“You think you’re giving the orders?” he asked.

“If you want to play,” she said, raising a brow, “you might want to follow them.”

“What sort of game do you want to play?” he asked, his voice rough.

“One we’re both going to like. I want to taste you.” His eyes darkened, his expression getting tense.

“Come on, Deputy Sheriff,” she said.

He walked over to the bed and wrapped his hand around her head, gripping her hair tight and leaning down, kissing her hard on the mouth before straightening, putting all of himself right at eye level.

She licked her lips and looked up at him, bracing her hands on his lean hips. She wanted this. Had wanted it since well before the first time they’d been together. They’d only had urgency then. No thought, no finesse and very little time for exploration.

Now she wanted to explore.

She leaned in, gripping his shaft in her palm and squeezing tight. He groaned, his head falling back, his hand returning to her hair, tugging slightly, the stinging sensation sending a shot of pleasure down between her thighs. Making her hotter. Wetter.

Then she leaned in, blazing a trail over his hard length with the tip of her tongue, her heart hammering fast as she explored him from tip to base and back again before taking him deep inside her mouth.

He was beautiful. He was incredible. And he made this a pleasure. A gift that was truly more blessed to give. Though based on the shivering of his thigh muscles he was very happy to receive.

She pleasured him with her hands, her lips, her tongue, reveling in this strong, solid man’s loss of control as he cursed and shook beneath her touch.

She’d never felt more powerful.

She’d never felt more wanted.

Such a dangerous game, but she wanted to play as long as she possibly could. To hold her hand near the flame until it burned her.

She shifted and took him in deeper and he tugged her hair hard, pulling her head up. “Not like that,” he said, his words a growl.

She looked at him, at the fierce, untamed light in his eyes. Eli Garrett was never anything less than civil. He’d once put her in handcuffs while she’d clawed and spit like a mad cat, and he’d never been less than a gentleman.

That was probably where some of the strange conflicting anger-desire had come from back then. Even when she was angry at him, she’d sensed somehow that he was the closest thing to a real-life superhero. Truth, justice, the American way and all that.

Yes, civility was second nature to him, and now it was stripped away. And he was reduced to nothing more than a man who desired a woman. Desired her. Restraint folded up on the floor with his uniform.

“What do you want?” she asked, moving away from him, leaning back on the bed, conscious of how her posture displayed her breasts, of how her relaxed thighs gave him a view of everything else.

“I need to be inside you,” he said, moving to the dresser and getting the bag, tugging out a box of condoms. He opened it, took out one condom, then threw the box to the bed, where it landed next to her. “You can put those in your nightstand.”

“Generous of you.”

“They’re only for me,” he said.

And she knew then that she’d only teased him at all to hear him say something like that. To hear him get proprietary and possessive and all the things she usually hated.

But being with Eli seemed to be an exploration of everything she’d previously labeled off-limits. Everything she’d always called a bad idea.

This was her chance to dip her toe into some fantasies she’d never given breath before. A man who would take charge. A man who would give as good as he got. A man who wouldn’t shrug and say, “Yeah, whatever,” if she called it off.

She put the box in the nightstand, not wanting to push him now. Someday she would. Just for fun. Just to see what would happen. But not now.

He tore open the packet and she watched, rapt, while he rolled the condom onto his thick length. She liked seeing that big, masculine hand wrapped around his cock. She’d love to watch him bring himself off sometime. And she’d never wanted to do that before, because what would be in it for her?

But with Eli...watching him was one of the best things she could think to do with her time.

He moved to the bed and she smiled, kissing his lips, then pushing against him with all of her weight so that he was on his back and she was straddling him, the slick entrance to her body touching his hard length.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Going for a ride,” she said, smiling.

“Not just yet.”

He angled his head up and took one nipple deep in his mouth, sucking hard. A sharp groan volunteered to be the soundtrack to her pleasure, and there was nothing she could do to stop it as his hand teased her other nipple, while he slid his other palm down over her ass, his fingertips delving into the elegant line there, sending a shock wave of sensation through her.

Then he gripped her butt hard, tugging her into position, lowering her down onto his arousal, every thick inch filling her slowly. Perfectly.

“I’m supposed to be in charge here,” she said, when he was buried in her to the hilt.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice rough. “Missed that memo.”

“No, you didn’t.”

He slid his hand over her bottom again, squeezing her. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Ride you until you can’t speak anymore. Until you don’t have the energy to challenge me.”

“We could be here all night,” he said.

“Oh, I hope so.”

He gripped her face, tugging her head down so he could kiss her hard, his other hand still firm on her bottom, keeping her pressed tightly against him as he flexed his hips upward, stealing her control, stealing her breath.

He was amazing. Perfect. Everything.

And never before had she assigned those adjectives to a man.

But they fit him, just like he fit her.

She pushed her hips forward, butting up against his, sensation rocketing through her. He released his hold on her chin, his head falling back, his hands moving to a more relaxed position on her hips as he let her take the lead.

She braced her hands on his shoulders, moving in time with his breathing. Slow and measured at first, then faster, harder, more intense. Her orgasm started to build, a low ball of pleasure and intensity in the pit of her stomach, pulsing down to her core, her internal muscles tightening around his hard length.

She squeezed his shoulders tight, her nails digging into his skin. She hoped he felt it. The pain and pleasure. She hoped she marked him, because he was damn well marking her. This didn’t feel like a game now. Not the light power struggle it had been. The fun flirtation. This was something raw. Pleasure walking a knife’s edge. One wrong slip and it would cut deep. Wound. Destroy. And scar forever.

She closed her eyes, her heartbeat pounding against the backs of them, blood roaring through her ears. “Oh...Eli...”