Page 47 of Man Cuffed
He throws the script onto the deck and stalks toward me, where I’m standing by the fence. He takes both my hands in one of his larger ones and raises them over my head, pinning me. “Stay right there, Miss, I said to her.I need to frisk you.”
Oh my. I never imagined he’d do the blocking as well as read the lines. And now I’m sandwiched between the fence boards and his washboard abs. The scent of his shampoo wafts over me as he glares down at me with a fierce expression.
And I forget my next line.
Silence ticks by while I try to remember what my character is supposed to say. Oh! I got it. “How’d she take it?” I finally ask, trying to maintain my bravado. That’s in the script, too.
“She took it like a girl who didn’t want to spend the night in a holding cell. She took it on her knees, while I frisked her mouth with my cock.” He even snarls the line, like an asshole. Like a good actor, too.
“You’re going to get caught,” I say quietly. I lift my chin and let myself stare into his eyes. “One of these days it’s all going to catch up with you.”
“Not today, though,” he rasps, nailing the line, then trapping my hips against his, pinning me in place. It’s like the erotic version of theStar Warstrash compactor scene.
Don’t judge my metaphors. It’s a classic.
Meanwhile, my hormones are firing like crazy. And I’ll be damned if this scene doesn’t make more sense to me than it did an hour ago. This scene is about risky choices. About taking what you want but don’t deserve.
“Meg?” he rasps.
“Yeah?” I whisper.
“I don’t remember what happens next, and I tossed your script on the floor.”
Oh, please. “Like we don’t both know what happens next. You need a teleprompter?”
He makes a quiet growling sound and drops my wrists to capture the back of my head instead. We both pause for a moment, just a breath, as if suspended between this moment and the next. What’s going to happen? Do we go forward or do we go back?
Then I’m kissed like I’ve never been kissed before.
Firm lips catch me and then claim me.
And I’m so ready.
I slide into the kiss like I was born to it. He tastes like beer and heat.
“Fuck,” he says, tilting his head, changing the angle. As if he can’t quite believe we’re doing this. His lips slide against mine, and then deepen their pressure. His fingers tighten in my hair, and I open for him.
And, wow. His bossy tongue is right there against mine. I spar with him, tasting him. My hands—flailing from sensory overload—find his bare chest. And the contact with his skin is a shock. I feel myself tighten inside, the pressure mounting. My palms skim down his ribcage, my thumbs bumping over each muscular ripple.
Our mouths are locked together now, and the moment one kiss stops, another one begins. We struggle a little, both trying to figure out how to move even closer. He bats my hand off his tight tummy and then scoops a hand under my bottom, lifting me up, pinning me against the fence a little higher than I was before.
I wrap my legs around him on impulse. He groans, and our kiss becomes a dirty grind.
Holy hell. We’re going to wind up on my bed, if we even make it to my bed. There is a spectacular erection trying its best to burst through Mac’s shorts. And I’m in the mood to help it along. Except I don’t ever want this kiss to end. I wrap my arms around him and press my breasts against all that skin and muscle.
This should have been a silk underwear night for me, too.Who knew?
“You did,” he growls into my mouth.
Whoops. I guess I said that out loud.
“You and your sexy script and your wicked mouth. Do you know what entrapment is?”
“No,” I purr against the corner of his mouth.
“Me neither. Not anymore. I can’t think when you look at me like I’m a stolen dessert.”
“I’m very devious.” I lean in and bite his lower lip gently. “Maybe you should punish me.”
