A Werewolf to Call Her Own (Mystic Isle, Book 2) by Selena Blake Page A

sex resort.”
    “You… you want to be tied up?” The words rumbled out of him, confusion lacing his tone.
    Confidence.
    Looping one end through the D-ring attached to the wall, she folded over the tab and gave the strap a tug. The taut material tugged the metal ring but neither gave. Good. While her vampire strength made her stronger than a human, she doubted her muscle mass was a match for his. She’d just have to trust him to play along.
    Trust him… ha.
    “Not hardly.” She reached for his wrist. “These are for you.”
    His shocked expression would have made her laugh if she weren’t concentrating on restraining his wrist. The second it was done, she snatched up the other restraint and skirted the bed. She had it attached to the other D-ring before he spoke again.
    “You can’t tie me up.”
    “I can, actually.” She felt the power of those words down to her toes. No more would she be a victim. A weakling simply following orders. Her parents had told her how special she was, how careful she needed to be. She hadn’t listened, but they were right about that. She should have been more careful with her heart.
    “You want me to fix your little problem, don’t you?” She couldn’t help her teasing tone. He truly was crazy if he thought she could put a spell on him. Crazy and gorgeous and blatantly nude.
    His jaws ground together for a moment and he didn’t look at her. “Yes.”
    “Then this is how it has to happen.” She would prove he didn’t have any such affliction and be on her way. But she was not touching him more than she had to. She could not risk losing herself in his heat, the feel of his hands on her body, his hardness inside her.
    Luckily, she’d never had a problem being clinical. And he’d never had a problem coming.
    The skirt and corset made it hard to be flexible, but there was no going back. She stood at the end of the bed, surveying the gorgeous, lean hunk of perfection.
    “Why?” he asked, jerking on the restraints. She gave him a behave look.
    “Why what?”
    His cock was hard as a rock, jutting up over his abs. She thought about performing a striptease, that way she didn’t have to touch him at all. But now wasn’t the time to try to find her inner vixen. He was everything she remembered and more. So long as he held still, she just needed to stroke him and -- and put her mouth on --
    “Why does it have to happen like this?”
    His knuckles were turning white around the straps. Was he that upset about being tied to a few flimsy rings? Or was he holding on to his orgasm?
    Perhaps this was all some scheme to get her to fall into bed with him. Make her feel sorry for him so she’d sleep with him.
    No. That wasn’t it. He’d been angry, aggressive, but not sleazy. And he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would have sex with him again. She hadn’t exactly played hard to get the last time.
    The memory of her eagerness embarrassed her so she fueled it back into her performance. That’s all this was. A play. She, the award-winning actress proving the bad boy wrong.
    “Oh.” She pulled the skirt up until it cleared her knees, and then she crawled onto the bed between his legs. Trailing her hands up his thighs, she zeroed in on her target and licked her lips.
    He moaned, just as Avery had said he would.
    “Well, I need to prove a point. And I can’t stand the thought of you touching me.” Her body made a liar of her, but he couldn’t know that. Better he think she was simply a cold-hearted vixen proving her point than know the truth.
    He’d been so tender with her when she needed him to be. Touched her so sweetly. Proven himself to be an incredible lover. But after the things he’d said, the coolness of his attitude, the way anger and pain shimmered off him… she could give him this. And then they would be even. “So, here we are.”
    She wasn’t sure if he gasped at her words or the feel of her hands getting closer to his cock. So warm . Closing her hands