Iron Dominance Read Online Free Page B

little shorter than the red, with fabric as sheer as his housemaids could discover among the archive of clothes. A small trick—he wasn’t completely deaf to Dankyo’s arguments. Claire might be a woman, but her casual application of a fingerlock on the doctor spoke of some training. Escaping would be a damned sight more difficult in a flimsy dress. As an added bonus, this way he could admire her form without being too obvious.
    During this treatment he left his hand on her thigh while he studied the wound. Her breasts rose a little quicker when she breathed, her lips parted, and the tiny hairs on her legs stirred in goose bumps.
    Why this delightful reaction? Ah. Of course.
    His fingertips had strayed a half inch under the dress and were only three, four inches from the apex of her legs. He slowly withdrew his hand, then casually laid it on her ankle, watching her as he traced circles with his thumb on her warm skin. Though she shifted her leg an inch away, when he put his hand back, she did nothing, as if hypnotized by the stroking.
    The faint aroma of arousal came to him. She was wet. Desire had caught her up the same as him. His nostrils flared. She felt their connection. Manners said that he shouldn’t take this further unless she assented, yet even so he let his fingers drift around her ankle and loosely hold her there—the first step of possession.
    She would give that assent to him, and once he gained her permission, he didn’t plan to do anything less than give her the most thorough ravishing any woman could experience.

Chapter Three

    On the third day, he knew the pain would be light enough that he didn’t need to fasten Claire’s hands out of the way. When he strode toward the bed, she put her uncuffed hand above her head, joining the one already fastened there.
    Her shoulder muscles slid, sculpted by light. Such a simple movement—yet the shift of curve on curve slew him. The widening of her pupils, the visible beat of her carotid pulse, the willingness, it all spoke to him of submissiveness. He caught his breath as his foot swung to touch floor. Need trickled, then poured into him. He wanted this woman at his feet, held by his will, wanted to wind his hand into her hair so tight she couldn’t move, to tilt her head to one side and sink his teeth into her glorious long neck. It called to his blood. God.
    The moment broke a second later. She stirred and took down her hand, her face flushed.
    * * *
    Why do I have my hands above my head ? Confusion swallowed her as Theo arrived at the side of the bed, all towering and male, those adorable black curls that begged her to twist them round a finger. She lowered her unsecured hand, speaking to cover up how lost she felt. “Good morning.”
    What would it be like to wrap her arms around him, to smell his hair, run her fingers through those curls?
    “Yes. It is.” He smiled. “This will hurt very little, and I don’t need to cuff both your hands.”
    He sat, then efficiently inserted the first of the electrodes. After a minute or two of watching him work on her leg, Claire found calmness settling over her. The way he focused on her treatment and nothing else left her free to watch his every move without fear of being watched in turn.
    The treatment over, Theo packed away the machine and its parts.
    He took her hand in his, and kissed the palm—a simple possession of her hand. She wanted to pull away, and not, wanted that kiss again. The room vanished, and there remained only his hold on her hand, his gray eyes, the drumming of her heart.
    “Claire?”
    “Yes?” she asked huskily.
    “May I have your permission to court you?”
    A lightning strike might have had less effect. She stopped breathing and stared at him, knowing a complete dunce could see her reaction.
    He ran a finger lightly from palm to wrist to arm. “If you don’t speak, I’ll take that as a yes.”
    She swallowed past the dryness in her throat. “Why? I’m your prisoner, not