Armie didn’t look away from her eyes, but he breathed harder.

She dragged down the zipper, then slipped her hands into the jeans along her hips and slowly pushed down the tight material until she could step free.

His nostrils flared.

She dropped the jeans over a chair, pulled back the comforter on his bed and, full of uncertainty, slipped beneath the covers. To make room for Armie, she scooted over to the middle, looked at him and waited.

“If I wasn’t drunk,” he whispered, staring at her, “I might be able to do this.” He edged closer, caught the comforter and dragged it away from her body. His blistering gaze surveyed every inch of her, leaving her singed. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” He’d been prepared to die for her. She trusted him completely.

A deep, harsh groan tore from his throat, and then he was in the bed, gathering her close, one hand in her hair, the other low on her back, almost to her derriere. Their legs tangled, his hairy and muscular, hers smooth and slim. She felt soft chest hair against her cheek, and the heavy bumping of his heartbeat.

“Armie?”

“Shh. Give me a minute.”

“Okay.” He smelled so good and felt so nice, she didn’t mind just being close with him. But as the time slipped by, she started to wonder if he’d fallen asleep. The bedside lamp was on and the comforter remained at the foot of the bed.

Levering back from his hold, she tipped up her face and found his eyes closed, his brows lightly pinched.

She scooted upward to kiss the injury to his head, and that’s when she saw the restraint hanging loosely from his headboard. She couldn’t quite look away from it, either, now that she’d spotted it.

“Armie?”

His dark lashes left shadows over his high cheekbones. “Hmm?”

Now she frowned, too. “Are you playing possum?”

“Concentrating.”

“On what?”

His hand slid farther down, over one cheek of her behind. He stroked with his thumb, fondled, then returned to the small of her back. Voice raspy, he said, “Not doing more of that.”

After that sizzling, sensual caress, it took her a second to regain her voice. “Oh.” She cleared her throat. “Can we talk about this tie hanging from your bedpost?”

His eyes opened, dark, compelling. “We could talk about you losing this shirt.”

That low, rough voice enticed as much as the suggestion. “Oh, Armie,” she whispered. “If you weren’t drunk, I would.”

“If I wasn’t drunk, I wouldn’t ask.”

Probably true. She sighed.

As if to convince her, he said, “I’m a better cocksman when inebriated.”

The laugh almost burst out. “Cocksman?”

He nudged his erection against her. “Like a swordsman, but with my dick.”

“Yes.” She had to work at keeping the smile at bay. “I understood the reference.”

The hand on her back began toying with her shirt. “Want me to show you?”

“I want you to explain the restraint.”

His eyes went heavy, sensual. “I use them to tie up frisky ladies so I can do as I please—and they love it.”

“Is that one of the things women ask of you? To be tied down?” Being at Armie’s mercy—she wouldn’t mind that. In fact, her toes curled just talking about it.

“Yeah.” He drew her down for a kiss. “They beg for it.”

Merissa avoided his mouth and instead kissed his forehead, then the bridge of his nose. “The woman who was here tonight, that’s what she likes?”

“She likes her bottom hot.” Armie turned his head and nuzzled into her neck. “But I shouldn’t be telling you that.”

On the contrary, she found it fascinating. “So you...spank her?”

“Yeah.” He lightly bit her shoulder, then stilled. “You into that?”

Merissa gave an emphatic, “No.”

Armie relaxed again. “Good. I would never want to hurt you. Not in any way.”

Touched by that confession, Merissa hugged his head to her breasts. The way he’d said that though, not in any way, had her thoughts churning.

He did a little more nuzzling, getting close to her nipples. She scooted back down so they were again face-to-face.

Armie just looked at her, his gaze probing and aroused, but also slightly off focus.

“I sort of expected your bedroom to be full of sex toys.”

“Mmm,” he murmured with a smile. “Women bring their own.”

That reply took her by surprise. “Really?”

Trailing his fingertips down her arm, he said, “I figure they can handle their own cleanup.”

Euewww. “TMI.”

He laughed, kissed the top of her head. “How can it be too much information when you’re grilling me?”

“I didn’t expect...”

“Sex is a messy business.” His voice went deeper. “Women get nice and wet when turned on, and men come.” He stroked her hair back. “You know that.”

She knew plain vanilla sex with men she hadn’t loved. No sex toys, no restraints and definitely no spanking. She didn’t need kink with Armie, but she wanted him happy. “What you said to that woman...”

“It’s really bad form for me to spank and tell.”

She scooted closer. “But I’m curious.”

“God,” he groaned, “don’t be.”

She loved the sprinkling of chest hair over his solid pecs, and that tantalizing trail that bisected his body. She loved that he respected women enough to care about sharing things private, and that he didn’t want to take advantage of her.

She loved his body and his attitude, his capability and his concern—she loved everything about him. “I’ll keep it general.”

He rocked her a little and asked, “Why don’t you sleep?”

“Do you enjoy spanking women?”

He groaned again.

“Armie,” she persisted.

He silently stared at her for a good long while, then surprised her again by turning to his stomach, stacking an arm under his cheek, and getting comfortable.

“Armie?”

Time ticked by. Merissa narrowed her eyes. “If you just fall asleep, I swear I’ll—”

He didn’t move. Didn’t open his eyes. She huffed. He’d actually gone to sleep. She watched his back rise and fall with deep, even breaths. Seeing the raised, discolored welt there softened her annoyance.

Then she noticed that when he’d turned over, he’d displaced his boxers. The waistband was tugged down a good three inches on one side, showing a strip of paler flesh over the top of his firm butt. With one fingertip she traced his spine, and still he didn’t stir.

Would he remember any of this tomorrow morning? Oh, it was evil of her, but she almost hoped he wouldn’t. It’d be fun to give him a hard time, to reveal to him, little by little, everything they’d discussed and how many times he’d kissed her.

As to that, she smiled, thinking wicked, very naughty thoughts as she watched him sleep. Her gaze went to his partially exposed backside.

Well, she did leave her signature note everywhere.