He let out a deep, troubled sigh. “In prison, that's what I thought you were. For a while. Until I began dreaming about you.” His gaze focused on her eyes. She couldn't look away from his wistfulness.
Michael continued. “I wanted to kill you. At first. Before I realised you had mistakenly acted on what you had seen. Then all I wanted was to spite you. To rip your clothes off, and drive my cock deep inside you."
His mood changed swiftly, almost as fast as she could blink. Fascinated by the anger duelling with an emotion she could only call passion in his eyes, she stared as he pressed his lips together. His shoulders tensed. Then, as if he decided the aggravation wasn't worth the trouble, he relaxed as easily as if he had taken a deep breath.
Captivated by his gaze, she didn't struggle as he lifted her hands and pinned them above her head in a strong grip. With his free hand, he tugged on the thin material of her dress at her left shoulder. The dress loosened across her breasts.
From somewhere deep within her, she found the strength to attempt to edge out from underneath him. He was far too heavy for her to dislodge.
"Don't do this to me,” she implored. Every part of her being begged for his heated, masculine touch. His erection strained against her clamped together thighs. His contact with her skin made desires she had repressed for years stir to life, reminding her of forbidden passion.
"Don't do this to yourself, Nicole. Don't fight yourself. You want me. You know it."
She bit her lower lip, urging herself to silence. What was the point of reasoning with him? He wouldn't hear what she had to say. Instead, she shook her head. Why would she fight herself?
"I think you want me to, sweetheart. You want me so badly you can't wait to feel my cock inside you.” He leaned over and brushed his lips across her forehead, then lower, nuzzling her cheek. She felt her belly stir as his damp lips trailed along her neck.
"No,” came out as a tortured moan. Incredibly, her nipples turned into hard peaks and moisture seeped from that intimate place between her legs. She didn't want him. She couldn't want him. He was a convicted murderer.
"But you do. If I reached between your legs, you'd be wet for me, wouldn't you?"
She moved her head side to side, unable to see his face. No woman in her right mind made love to a man she had testified against. How many years had she juggled with wanting this man so badly yet knowing she could never again have him? That her conscience wouldn't allow her to make love to him, and, quite likely, he wouldn't have wanted to love her as she yearned? Of course, she would never tell him.
He snorted. “Did you get turned on when I was led away in handcuffs the day the verdict was handed down?"
She drifted back in time, to the courtroom as hushed whispers erupted at the guilty ruling. She couldn't help herself. She had stared at the back of his head, wanting to turn back the clocks to the day before he had murdered his father, to erase the evil he had unleashed. When he had turned around as the bailiff approached him, her heart had shattered into tiny pieces. His face appeared haggard and his short hair had been dishevelled. But the look in his eyes, a deep hurt, had stabbed her to her very core. He'd grimaced before he had turned away at the bailiff's instructions. That had been the last time she had seen him.
In the limousine, Michael went on. “I try not to be angry any more. What's done is done. I had plenty of time in prison to dream about you. Erotic, sinful dreams.” A look of tired sadness passed across his features. “When I fantasised about you, you were naked, your hands chained above your pretty head. When I wanted to, I'd come and pleasure myself on you while you begged for mercy because that's all you lived for. My cock filling your wet cunt."
Nicole whimpered. Once, she would have enjoyed submitting to his will. Now she dreaded the notion.
"You're going to fulfil each one of those dreams, however I want. We're going to go back to the way we used to be before you decided you didn't want me, and cast me away."
"I didn't cast you away,” she managed.
His eyebrows notched up. “Was there someone else, Nicole? Is that why you got rid of me?"
Mutely, horrified at the notion she could place an innocent man in prison simply to be rid of him, she shook her head.
"I could think nothing but that your actions were spiteful. But I still don't know why. Was there another man?"
"There was never anyone but you, James,” she whispered, plummeting to the depths of misery.
His eyes narrowed in anger. “Don't call me that. I have a new name. A new life. Deal with it."
"I don't care what you have."
"Listen, Nicole. I'm not giving you a choice. You will become my wife. Mrs Michael Karlisi. Just like we planned before you decided to put me in prison."
To her horror, she did nothing. She wanted to escape his unwelcome plans, but her body refused to move. Her mind fogged into a sexually-induced haze. Why couldn't he grind his hips against hers? Give her pleasure, instead of torturing her mind with the past she could do nothing to change?
"Remember that day, before our world came to an end?"
The unwanted memories resurfaced. Darkness, dappled with brilliant sunshine, rose over her, holding her in a suffocating grip.
The afternoon they had returned from the lake, they had arrived at his house, more like a mansion with more bedrooms and bathrooms than she could count. She had gone upstairs to wash up and when she had returned, she had found Michael in his father's study. To her revulsion, blood dripped from the butcher's knife he gripped tightly in one hand. His eyes were glazed over with horror and grief. His father lay dead on the Persian carpet. She had run for her life, disbelieving what she had seen, terrified he would come after her and kill her too for witnessing the aftermath of the brutal crime.
"You wanted me to tie your wrists together and make love to you. Do you remember?"
Against her will, she remembered. A blush heated her cheeks.
