Read Seduced by the Scrum-Half (Strathstow Sharks) for Free Online Page B

dry click in her throat. Crap. She was tied to the bed of a man she’d known for less than twenty-four hours. What a damn stupid thing to do. He could be into anything...any kind of kinky shit, and tied up as she was, there was nothing she could do about it.
    As though he could read the fears rolling through her mind, feeding her more horrific images, he reached out and ran a soothing hand up her leg.
    “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”
    His voice was so low and heartfelt that, in an instant, all her fears melted away. And it wasn’t as if he’d been trying to hide either of their identities in the pub. It wouldn’t have taken a genius to figure they were headed back to bang each other’s brains out. The roughness of his palm abraded the soft skin of her thigh, and she shivered again, the arousal that had been dampened by her fear flooding in to consume her.
    She couldn’t stop looking at him. His broad shoulders and wide chest were wreathed in heavy muscle that she ached to explore with her lips and tongue, while his narrow waist led down into lean hips and the powerful thighs of a runner. After years of watching the Sharks in action, she knew all about his explosive action on the pitch. Now she had all that power and speed to herself.
    A shiver hit her broadside, the quiver in her stomach doing nothing to erase the heat in her blood, and her gaze dropped lower. That didn’t help, her attention caught on the bulge in his pants. She’d felt it pressing into her belly, hard and heavy, but now it looked huge. Her eyes widened as the fabric pulled, outlining the rigid shaft. Oh my, would it even fit?
    He let go of her leg to ease off the bed. Every movement was a study in masculine grace. Heat flushed her cheeks, and then washed over her body as he dropped his hands to his belt. Shit. He’d made her come twice, but she hadn’t done anything for him. Damn selfish cow. She pulled on her wrists, and his hands stopped moving.
    “Something wrong?”
    “Let me go,” she begged. “I need...want to touch you.”
    His chuckle was immediate and so wicked that she felt another rush of liquid heat slide from her.
    “Love, if I let you touch me now, then it’ll be all she wrote. And I plan to make this last as long as possible...savor it as I make you come again and again, until you’re hoarse from screaming my name.”
    He yanked open his belt, ripped the zipper open at the same time to release his cock. Long and thick, it arched against his stomach, the flushed purple head a proud statement of his masculinity and virility.
    She whimpered, trying to suppress the sound of need and failing miserably. She needed this. Oh God, did she need this. Her work didn’t leave much time for personal relationships so the last time had been... Waaay too long ago to think about. With him shoving his pants down, divesting himself of his shoes and socks in the same economical movement, to stand naked in front of her, she wasn’t capable of that kind of mental arithmetic. No way, no how.
    In fact, all she could do was watch him reach into the little drawer on the bedside cabinet again and extract a small foil packet. Strong fingers made short work of the wrapper, and his eyes didn’t leave hers as he rolled the thin sheath over the luscious length of his cock.
    He stepped forward, the bed dipping again as he planted a knee between her spread thighs. She couldn’t look away, her gaze locked to storm-grey eyes as he crawled over her. The banked power and tension in his body hit her deep in the stomach. Primal female instincts urged her to surrender to him. Offer everything that she had, everything that she was.
    “So beautiful,” he murmured, a hand skimming the outside of her thigh even as he used a hard knee to part her legs wider. Threading his arm through hers, he slid his forearm beneath her neck and lowered himself over her. Surrounding her, protecting her, and creating a world inhabited by just the two of them.
    He