Free Make Me Risk It by Beth Kery

She broke off when he lunged toward her, and suddenly she was crushed against his chest, his arms around her. Her face clenched when she absorbed his familiar scent. His hand delved into her hair, cupping her skull. She shuddered with emotion.
    “If you’re sick, what am I for wanting to do it to you?” he mumbled gruffly against her forehead. He pressed his lips against her skin, and she sensed his urgency. “It’s not the same, though, Harper. Is it?”
    “No,” she replied emphatically, hating the doubt that tinged his tone. “You never hurt me, you only make me feel . . . so
much
. I don’t want to be ashamed of it. I don’t want men like Clint Jefferies or . . .
anyone
who’s cruel and heartless and evil to make me ashamed of it. You’re not those things. You take what you want in bed, but you’re
not
selfish. I don’t know how you do that. You’re just . . .
you
.”
    He rolled her back against the pillow and came over her, his face hovering above hers. He pressed close, and she could feel that he wore a pair of thin cotton pajama bottoms. His heat emanated into her skin. His groin pressed against her outer thigh. He was growing hard. His features looked shadowed. She was very confused at that moment, and yet she wondered if she’d ever seen him so clearly.
    “And you’re
you
. Harper McFadden,” he mouthed the two words, barely making a sound but saying the two words emphatically, nevertheless. She held her breath at something she sensed in him, some unfurling power. “Do you know why I like to bind you and have you at my mercy?”
    “Because you’re a sexual dominant?”
    “Maybe. Partly.” He leaned down until their lips were less than an inch apart. “But mostly because of Harper McFadden.”
    “What?” she asked, confused.
    “Mostly because that’s my fantasy,” he continued, his voice low but brimming with fierce emotion. He shifted his hips and pressed his cock tighter against her. “To have you. To keep you. To know that at least for a short period of time, no one and nothing will take you from me. To know for a
fact
that you’re one hundred percent mine . . . no matter what.
Are
you mine right now, Harper?”
    Her lips parted in aroused disbelief at his stark adamancy. She’d thought that his revelation about Regina and Clint Jefferies, and Jacob’s and her subsequent admissions of their conflict about their sexual preferences, would dampen their ardor. If anything, it seemed to have amplified their need. She was confused by his intensity, but what he’d just confessed had struck her like a whiplash of honesty, cutting straight through everything else.
    “Yes
. Completely yours, Jacob.”
    He swept down on her, taking her mouth in unapologetic hunger. The heat that swept through her was familiar, but stronger now, more dangerous than ever before. He abruptly ended their kiss and shifted his weight, straddling her. He straightened his back. Her pulse leapt at her throat when she saw his grim, determined expression. Holding her gaze, he reached for the hem of her nightgown. He drew it up over her belly and above her breasts. He examined what he’d revealed. Her skin prickled beneath his heavy stare. Lifting his pelvis off her slightly, he cradled her hip in his large hand. His thumb reached down to the top of her mons. He rubbed her skin, but he stroked something deep inside her, making her vibrate subtly with mounting emotion. “Mine,” he declared thickly, and she felt the storm building in him. He was about to rattle her world. He already was.
    “All mine,” he repeated as if to himself before he grabbed her wrists and drew her arms above her head. He pressed her hands into the pillows.
    She panted softly, looking up at his large, shadowed form. Whatever she experienced at that moment, it was complex, sharp . . . overwhelming. He brushed his fingertips softly against her sides, making her breath hitch and her nipples draw tight.
    “I want to tie you up