Michael burst into laughter. “Have you changed your adventurous bedroom tastes, sweetheart? Would you dream of asking Brad to do those kinds of things now?” Abruptly, he turned serious. “I think I know what you would say. As long as that lover wasn't me?” He sounded angry.
"Prison doesn't improve men. I would never go back to having a man, any man, do wild, crazy things to me.” Like tie her up and spread her legs apart so he could taste her. “I've changed. I don't do that kind of thing anymore."
Michael frowned. “You don't? Why does your pulse increase when I tell you I want to do these things?"
She glanced away, realising his palm rested against her wrist where he could feel her heart thrum through her veins. Swallowing hard, she murmured, “I'm not one of those women who says no but means yes."
"You need to come to terms with your dishonesty."
"I'm telling you the truth,” she retorted. All she wanted was a man to hold her, to love her until the night turned into day—as James had once, long ago.
He pursed his lips. “When I was in prison, I would spend all day on my bunk thinking about you in your skimpy bathing suit, the rise of your breasts, the swell of your hips and how that scrap of material did little to cover your thick bush. Is it still thick like that or do you shave for that loser?"
Nicole spluttered with outrage. “It's none of your goddamn business what I do with my body."
"I'm making it my business, sweetheart. As your husband, I want to know what you do every minute of your waking day. It's my right to know."
If her hands had been free, she would have choked the life out of him. “You're a pig! And don't think for one second I'll marry you."
Once again he kissed her cheek, darting his tongue out to lick the soft skin. “I loved it when you didn't shave around your pussy, when those dark hairs peeked out from your crotch. Now, you've curved out too. My dreams are about to come true. I want to see you naked, bared for my pleasure.” He grinned.
"Don't you dare touch me."
"I already am, and it only takes a second to ge
t rid of that dress."
Nicole squirmed under his piercing gaze. She didn't want him to witness how vulnerable she was. Stripping her would bare not only her body but her soul. She couldn't let him see how his presence affected her. Heat roared through her veins and into her ears. She had always wanted James’ hands all over her, his eyes fixed on her breasts, or her pussy, although he had once liked her ass too.
"Don't lie to yourself, Nicole.” He drew back to gaze into her face. “Every morning when I awoke on that hard cot in that bare cell, I could smell the lemon fragrance in your hair, taste the tangy cinnamon on your lips. I yearned for only one thing. To get out and hold you against my chest and hear you say you love me."
"You're crazy if you think that will happen any time soon!” She tugged on her imprisoned hands, wishing she could lash out at him for voicing the erotic dreams that were so similar to her own. Once, she could have said she had dreamed of him in the same way but she had blocked out thoughts of him. They had only been driven by teenage hormones anyway.
Her breasts brushed against the silky material of his jacket.
"Nicole, I'm going to say it again. I'm not giving you a choice. Please believe me when I say I've forgiven you your ignorance. I told Colin as much. You made a mistake and, ultimately, you're the one who has to live with it."
"I didn't make a mistake. You're guilty as hell."
"I want you to remember that I'm in control till death do us part."
Before she could say anything, he tore the dress from her body, exposing her breasts to his eyes. She moaned. Cool air passed over her stomach and over her mound. This couldn't be happening. This madness—for what else could it be?—was what she enjoyed. Wasn't that why she had fallen in love with James? Because he had physical strength, confidence in himself and in his ability to charm her to do anything for him?
The limousine came to a smooth stop. Looking out of the window, he murmured, “Now for the rest of this.” Without a second thought, he ripped her thong panties away. An appreciative smile lit his lips. “Your bush is so thick.” He trailed a finger through the dark curls, down to the apex of her thighs.
Nicole clamped her legs together tightly, hoping he wouldn't edge her legs apart and swirl a finger around her moist clit and into her weeping sheath. Then there would be no denying that she wanted him. Why did her body say one thing but her mind another? Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt his index finger trace a thin line down her upper thigh. Where would he stop?
"You're beautiful, you know. I can't think of anything else but making love when you're around."
She whimpered as he trailed a path closer to the juncture of her thighs.
Abruptly, he lowered her hands to her waist.
She glanced out of the window and was taken aback that he had brought her home, to the house Brad and she shared.
"I want you so bad,” Michael whispered in her ear. “I can taste your nipples, your clit."
Before she knew what had happened, he had thrown open the door and ushered her naked out into the snowing cold. Her nipples tightened into painful peaks and the cold stung her skin. Belatedly, she realised she still had her shoes on. Not much but it was better than walking on the snow in bare feet.
He pushed her ahead of him, up the four steps to the front door. The snow fell in lazy drifts down her naked back. She shivered, wishing she could lie down on a blanket and make frenzied, passionate love to this man who was all but a stranger to her now.
She couldn't believe her eyes when he fished in his hip pocket, retrieved a key and slid the shiny metal into the front door. “How dare you?” she shouted, appalled by his ability to enter her house as if it was his own. How long had he possessed a key?
His laughter reverberated through the empty house as he threw the door open with his foot.
"I own you,” he said simply. “You shouldn't be surprised at anything I do."
