Free Unholy Promises by Roxy Harte Page A

have said. I was left feeling so … naïve. I consciously forced my eyes to be less wide, willed my lips silent.
    His kiss took me by surprise.
    The force of his hand behind my neck held me steady as I initially resisted, forcing my lips to stay connected; but then, I tasted him, smelled his scent, and relaxed into his hold. Only then did his mouth fully possess me, tongue probing, exploring, promising.
    When the kiss ended, I wanted more and I tried to go in for another, but his hand, still in control of my neck, kept that from happening.
    “Tell me what you want,” he commanded sternly.
    “You,” I whispered, barely breathing. I couldn’t think of anything more intelligent to say, seeming to be caught in a spell I couldn’t break free from his grasp, not from his soul-delving eyes or his molten-lava voice. I whispered the secret desire, “Tie me up.”
    He smiled a small smile of agreement and there was something so incredibly sensual in the moment, an electric field building between us, binding us, drawing us closer together. It seemed we were no longer strangers, but soul mates linked by our darkest secrets, our most dangerous desires.
    Arousal thrashed uninhibited through my veins, making me feel languid, but not drugged, though it was his hand on my elbow, navigating the corridor, leading me to the next playroom, because I could barely walk on my own.
    He closed leather cuffs around my wrists, before stretching my arms high above my head, my limbs at the mercy of a motorized heavy chain. Nothing breaks; I am relived when the motor stops humming. I am stretched uncomfortably taut but not broken.
    I am aware that I am naked, but have little recollection of coming into that state of being.
    Luka must have helped me remove the dress, I don’t remember.
    I remember the electric current binding us; the heat of him, like flames, searing me, even though his body wasn’t touching mine. He was being very careful not to touch me and I ached for that touch, needed to feel his searing hands blaze against my skin.
    Our soundproof room had an observation window just like the one we had watched the other couple through and I caught a glimpse of Matilda standing outside, watching. I felt safer, knowing someone was indeed watching. Ridiculously, she smiled and waved.
    Naked, bound and stretched notwithstanding, I smiled in return, not the slightest bit embarrassed, but thinking that I should be embarrassed.
    So surrounded as I was by the intensity of him, there was no room for embarrassment. All I felt was him, his presence, his heat coursing through me, around me. I could tell where his chest, his arms, his legs were just by the heat of him moving around me, close but not touching heat.
    From behind, I felt the brush of his knuckles along the back of my shoulder, felt his breath on the back of my neck. My entire body ached, begging for his touch. As if reading my mind, he stood before me, tilted his head as if to kiss me, so close but not touching. My lips suddenly so needy, so desperate to feel his lips that I arched and made a small mewing sound. My loss of control became an aphrodisiac, shooting a body-spasming shiver down my spine, through my soul, and straight to my groin. I was so wet, I felt it happen, it was almost like I’d pissed myself a little, the inside of my thighs were so wet.
    I was desperate for his lips to close over mine, but I didn’t beg.
    My body spasmed again, jerking a little in my chains, so desperate my flesh had become to feel his touch. It seemed too much to bear, the aching need painful, the mental burden of wanting him to be strong enough to control me, not just physically but mentally and emotionally as well, that I began shaking uncontrollably. Closing my eyes, I stepped inside myself, willing myself to disconnect from his heat before I agreed to something I would regret.
    Yes, I was thinking too much then. Worrying that I’d jeopardized my nation’s security. After all, I didn’t know this