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  My muscles contracted with the touch, my breath coming in little gasps. Then he moved lower still until his fingers found me wet and ready and even the slightest brush of his touch against my clit sent shivers coursing through me and made my body go limp.

  "Not yet," he said, withdrawing his hand with a devious grin, then drawing me to the bed, and easing me down so that I was prone with Tyler looking down at me from above.

  "Lovely," he said. "Now spread your legs. I want to see you open wide for me. Ripe for me. I want to see your body glisten." With deliberate slowness, he slid his hands up my legs, then eased them apart. I closed my eyes, my head turned away, both aroused by his touch and embarrassed by the desire that I knew he could so plainly see.

  "You look delicious," he said, and as he spoke he trailed a finger up my thigh, then over my hip and up the curve of my torso. He lifted my arm, and I felt the brush of his lips as he trailed kisses up it. "I want to touch you, to take you as far as you can go, and I want to make certain that you can't squirm away from the pleasure."

  The cold thing was back, twisting in my gut, and I jerked upright, my eyes flying open as the fear crashed over me.

  But there was nowhere to go. The sash was still around my wrist and though I wasn't sure when he managed it, I was attached quite firmly to the bed. "No." I'd meant to scream the word, but it was only a whisper.

  "No? You came of your own accord, Sloane."

  He reached for my other hand, and I tried to breathe. Tried to be a cop, and not a fourteen-year-old girl. Tried to swim up through this black ocean of fear. But I couldn't. He'd thrown me off center--yanked open the door to the abyss--and I was falling now.

  "You know the rules." His voice undulated, as it filtered through the fear that was pounding in my head. "You had the chance to leave--more chances than I should have given you. And yet you came to my bed, aroused and wanting me."

  "But not this." I forced the words out. "Not this. Dammit, Tyler, let me go."

  I was struggling now, my heart beating wildly. The room that had been bathed in golden light was now as red as blood. As hot as death.

  I could barely see him through the haze, could barely hear him through the maelstrom in my head, the memories, the fear, the pain, all tied up together like some horrible, violent monster that was intent on swallowing me whole.

  "Just relax," he was saying as he began to twist what looked like a curtain sash around my other wrist.

  No, no, goddammit, no!

  I'm not sure how I managed it, not sure how I made my body move the way it did. But somehow I lashed through the pain. Somehow, I caught him across the face, my fist plowing hard against his temple.

  "Goddammit!" His curse was filled with pain, and he reared back, and I took advantage of the movement to thrust my knee up. A one in a million chance, but it worked, and I heard his low, guttural groan as I caught him hard in the balls.

  I tried to bolt off the bed, but my arm was still tied fast to the headboard. And as I tried to steady my breathing--tried to think--I saw Tyler lift his head, and I saw the heat and danger flash wildly in his eyes.

  Before, I'd been afraid of the memories. Now, I was afraid of the man.

  This is it, I thought. Dear god, this is it.

  "Stay away," I snarled. "Just stay the fuck away."

  "Sloane." He said my name and then dropped his head, his body hunched over on the floor beside the bed.

  I twisted, trying to loosen the knot with my free hand.

  "I'm sorry." Regret laced his voice, and when I turned my head and looked at him, the anger I'd seen in his eyes was gone. Instead I saw only tenderness--and endless pools of regret.

  I felt my body sag with relief. "Let me go," I said. "Just let me get the hell out of here."

  "I'm sorry," he said again as he rose slowly to his feet. "I didn't know. I thought you--I didn't know," he repeated, but I didn't understand what he meant.

  He reached for me, and I flinched. He froze, his face as tight and hard as if I'd hit him.

  "I didn't know," he said yet again, and though I still didn't understand, I wasn't about to ask. Right then, I didn't care. I just wanted out of there.

  I felt a tear escape to track down my cheek, and I turned brutally away. "Please," I said. "Just untie me."

  "Of course. Of course, I will."

  He did, and I sat up, feeling fragile and confused. I started to reach for the robe, but he bent to get it before I could, and handed it to me.

  I stood, then shrugged it on.

