against him. “Chance, what are you doing?”
“You cannot break this bond so easily, even with your feelings for another man. Perhaps I have given you too much of a leash, little one.” His voice raked my senses, angry and gritty and full of needs I wasn’t sure I could meet.
“Chance, you can’t…we can’t. I…oh!”
His lips traced a path over my shoulder to my ear, his tongue sucking and licking as he moved. “You can. You will. You are.” His fingers and nails proved cleverer than any other lover I had ever had because in our place he knew exactly how much pressure was just enough. He knew how much would create pain, how much would make me scream. He knew how to make me need.
Unfortunately for him, Chance forgot one major thing. In this place, our place, I had this power too. I tried to rise from the position he held me in, but he kept me there, facing away from him, and yet he breathed so hard. Touching me like that, hearing me breathing, gasping, crying out, killed him. He longed to flip me over and fill me. With all barriers down, with the bond we shared, I could feel what he felt, and I tried desperately to use it against him while I could.
It became a battle. If he could make me come for him, he would have it over me—I could hear his logic as loudly as if he’d spoken his plan out loud. He would have yet another bit of power to use to control me. I had to stop him or stay his equal by making him lose it as well. So I tried the one thing I had left. I grazed my nails on his hip. I needed to make him ache as he made me ache.
“Janie, stop. It won’t work.” And then he flipped me to my back.
I thought I won, and I smiled triumphantly. But my victory last only moments. Before I could assess my new battleground, he went for the kill. With his centuries of experience, he bared all my flesh and took advantage of my vulnerabilities. His thumbs pressed over the tattoos at my hips again in a move that made my head spin and my breath catch in my throat. I arched into him, helpless against his sensual assault.
Then his mouth settled between my legs although I had not seen him move. He covered me with those clever lips and licked and rolled his tongue in a way I didn’t know a man could. All the while, he pushed power and light through his tongue into my body, from his mouth into me. He pushed power into the most sensitive parts of me, and the combination of pure electricity and his tongue generated almost too much sensation. At the same time, his attack left me trembling on the edge of something.
His fingers clenched on my thighs over the tattoos in a synchronized movement with his tongue and he rolled those glass green eyes up to gaze at me. My scream went silent and light itself flowed out of my mouth. His light and my light flowed out and my spine bowed for him. And when I flew into space, shattering into a million pieces, only then did he finally give me the weight of his body, still clad in jeans, to push against me and keep me sane. Still he did not give me what I had begged for—him.
His lips moved against the raging pulse at my throat before trailing upward to stop barely above mine. I lay shaking, quaking, bathed in aftershocks of feeling. His glass green eyes bored into me. “I will win. You will see. You will be mine.”
“Never.” I whispered, but I whispered into his mouth.
He kissed me again as I rocked off the last of the orgasm. The one he had not shared with me. He had used it to tie me to him and he was stronger than I. And now that he had bound us, I would not be able to break the cocoon so easily with a thought of Vance. Fighting Chance would be harder. He had proven he could overpower my resistance and make me acknowledge inherent desire despite what my logical mind demanded.
“Just because of one stinking orgasm?” I muttered into his ear. “What if I had gotten you first? Could I have been the dominant one in this relationship?” But my words lacked force. My hands