enough to take advantage of the fact that he obviously believed her judgment was impaired by the alcohol she'd consumed.
She gave him her most sultry look, propping her arm on the table and dropping her chin onto her hand.
“Now you're teasing me.'
Something flickered in his eyes. “I can, if you like.'
The breath rushed from her lungs as her heart lurched in her chest. Despite her wayward libido and her natural reluctance to encourage this sort of conversation under ordinary circumstances, she reminded herself that she was trying to catch him off guard.
'What did you have in mind?” she said in a throaty voice, smiling at him faintly.
He studied her for several moments and finally rose from his chair, took her hand, and led her from the dining room. “I'm much better at showing than telling.'
A wave of dizziness washed over her. She struggled to throw it off, refusing to admit even to herself, that it was as much or more pure carnal lust than the wine she had drank. Blushing, she smiled at him in what she hoped was a combination of interest and shyness as he placed her hand on his arm and escorted her from the dining room. In the doorway, she turned slightly toward him, lifting her hand and placing it on his chest.
'I hardly know you. I don't even know your name,” she whispered, grasping two handfuls of his jacket.
'Danior,” he said, leaning close, his eyelids heavy over his dark eyes.
Even as he leaned his head toward her, she brought her knee up between his legs as hard as she could and gave him a shove backwards.
Whirling, she made a mad dash for the front door. She was on it so fast she slammed into the door and nearly knocked the breath out of herself. She twisted the knob but the door wouldn't open. Through the glass medallion in the center she could see it was also boarded over. How the hell had they even gotten into the house? There must be another door, but she didn't think she had time to look for it.
Turning, she scooped the poker up from the stairs, smashing through the glass. The poker bit into the wood with a thud. She hammered at it with gusto but failed to do more than break off splinters of wood.
What the hell had he closed this with? Four by sixes?
'You can't leave that way,” he said directly behind her, scaring the life out of her.
Maggie whirled around, gasping, swinging the poker. He caught the poker mid-air, halting her strike.
Frowning, he jerked it free and sent it sailing across the foyer with a metallic clatter as it hit the floor.
Maggie gaped at him as his fingers locked around her wrists. She brought her knee up. He smiled grimly as he blocked her ball busting move with his thigh, grunting at the impact.
'That was a nasty thing to do, chere,” he said, tightening his hold on her wrists, pulling her back toward the stairs.
'I don't know why you expected anything different. You kidnapped me!” she gritted out, digging her heels in. She felt slivers of glass cut her bare feet and winced at the pain that shot through them.
He pulled her inexorably toward the stairs. Visions of torture swamped her mind. She couldn't let him take her up there.
She went limp, forcing him to release her as she dropped to the floor. Ignoring the bruise to her hip as she landed, she rolled onto her stomach to get to her feet.
'Merde,” he cursed and landed on top of her, pinning her to the floor.
Maggie gasped as his weight locked over her, his knees around her waist, his hands on her shoulders. It was just like the attack. Panic gripped her, sending her heart racing, her lungs burning for air, her mind in a mad whirl of chaotic thought. She reached out for anything, any kind of weapon.
Glass sliced a finger open, drawing her attention. She grasped it, ignoring the pain as it laid open her right palm. She reached across and stabbed at his hand on her left shoulder.
He hissed in pain and broke her slick grip on the glass, flinging it away. Lifting off her struggling form the briefest moment, he flipped her over and straddled her hips, pinning her hands to the floor.
'You little fool. I should let you open that door and kill yourself, if only to make you believe.'
'You're crazy!” she gritted out, struggling against his grip. Jesus! He was stronger than she would have ever imagined. Her fingers were going tingly, numb from the pressure.
He sighed wearily and pulled her arms down, shifting his weight until he could pin her hands down with his knees.
Once his hands were free, he straightened and looked down at her, his hands resting on his splayed thighs. Her chest rose and fell drastically with each breath as she continued to struggle to free herself. She couldn't move her arms more than to flap her elbows. Her legs were useless, not because she couldn't move them, but because no matter how hard she strained to buck him, he couldn't be budged.
'Hold still if you don't want me doing something you'll regret,” he warned in a voice rough with arousal.
She looked up at him and caught him staring at the movement of her breasts. More than the sight of his eyes devouring her, the erection straining the fly of his leather pants snared her attention.
He caught her startled gaze as it flew back up to his eyes. She immediately went limp, a lethargy spreading over her at the feel of his power spreading through her body. She thought the wine had gotten to her but knew that was wrong, that this was different. She could feel him
It was working. He kept her thoughts churning, unable to focus on anything so simple as commanding her body to move, to fight him.
He slid his hands down his thighs, bending as he spread his palms over her ribcage just beneath her breasts. Her bra was gone, and in her supine position, her breasts had spread, leaving her cleavage wide enough he could press his lips there if he so chose.
She imagined him tugging her neckline down to scrape his teeth and tongue over her flesh, to nip and lave her breasts until they were ripe and achy from the grip of his large hands.
Maggie slowly blinked as the images changed and he thrust his hand down the front of her jeans, cupping her mound to dip his fingers in the top of her slit and flick the hidden bud there. Her mouth parted on a sigh, the waking dream so intense, her body reacted as if it was real. Her slit moistened, her clit pulsed with a rush of blood and arousal.
Maggie blinked once more, recognizing her descent into the forbidden. She felt drugged—no—mesmerized. These weren't her thoughts. She felt his suggestion, recognized the imagery as his own.
He smiled knowingly, eliciting a quiver inside her vagina that had her clenching the muscles tight.
He slid a hand up, stroking the valley between her breasts, spreading his fingers until they grazed the rounded edges of her breasts. Maggie mentally flinched from him.
He stopped just shy of touching her where she shamelessly wanted to be touched, watching her. “You don't want me to touch you? Is it because you are repulsed by me, or is it something else?” His strange accent flowed over her like deep, mellow music. She wanted to cave into it. Needed to in the worst kind of way.
She'd never found one strong enough to command her in the bedroom. Men were intimidated by her, and even if they hadn't been, most were shorter and lighter than she was and couldn't dominate an ant if their life depended on it. She couldn't imagine some weakling taking sexual command of her. She was too much of a realist, her will too strong to tame.
More than that, her body repulsed her in a way that she could never truly let loose and enjoy herself.
She'd never found a man capable of making her forget what she was.
He gave her a pleased look after a moment, his heavy brows arching with amusement.
'I've never found anyone so young capable of shielding,” he said thoughtfully, removing his hands from her body to prop on his thighs once more. “Do you believe I am what I say?” he said aloud.
He released her from thrall, allowing her to speak. “No,” she gritted out defiantly, shaken by how close she'd