  "Stay," he said, but I just shook my head. I moved to the living room, feeling a bit like I was in a dream. I didn't see my panties, and I didn't really care. I shimmied into the dress, then tied the halter behind my neck. I was already zipping the back when Tyler came in.

  "Sloane. Please. Don't go."

  But I could only shake my head. I couldn't stay. Not for Candy. Not for Amy. Not even for myself.

  "I'm sorry," I whispered. And then I snatched up my purse and ran barefoot into the hall.

  Chapter Eleven

  I stumbled blindly down the hall, then yanked open the door to the hidden staircase that led down to the ninth floor and the elevator that would take me back to the lobby.

  At each turn I looked behind me, making sure that Tyler wasn't back there. I told myself I didn't want him to follow, and since he apparently wasn't, I also told myself that was a good thing.

  Somehow, though, I didn't believe it.

  The fear was fading now, the memories slipping back into the dark where they belonged. Exhaustion dogged me, physical and emotional. The whole night had been a whirlwind--of fear, of pleasure, of danger and desire.

  In the end, the fear had overshadowed it all, but I couldn't deny that these hours with Tyler had been so much more. More than I had expected. More than just the job.

  He'd taken me to places I'd never been, and I'd felt a heightened desire that I'd never before experienced. But I couldn't stay. I couldn't give him what he wanted.

  I knew damn well that Tyler was dangerous in so many ways, but I didn't fear him in bed. No, it wasn't the man I feared, but the door that he could open. A door that kept the memories and the dark things at bay.

  A door I was determined to keep locked tight, and through which I dreaded even the smallest crack.

  I waited impatiently at the ninth floor elevator bank, shifting my weight from foot to foot until the elevator finally arrived and I could collapse on the fainting couch and bury my face in my hands.

  The ride down was quick, and no one else got on. I wasn't surprised. I didn't know the exact time, but I knew it was very late, and the only people wandering around a hotel at this hour were those, like me, doing a walk of shame.

  I stood as the elevator doors slid open--then immediately sat down again in shock when I saw Tyler standing right there.

  "But--how did you?"

  "Service elevator," he said, then stepped into the car, blocking my exit.

  "I need to get out. I need to--"

  "Sloane." That's it. Just my name, but it was so firm and so vibrant and so full of apology that it sounded to me like a seal of honor.

  I melted a little. "Please, Tyler. I'm tired."

  He nodded to the couch. "Then sit."

  I thought about arguing, but wasn't sure I had the strength. I felt sapped. Exhausted. And I wasn't even entirely certain I was firmly rooted on the planet any more.

  I sat, and as soon as the doors closed behind Tyler, he casually hit the button for the ninth floor, then immediately hit the button to stop the car from moving.

  Only then did he turn to look at me.

  "You should know that I'm a man who takes what he wants," he began, as I looked down at my fingernails. "I always have, and I always will. No regrets, and no exceptions. No exceptions, that is, but one."

  He had my attention, and I lifted my head to find him looking hard at me. "And what is that?"

  "I will never take from a woman what isn't freely given,
no matter how tempting that woman may be."

  "Don't try to pretty it up for me." I kept my voice low and dangerous. "You told me flat out there were things that you wanted in your bed." I met his eyes. "Things you were more than willing to take. And, Tyler, you did try to take them."

  "Yes," he said simply. "And no."

  "I'm tired," I said. "I'm not interested in games or in riddles."

  "Neither am I." He moved toward me, then dropped to his knees so that we were almost eye to eye. "It wasn't me you were afraid of, was it?" he asked gently. "You weren't even seeing me."

  I looked away, not wanting him to see the truth in my eyes.

  "I am so sorry," he said, and I understood that he wasn't apologizing for what had happened between us, but for what had happened to me all those years ago.

  "It doesn't matter."

  "It does," he said. "I thought at first that you--" He cut himself off with a sharp shake of his head. "I thought you were playing the game. A little fear mixed with sex can be an aphrodisiac, Sloane, especially with two people like us."

  I blinked up at him, confused. "Like us?"

  "I don't know you. You don't know me. Not really. And yet I've touched you, so very intimately. You've gone further with me than with anyone, Sloane. We both know it."

