Lifting a hand, his fingers met the taut cords of my neck. Firm pressure guided my head back, exposing the length of my throat. I swallowed, watching him over the tip of my nose.

His eyes lingered on mine then lowered. His head followed, putting his mouth a hairsbreadth above the hollow between my collarbones, fanning warm breaths across my shuddering skin. He hovered there for the longest minute of my life, tarrying on the edge between impulse and restraint.

My heart worked itself to exhaustion, waiting for him to do something more than just…smell me. But I didn’t dare move or speak in fear of breaking the spell.

Incrementally, his hot, wet breaths grew hotter and wetter. The sensation confused me until I realized what I felt was the swirl of his tongue.

With a hand still holding back my head, he licked the ridge of my collarbone. A featherlight tickle. A taunt. Wicked to the extreme.

The torment continued lower, his lips ghosting oh-so softly across the exposed swell of my breast. The barely-there sensation brought my lungs to an abrupt halt, and I gulped, inadvertently causing my trussed-up flesh to rise toward his mouth.

His free hand gripped my waist, and he licked again, hunting for hidden curves beneath the edge of the bodice.

I whimpered, and a groan vibrated in his chest, one I knew he hadn’t meant to give.

The invisible wall between us shuddered and bowed.

His mouth slipped to my other breast, followed by a scratch of canines. Everything inside me foundered, spiraling into felicity, into burning, sinful bliss.

As if he sensed my internal combustion, he bit harder, sinking teeth into skin, hard enough to leave an imprint.

Arousal surged, and I trembled for breath, needing, fearing, hoping he would close in for the kill. Lick me, bite me, suck me. I wanted to drown in his pleasure.

I wanted to grip his stern face, crush my mouth against his, and render him stupid. But if I initiated a kiss, it would give him another opportunity to reject me.

No, he had to start this, lead it, and control every step thereafter. It was the only way a man like him functioned.

So I kept my hands to myself, and consciously doing so made me realize I’d never touched him outside of self-defense. What did the texture of his hair feel like? Would his muscled torso heat and flex beneath my palms? How quickly would his cock grow in my grip?

Those answers, his tongue on my breast, and the sounds of his gasps slowly invited me beneath the mask and into the secret realm of Lord Ashley Cutler.