.

"You're going to buy me shirts just so you can take them off me?"

"Mmm. It sounds even better when you say it."

Dave stared down at her with total appreciation, his gaze lingering. And lingering. And lingering lingering.

"Dave?"

"Sorry. I was just thinking what a beautiful sight this would be in a three-way mirror."

Lisa felt a sharp tingle between her legs. She flexed her hands against the spindles, her back arching almost involuntarily, desperately wanting him to do something something besides stare at her. besides stare at her.

Touch me. Please. Your hands. Your mouth. Anything. Everything.

Slowly he lowered his head.

Yes. Yes!

He placed a gentle kiss between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She waited, waited. . . .

He rose again, pulling the shirt back down to her waist.

"Wh-what are you doing?" she asked, a little breathless.

He picked up the scissors.

Yes. Cut it off. Get rid of it. And do it quickly.

She closed her eyes as he parted the scissors at the hem of her shirt again, but quickly quickly didn't appear to be a word in his vocabulary this evening. He cut as if he had all night to do it, forcing Lisa to endure the steady didn't appear to be a word in his vocabulary this evening. He cut as if he had all night to do it, forcing Lisa to endure the steady snip, snip, snip snip, snip, snip of the scissors as they slit her shirt, along with the feeling of the cold, hard steel inching its way along the skin from her navel to her neck. of the scissors as they slit her shirt, along with the feeling of the cold, hard steel inching its way along the skin from her navel to her neck.

Dave reached for the neckline of the shirt and gave it a final clip, then performed the same slow, maddening cutting action along both sleeves. Finally he laid the scissors down, grasped the shirt, and pulled it away from her body. Tossing the tattered remains aside, he stared at her naked b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Just stared, long and hard, until Lisa thought she was going to go crazy.

"Now it's your turn," she told him, flexing her fingers against the spindles.

"Excuse me?"

"Your shirt. Off."

He looked at her admonishingly. "I'm sorry, Lisa. You're in no position to demand anything."

"Okay then, how about I reach up there and rip it off you?"

"That would require you to let go of that headboard, and I told you already . . . I wouldn't advise that."

He curled his hand around her rib cage, kissing the upper swell of her breast once, twice, moving at such a leisurely pace that she wanted to scream at him to get on with it. He moved up to kiss the base of her throat, then the side of her neck.

"But if you'd like to ask instead of demand," he said, "I'll take your request under consideration."

"Now I'm an impolite impolite control freak?" control freak?"

He gave her a tiny knowing smile. Tightening his hand along her rib cage, he flicked his tongue against her earlobe, then nipped it gently. Suddenly her jeans felt way too tight, way too confining. She could actually feel the area between her legs growing hot and swollen. And d.a.m.n it, if it took a private consultation with Miss Manners she was determined to get him out of that shirt.

She turned her head and whispered against his cheek, "I'd like it very much if you took your shirt off."

He backed away and stood up, unb.u.t.toning his shirt and taking it off, and not getting in any hurry at all to do it. Finally he tossed it down, and one word formed in her mind: wow. wow. She could live to be a thousand and never get enough of looking at him. And touching him. Which she was dying to do right now. She could live to be a thousand and never get enough of looking at him. And touching him. Which she was dying to do right now.

"I can do all sorts of things with my hands," she told him, easing her voice down into the provocative range. "You might be interested in some of them."

"Thank you for your input. I'll take that under advis.e.m.e.nt."

He circled around to the foot of the bed. His gaze traveled the length of her body, from her feet to her head and all the way back down. That staring again.

"Dave, I'm starting to feel a little silly here. Can we get on with it?"

He shook his head sadly. "You're an impatient person, Lisa. A minor character flaw, but a flaw just the same. You need to work on that."

She exhaled with frustration. Right. Right. And he seemed to be more than willing to give her all the "hands-off " training she needed. And he seemed to be more than willing to give her all the "hands-off " training she needed.

Finally he took hold of her ankles, and after a lengthy caress he pushed them apart. He rested his knee on the bed between her thighs, dropped a palm on either side of her hips and leaned over her, the muscles of his shoulders and arms standing out in sharp relief. He pressed a kiss just above her navel, sending a thrilling little shudder shooting right up her spine. Rising again, he unfastened the b.u.t.tons of her jeans, stopping after each one to tease a fingertip over any newly bared skin.

Yes. Now we're getting down to it.

Once the last b.u.t.ton was undone, he slid his hands all the way from her hips to her calves, finally catching the legs of her jeans near her ankles and pulling.

"Maybe you'd better help a little," he said. "Which is not not permission to let go." permission to let go."

"Then how . . ."

He waited patiently.