  "Yes," I whispered.

  "And I intended to take you further. There's always fear at the precipice. Always terror before you fall off into the unknown." He reached forward, cupped my face in both of his hands. "I thought that's where you were, standing at the edge of something new and terrifying and thrilling--I thought that was where we were." Gently, he used his thumb to brush away an errant tear. "I was wrong."

  He drew his hands away, then stood, moving slowly back to the corner of the car to stand by the doors.

  I drew in a shuddering breath, realizing as I did that I missed the comfort of his hand upon my cheek.

  "Tyler."

  "Wait." He held up a hand. "Let me finish. I meant everything I said to you. And I won't lie to you now. I do want to tie you down. I want the freedom to touch you. I want you completely open to me. I want to look at you, bound to my bed, and have complete power over you. I want you in a position where I could do anything to you. Pain. Pleasure. Even a little fear. But of the moment--of the unknown. Not of me. And certainly not of a ghost from your past."

  My breath hitched and I blinked twice to quell the sting of unshed tears.

  "I want to know that you trust me to know how far to go. That you trust me not to exceed your boundaries. I want that--but I won't push you. Not if you're not ready. Not if you don't want it, too."

  I managed a tiny smile. "The couch? The waiter? Wasn't that pushing me?"

  He simply stared at me. I felt my color rise, because I understood. He hadn't pushed me on that--not really. Instead, he'd seen deep enough inside me to know that I wanted it, too.

  What he was saying now was that he wouldn't push me over the precipice. Not, at least, until I was ready to jump.

  "Stay," he said. "Come back to my room and stay with me tonight."

  I licked my dry lips. "Because you feel bad? Or because you want me?"

  Instead of answering, he turned to the control box and hit the switch to put the car back in motion. Then he came to me and took my hand. He pulled me to my feet, and I didn't even have time to think before his mouth closed gently over mine. The kiss was soft and I thought I might melt simply from the sweetness of it.

  When he pulled back, his eyes were warm. "Because I want you."

  I nodded, breathless, my lips still tingling. "You didn't make me beg for a kiss."

  The corner of his eyes crinkled. "I'll beg if you don't kiss me again."

  "Tempting," I said. "But I'll be kind." I rose onto my tiptoes and brushed a chaste kiss over the corner of his mouth.

  He laughed. "Fuck that," he said, then gripped my shoulders and pressed me back against the wall. I gasped, not expecting the motion, and he closed his mouth brutally over mine. Gone was the sweetness of that first kiss. This was hard and wild and demanding. Teeth and tongue and the violence of possession, the cacophony of passion. Relief swept through me even as wild thoughts clanged about in my head, unable to form into anything more coherent than a vague plea of more, more, oh yes, more.

  We broke apart when the doors opened, and Tyler took my hand, then drew me down the hall to another elevator, this one with a plain metal interior, covered on two sides with moving blankets.

  "It will take us to the service entrance," he said, and I nodded.

  I felt giddy. Light. A small part of me tried to argue that my giddiness was because my operation was back on track, but that was bullshit. This was all about me. About the way he'd made my body tingle and thrum. About the heat he'd sent coursing through me and the way he'd pushed my boundaries. Even to the point of breaking.

  He'd made me feel things I had never experienced, and for better or worse, I wanted to walk with him to that precipice. I wouldn't go over with him--how the hell could I ever trust a man like Tyler Sharp that intimately?--but I could damn sure enjoy the ride.

  I had no idea where this was going, but for this night, I was his. Tomorrow, I would think about the job.

  We were back in the penthouse, moving through the hallway by his office to the living room. Neither of us spoke, and though the silence was a comfortable one, I couldn't deny the flutter of nerves in my stomach. I knew he wouldn't bind me--but beyond that, I didn't have a clue.

  "Tyler?" I began, when I couldn't take it anymore.

  We'd reached the living room, and he paused near the huge window that looked out over Michigan Avenue. "Yes?"

  "What are you going to do with me?"

  His lips twitched. "Nervous?"

  "And excited."

