Imminent Conquest (8 page)

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 get 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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"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 aroused 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?"

Nicole spluttered. “Of course you do!” She realised how silly that sounded. She wouldn't hurt a minuscule ant, let alone actually kill a man. What had happened to the Carmichael family that their son had been forced to commit murder? The years peeled away as she remembered the pleasant and jovial James Carmichael, Senior. He was the kind of father she wished she would have had.

A small growl from deep within his throat made her look into his eyes. Unfathomable pain lurked behind the sapphire blue. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. He wasn't about to lose control of his thin temper, was he?

"Now is a time for relaxation,” he said, touching her cheek with a featherlight touch.

Maybe if she allowed him to do what he wanted this once, he would realise she didn't want anything to do with him. Then he would leave her alone so they could go on with their separate lives. Maybe, this once, she could get him out of her fevered mind, convince herself that he had been important in her life, but that was no longer the case. She snorted. Would it be enough this one time, to suck his cock and savour his body?

The fight went out of her. Why resist such overwhelming sexiness? Lethargically, she wanted more of this man. More than, she suspected, he was willing to give. She sighed inwardly. It was either wanting him or trying to find futile methods of clocking him and living with the guilt that she had hurt someone. The bedside lamp might reach far enough, she thought idly. But she had loved him once. How could she hurt him? Why couldn't she think straight?

He circled her bound wrists with a large hand. “Do you want to be free to touch me?"

"Yes,” came from between clenched teeth.

The emotions she had buried over the years returned with a vengeance, along with despair, bitterness, guilt and regret for the irretrievable years. The love she had felt for him, the fun they had had together, and how she had trusted him with every part of her being. He would never have harmed her. Not ever. But she wasn't sure any more. He was a different man, more in control, less willing to give that power up.

As promised, he untied her hands. With a shaky intake of breath, she watched him warily.

"Can we start over? From the very beginning?” Gently, he freed her wrists.

How could she do that? She had spent the time he was in prison trying to forget him, which was as impossible to achieve as someone trying to overcome their fear of heights. “There's no way to regain what we once had,” she whispered, boldly meeting his eyes.

He crooked his finger and lifted her chin. Determination set his features into rigid lines. “Maybe we can make a fresh start, knowing what we know?” he pleaded, reminding her of the old James, the man who was confident and strong but at the same time sensitive to her needs. They had planned to marry as soon as she turned twenty. She had meant to spend the rest of her life with him. She pursed her lips, trying to look away from the daunting past. That kind of thinking only led to heartache and recriminations.

His answer was to simply incline his head, as if accepting the inevitable. But the tender moment vanished as he jerked her off the bed. He was no longer the man she had once known. He had changed. And it wasn't for the better. He was more mercurial in his moods.

He spun her around and seated himself on the bed as he drove her to her knees between his thighs. Nicole's breath caught in her throat when she caught sight of his erection straining against the ridge of his dark pants. Lust smouldered deep within her belly. Could she let herself want him just this one time?