"You don't own me. You never did, you never will,” she replied angrily.
"Just the same way I belong to you,” he whispered as if he hadn't heard her.
With sure footsteps, he carried her up the stairs into the master bedroom and hit a switch. Light flooded the room, blinding her for a moment.
"How long have you had a key to my house?"
"Since you moved in,” he said casually.
He dropped her onto the quilted rose comforter. She lay on her back with her knees slung over the side of the queen-sized bed. Using a stomach crunch to pull herself up, she almost got herself to a seated position but Michael's powerful body came down on hers, forcing her to lie down in exactly the same position she had been in in the limousine.
"Seems to me this is the perfect place to live out my fantasies,” he drawled.
"I won't let you touch me."
"Don't kid yourself. You want me as much as I want you."
Nothing came out except for a hiss. Rage, fuelled by helplessness, poured through her. And an overpowering need for his cock in her sheath. She knew she was lying to herself. She wanted him, but she didn't want the murderer he had so obviously become.
"Cat got your tongue?” He chuckled.
"I don't want you,” she said from a throat that felt stuffed with cotton.
"For some reason, I don't believe you.” He loosened his tie and drew it from his neck. Silk swished against silk in the dead silence. He pulled her wrists together above her head, dragged her against the pillows and secured her wrists to the brass headboard railing.
She looked up at her bound wrists. “You bastard. You used your silk tie.” She struggled uselessly.
"Only the best for you, sweetheart."
"Let me go,” she whispered. “I promise I won't say anything to anyone about you. Just, just go away."
He smiled. She couldn't decide if he had a mischievous glint in his eyes or if the light was playing tricks with them. “You don't want me to do that. Really."
The mattress straightened as he got up. She watched as he ambled to the mirrored dresser and threw one drawer open after another. When he lifted the cream-coloured scarf with a paisley design on its surface, she took a deep breath. What would he do with the thin piece of fabric?
She tugged hard on her wrists as he approached her, but the material of his tie didn't give. “I won't let you do whatever you're going to do."
"Why don't you indulge me for a few minutes? You might like it.” His voice was low and husky as he slowly raked his gaze from the top of her head to her breasts, down to her pussy, and to the tips of her toes. She writhed against the sexually heated look.
He leaned over her. She observed him with a detached fascination as he traced one corner of the scarf along the sides of her breasts, making the nipples become even tauter than they were.
Smiling with amusement, he trailed the sheer material down her midriff, leaving a path of burning fire to her feminine core. All she could think of was his eyes lingering on her pussy and her clenched thighs. The scarf floated to the floor.
"I want to have some fun tonight,” he said, rising from the bed and admiring his handiwork. She couldn't help observing through his eyes how wound up she must look—her nipples hard, yearning pebbles, the fine curls of her pubic hair and the wildness in her eyes.
"There's no one for miles around. And Brad won't be coming back tonight. Let's say, he's busy."
Nicole thought she understood then. Perhaps he had Colin kidnap Brad. Thus Michael would use Brad's helplessness to gain whatever he wanted from her. She couldn't allow him to hurt her fiance. She turned away from Michael and stared at the wall. At the moment, he could do whatever he wanted and she didn't have a hope in hell of stopping him.
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Chapter Five
* * * *
"Why don't you watch me strip my clothes off?” Michael asked in a husky tone. “You used to like it when I tied you down, stripped you naked, then undressed myself."
A kittenish mewl escaped Nicole's lips. She was more arous
ed than she had ever been in her life. She was naked and helpless and oh, God, but she still wanted him. How she wanted his touch, to be the only woman in his world, to forget the years she had been robbed of his presence.
Time and circumstances had made her a new person, a woman who had learned the hard way that love wasn't meant for her in this lifetime. Ten isolated years had taught her that she would never again have a man in her life like James had been. Powerful, handsome, courageous, and above all, a man who made her heart trip over itself.
"Why do you think you can walk back into my life, and undo all the knots that hold me together?” she demanded, although she desperately wanted to add that he left her a quivering mass of flesh at his mere presence.
"Look me in the eye,” he said, sitting down beside her.
"Where else would I look?"
"Don't fight me, sweetheart. Believe me. I didn't murder anyone.” His eyes begged for understanding. Eyes of a murderer.
"I don't believe you. Not even for a moment."
"You don't have to,” he said barely above a whisper. “I'm going to prove I didn't."
"How are you going to do that?” she flashed back. “By killing me?” After all, wasn't she the only witness to the crime? She hadn't actually seen him cut his father's throat but she had seen him holding the bloody knife.
A muscle under his right eye twitched erratically. “You shouldn't talk to me like that."
"Or else you'll explode?” She knew better than to push his hot buttons.
"I'm going to say this over and over until you believe me. I didn't kill my father. I don't know who did but I'm going to find out."
"And you expect me to believe you? If you didn't do it, why did you spend all those years in prison?"
He raised his eyebrows. “For all I know, you murdered my father."
She hissed a breath, wanting to strike out at him. “You know damned well that's not in my mentality."
Michael pressed his lips together in a grim line. “Do you think so?"
Imminent Conquest Page 6
