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Seven Nights in a Rogue's Bed (Sons of Sin 1)

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She sucked in a jagged breath and watched with blatant fascination as he shucked off his breeches. “Goodness me, you’re so big.”

Her unabashed admiration made him laugh. “You know just the right thing to say, tesoro.”

She blushed but didn’t look away. Her boldness sent heat spooling through him. “You haven’t let me see you before.”

“Eyes are overrated,” he said, lying through his teeth. Reflections of Sidonie proved sight a priceless gift. Fate could mete out no worse punishment than denying him sight of Sidonie after tomorrow.

Her mouth adopted a wry line at his asinine remark. When she folded her arms, her extravagant bosom plumped above her bodice. He muffled a groan of frustration. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

“Later. Now I want you to lie down.”

Heaven help him, he was already hot as the sun and he hadn’t even touched her. Who knew a bossy woman would put him in such a lather? “Are you going to kiss me all over?”

“Possibly.” The spark in her eyes contradicted her primness.

His nerves jumping, Jonas padded toward the bed and stretched out upon the crisp white sheets. Sidonie hesitated before following. Sensual curiosity thundered in his head. What was her game?

“Thank you.” She leaned down, offering him a breathtaking view of her breasts under that deucedly loose bodice, and slanted her lips over his. The kiss ended swiftly, but even that fleeting contact made him swell hard and thick. Glancing at his cock with another of those secretive smiles, she lifted his arm and reached toward the headboard.

He tilted his head to watch her. Suspicion tempered his pounding need. “What are you doing, bella?”

She bit her lip. The way her small white teeth dug into that full pink flesh was always damnably arousing. “Don’t fight me.”

“Why would I fight?”

Quickly she slipped a cord from under the pillow and lashed his wrist to the bedpost. Damn his complacency. At this rate, he mightn’t have the chance to pull her back into line. Shocked, he jerked against the tie and started to sit up. “What the hell?”

“Don’t.” She placed one hand flat on his bare chest.

She didn’t exert much pressure. Even if she did, he was strong enough to throw her off. But the warmth of her palm on his skin made him stop as though turned to stone. He poised, balancing on the arm she hadn’t tied—the kingdom’s biggest blockhead could guess her intentions now—and regarded her with baffled anger.

“This is risky play, amore mio,” he said soberly.

He tugged on the cord, expecting it to loosen, but Sidonie tied an

efficient knot. He shouldn’t be surprised. She was efficient with most things. He admired that—except when she turned that damned efficiency against him.

The color deepened in her cheeks. “Humor me.”

Glancing past her, he saw them reflected over and over. Tethered naked like a beast, he looked confoundedly defenseless. Standing over him, Sidonie appeared distant, queenly, omnipotent. He loathed what he saw.

She shifted to the other side of the bed. “Give me your hand.”

“No.” He reached to undo the cord.

She caught his hand. “Please.”

Her request didn’t mollify him. Anger rose, a potent brew with ever-present desire. “We haven’t been at this long enough for you to tire of the usual variations,” he said snidely and suffered a stab of remorse when her eyes darkened with hurt.

“I’m too inexperienced to know the usual variations.” She lent the last two words scathing emphasis.

With her watching him with that plea in her gaze, he couldn’t quite bring himself to untie the cord. “Believe me, tesoro, what you’re doing now exceeds boundaries most wives permit.”

“I’m not a wife.” Her spirit revived. “I’m your mistress.”

His heart kicked in protest. A mistress implied a woman of impermanent status passed from keeper to keeper. He didn’t feel that way about Sidonie. “You hate the mirrors,” he said flatly, hoping to coax her back into cooperating with him.

“I hate the blindfold more.”



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