  "I like your honesty, so I'll tell you that I'm planning something we're both going to enjoy." He moved to stand behind me, then pushed me gently forward so that I was closer to the window, and I could see both our reflections in the glass. "I'm going to fuck you, Sloane. Very hard, and very thoroughly." His eyes met mine in the glass. "If that's all right with you?"

  "Yeah," I said breathlessly. "Yeah, I think that'll be just fine." I swallowed, kept my eyes on his. "Is that all?"

  He laughed, and the sound made my smile bloom wide.

  "No," he said. "No, it's not."

  I waited for him to say more, and when he didn't, I frowned. I saw my own brow furrowed in the reflection, and saw his expression grow more amused in turn.

  "Shall I give you a clue?" he asked as the fingertips of his right hand trailed feather light over my arm. The sensation was both sweet and erotic, and it was all I could do not to turn in his arms and claim his mouth with my own.

  "I could entice you with words," he said. "Someday, I want to touch you only with my voice and tease you only with my words. I want to watch as you quiver with longing, as your body goes soft and slick. I want to watch the fire build inside you, and I want to make you explode before I even brush a finger over your skin."

  I trembled, knowing with full and humbling certainty that he could do exactly that.

  "But not tonight," he whispered as he gently brushed his hands over my shoulder blades. "I don't have the strength tonight. Tonight, I need to touch you."

  As if in illustration, he slid his hands forward so that his fingers brushed the edge of my halter. I gasped, then stopped breathing when his hands continued to ease beneath the material and over my bare skin. Then his fingers found my nipples, hard and tight and so damn sensitive. "Yes," I breathed. "Oh, god, yes."

  He pinched my nipple, and I gasped as hot wires of pleasure shot from my breast all the way down to my sex.

  I had to bite my lower lip as I watched our reflection in the window, and the image of us standing like that--of his fingers inside my clothes, of me leaning back against him, of the soft and sensual expression on my face--just about pushed me over the edge.

  His fingers paused in their magic, and I almo
st sobbed in protest as he pulled his hands away, leaving my flesh cool and bereft in the wake of his touch.

  "You like this," he said as he untied my halter, then unzipped the dress. It fell to the ground, leaving me completely bare. "You're like a goddess in the window, bathed in golden light. Does it excite you, knowing that someone might be looking in? Might be across the street looking out their window? Might see how lovely you are?"

  I didn't answer, but it didn't matter. His hand slipped down to dip between my legs. "Yes," he murmured, finding me wet. "Yes, I think it does," he said as he trailed the fingers of his other hand over hips, my waist, my breasts.

  I closed my eyes, reveling in the feel of him.

  "You're too beautiful to hide away," he said, "but I'm the only one who gets to touch you."

  "Yes," I murmured. "Now. Please I need you to touch me now."

  Without a word, he moved around me so that his back was to the window. He knelt in front of me, his hands on my thighs, his thumbs achingly close to my sex. Slowly, he eased my legs apart, and I felt the cool, sweet air.

  "I will always give you what you need," Tyler said, then pressed a soft kiss on my pubis before rising, his hands following the movement of his body so that when he brushed his lips over my cheek, his hands gently cupped my breasts.

  "Close your eyes," he said, and I did, then lost myself in pleasure as he touched me everywhere, a series of strokes and kisses and caresses teasing every inch of me until my body was so aroused I wasn't sure I could take it anymore.

  Finally--oh, thank god, finally--he took hold of my hips and slid his tongue over my clit, teasing and playing as I tried to writhe in time with the pleasure but couldn't--he was holding too tight, concentrating the delight on that one perfect point.

  My knees went weak, and I had to reach out, one hand clutching the wall and the other his hair, as he took me closer and closer to the edge and then--when I didn't think I could stand it any longer--the world exploded around me. A firestorm engulfed me--and I lost myself to the desperately erotic sensation of Tyler's mouth against me, of his hands upon me, of his arms around me.

  He was carrying me, and I snuggled close, suddenly spent.

  Gently, he took me through the penthouse, then laid me in his bed. He stood at the side, and then slowly toed off his shoes and unbuttoned his slacks. He wore briefs, and I could see the bulge of his erection behind the gray material. He stripped those off, too, and I found myself staring at the most perfect male I had ever seen.