Wildest Hearts

much.”

    “I'm glad.” She wriggled out of her jeans, leaving behind only a triangle of black satin. She took a tentative step toward the bed.

    Oliver caught the faint, tantalizing scent of her arousal. His whole body clenched in response. He dragged his eyes from the black satin panties to her face.

    “Come here,” he ordered, his voice husky with desire.

    She shook her head and put one knee on the bed. She wrapped her palm around the rigid muscle of his upper thigh and squeezed. “Not just yet. We have a long way to go, Oliver. A very long way.”

    “The hell we do.” He reached for her.

    Annie scooted quickly out of the way. “This is my game, remember? I'm the one in charge.”

    He swore under his breath and sprawled reluctantly back against the pillows. “Annie, I can't take much more of this little game of yours.”

    “Really? I'm surprised at you, Oliver.” She got up off the bed and walked over to the black-lacquered chest of drawers. “You're the one who taught me this game.”

    He scowled at the pale, rounded curve of her shoulder and buttocks. “What are you talking about?”

    She turned toward him, holding up two silk ties that she had taken from the drawer. “You've been giving me lessons in this game since the first night you made love to me, although I'll admit you never actually tied me to the bedposts.”

    “Hell.” It finally dawned on him just what she intended to do. He eyed the neckties warily. “You're not serious about this, are you? I thought I was the one with the reputation for being weird.”

    “Don't worry, the neckties are merely symbolic,” she said quickly. “We both know they couldn't hold you. Not if you really wanted to be free.”

    “Look, Annie, I'm willing to play bedroom games, but I think this is taking things a little too far.”

    She walked to the side of the bed and looped one of the ties around his left wrist. “You're not afraid of me, are you, Oliver?”

    His eyes met hers. Surely she didn't think he was actually going to submit to being tied to the bed. Anger flowed through his aroused body. He'd had enough of this crazy game. He was going to rip his hand free of the stupid strip of silk and then he was going to drag Annie down onto the bed. He was going to make love to her until she couldn't even think, let alone dream up bondage games.

    “Oliver?” Annie looked down into his face and hesitated again.

    He saw the new awareness in her eyes. She knew the idiotic game had gone too far. She sensed that he was going to take control once more.

    He was always in control. He had to be in control because he could not trust anyone else.

    But even as Oliver started to twist his hand free, something stopped him. In a disconcerting flash of insight, he realized that this was no game to Annie. She was trying to make him understand something that was very important to her.

    For a few seconds neither of them moved. Then Oliver slowly relaxed against the pillows. “If you want to play games, Annie, go ahead.”

    Her smile was brilliant. “That's another thing I like about you, Oliver, you're willing to play fair.”

    Annie wasted no time. With a few deft movements, she anchored his left wrist to the bedpost. Then she scrambled over the top of him and quickly went to work on his right hand. Oliver closed his eyes and gritted his teeth when he felt the touch of her satin panties against his throbbing erection. It was going to be a long night.

13

    It was a thousand times worse than Oliver had expected. Annie was far from being a skilled courtesan, just the opposite, but her effect on him was devastating. Her somewhat naive but nevertheless passionate assault upon his body constituted a scene straight out of an erotic dream.

    Make that nightmare, he thought ruefully at one point.

    She was all over him, warm and silky and exquisitely female. Her fingers traced the contours of his chest, sending ripples of intense pleasure through him. Then they dipped lower, clenching lightly in the dark, curling hair below his abdomen. When her head bent to follow her questing hand, Oliver experienced an ecstasy that was just short of agony. He held his breath.

    “Annie,” he managed, his voice tight and harsh, “I don't think this is going to work.”

    “How can you say that?” Her breath was tantalizingly warm on his stiff, rigid flesh. “It's working beautifully. Just the way the book said it would.” Her teeth nipped gently.

    Oliver clenched