Make Me Feel Read Free

any choice, do you?” he murmured.
    She blinked. Had he read her mind? “I don’t have any choice?” she asked in a quivering voice.
    “You don’t have any choice but to come.”
    “No,” she moaned, her entire body a tight knot of sexual tension. “God, no.”
    He pulsed the vibrator demandingly. “Then
do
it.”
    The knot exploded. She shook violently in the rope restraints.
    But they held firm.

Chapter Two
    When she’d calmed, he came onto the bed again and entered her. With the blindfold removed, she was free to watch him this time, to bear witness to yet another claiming of her. He staked it every bit as forcefully and completely as he had the first time.
    Afterward, tears inexplicably welled in her eyes as he tenderly dried her skin of his semen and systematically removed the rope restraint. It was like he was liberating her in more ways than one, freeing her to a huge, intimidating well of emotion. As he removed the last length of the rope from her ankle, and her aching leg straightened, he noticed her damp eyes.
    “I . . . don’t know why,” she admitted with a shaky laugh, seeing his brows slant in concern.
    “It’s okay,” he said. He came down on the bed next to her and pulled her into his arms. Her cheek fell against his chest. He hugged her tight, his embrace divine. Emotion flooded her.
    “The ropes bring out a lot of things, before, during, and after,” he murmured, kissing her temple. She gasped against his chest and shuddered. He stroked her hair, soothing her roughened state. “But I’m still here, Harper. I’m still right here with you.”
    * * *
    She slept after that, with Jacob holding her fast in his arms. Despite her strong surge of emotion after they’d made love—not to mention her startling realization that she was falling for him—she awoke feeling alert, calm, and content. Their sexual exchange had been intense and the most challenging of her life, but strangely, it seemed to have acted like some kind of catharsis on her emotions.
    The soft, muffled sound of Jacob’s shower penetrated her awareness. She was a little forlorn to realize that he was already up, but did have a vague recollection of him running kisses along her jaw and neck and murmuring in a sexy, sleep-roughened voice that he needed to get up. She’d been too sleepy to do much of anything but mutter an incomprehensible protest when his warm, hard body moved away from her. Afterward, she’d fallen back to sleep.
    She knew he had a lot of work to attend to today, and had already gotten a late start. The memory of what had happened at the opera swept through her then. It no longer had the depressing effect on her that it had just hours ago. What had taken place in Jacob’s bed early this morning had been so powerful, last night seemed like it’d happened months ago.
    She rose and showered on her own in the guest bathroom. It was already almost noon, and Cyril Atwater was coming here at twelve thirty to have lunch and meet with Harper about the proposed film. She was sitting on a stool at the vanity, wearing a light robe and combing her damp hair, when she heard a knock at the bathroom door.
    “Come in,” she called, turning toward the door.
    Jacob walked into the room, looking appealing in a white shirt, black blazer, and jeans, his hair appearing as dark as his goatee because it was still damp from his shower. Her heart gave a little jump when she saw the expression in his golden-green eyes as he glanced over her. He approached, a small smile tilting his mouth.
    For some stupid reason, shyness swept through her. He’d done incredibly intimate things to her in his bed, and here he was, looking like he was ready to do a GQ cover, seemingly so miles out of her league, so untouchable. The disparity jarred her.
    For a few seconds, anyway.
    Until he said, “Morning,” in a warm, gruff voice, and leaned down to kiss her. His mouth lingered when she reciprocated, his hand going to the back of her head.