When savvy celebrity photographer Deidre Laxon trespasses on private property in pursuit of hot Hollywood bachelor Greg Radigan, she hopes to catch him engaged in something sinfully naughty. After all, that's what she's paid for. But she has no idea she's about to capture him in all his naked glory participating in some very explicit BDSM play.
The moment the picture hits the newsstands, it quickly becomes the only thing anyone can talk about. Greg knows his career is ruined. Why couldn't the paparazzi have photographed him changing from his human form into his wolf shape? At least he could have tried to explain that astonishing scenario away as a digital enhancement.
Naturally, whoever took the picture has to pay.
When Greg and Deidre finally come face-to-face, he's ready to exact revenge. And nothing short of Deidre's complete submission will satisfy him...
Excerpt
She's early!
The thought flashed through Greg's mind on a wave of pure
agony as his limbs shifted from wolf form to his human shape. He felt his ribs
crack as they expanded, then mend while held his breath. At least he'd managed
to dive behind the nineteenth century spanking bench he'd picked up on his last
trip to Paris before the shift had captured him in its unforgiving grip.
God, he loved that bench. He just hadn't realized how much
until this moment.
Keeping his head down, he waited until he felt the last of
his bones snap into place before releasing the breath he'd been holding. His
muscles ached from the unexpected transformation, warning him he'd be feeling
the after-effects for days.
With a groan, Greg forced himself to his feet. Where was
Deidre, anyway? He remembered careening into her after she'd startled him out
of sleep, but he didn't think he'd hurt her.
Irritated at the pang of concern sweeping through him, Greg
straightened his spine, hid his discomfort behind a mask of determination and
turned toward the back of the room. He could see her now, huddled against the
base of the Saint Andrew's Cross. The firelight didn't quite reach that corner
of the vast basement, but it was enough to silhouette her in a semi-transparent
glow.
"G-Greg?" she asked, her voice quivering.
The sound of the sheer terror in her tone sent a spiral of
guilt to burrow in his gut. He swept it aside, though he had the almost
irrepressible urge to rush over there and fold her into his arms.
He sucked in a deep breath between clenched teeth. The day's
events were getting to him. He'd brought her here for a reason. All right, so
she was a couple of hours early. An eager beaver, then. Not his type, but
whatever. She wasn't here for his pleasure anyway.
She hadn't seen him shift, which meant he still had the
situation under complete control.
"I'm here." He moved to stand in front of her. Deidre's eyes
widened as her gaze swept over him to land on his cock, which was even with her
mouth.
She reached behind her and used the wide beams of the cross
to steady herself as she rose to her feet, but not before the tip of her tongue
snaked out to wet her lips. The reaction intrigued him. Perhaps this would be
even easier than he'd thought.
"You're." She gestured toward him. Her voice dropped to a
hushed whisper, as though they were in danger of being overheard. "Naked."
His lips quirked in amusement despite himself. "You
noticed."
She emitted an enigmatic little squeak, her gaze sliding
over his body once again, slower this time. She took him in with unabashed
curiosity, her stare leaving scorching heat in its wake. Suddenly, he was aware
of her scrutiny in a deep, primal way.
Overcome by an absurd need to please her, Greg stood up just
a little taller, thrusting his hips out a fraction, hoping she found his cock
as delectable to look at as he found her.
Because she was. absolutely mouthwatering. He'd never
thought to pay much attention to the paparazzi who hounded his days and nights,
and now he found himself regretting it.
The woman standing before him was stunning.
Full, deep-red lips were the highlight of her heart-shaped
face. Her skin was flawless, as pale as the marble surrounding his fireplace.
When she looked up at him, he caught a glimpse of blue eyes so deep as to be
almost violet in the firelight. Her nose was a tad too long for her face, but
only served to add a touch of mystery to an otherwise classically beautiful
visage.
And then there was her hair. Greg shook his head, not quite
knowing what to make of it. On impulse, he reached out and twirled a strand
around his index finger. Her head shot up and a gasp slid from her throat. He
ignored her, focusing on the wild mane framing her face.
Funky. That was the only word for it. Her hair was
long, reaching past her shoulders to hang in curly spirals almost halfway down
her back. Jet-black, it would have been exotic if it hadn't been dyed with
chunky streaks of flaming hot pink.
She saw him staring and bit her lip. "It's different."
He grunted something unintelligible. She was much too
intriguing for his liking. This morning, he'd thought he had her all figured
out. Selfish, oblivious to anyone else's needs but her own, she was the typical
money-hungry celebrity stalker. Yet now that he stood close enough to touch
her, he wasn't so sure.
Hating the uncertainty that tainted his purpose, he stepped
back from her, his gaze falling on her ankle for the first time. A grin spread
across his face. "You've got to be kidding me."
She clenched her jaw. "Release me. Then explain why you're
here." She glanced down at his cock again and cleared her throat. "The way you
are. And why do you keep wild animals in your home? Isn't that illegal?"
"I'm here because this is my house. As for the wolf, he
won't hurt you. I give you my word." He reached to his left and picked up a
coiled strand of rope from a hook in the wall.
"You said you'd be out. You made that very clear."
"Hmm." He twirled some of the rope around both palms,
snapping it tightly for effect. She tensed but made no move to back away from
him. "I must have lied."
A flush crept up her chest, drawing his attention to the
valley between her breasts. A red top with white polka dots encased her full
breasts, lifting them like a tempting offering. Unable to resist, he moved a
step closer to her. When she didn't attempt to back away, he shifted the rope
into his left hand and cupped one of her breasts with his right.
"What are you doing?"
A rush of arousal speared his groin. The perfect sphere felt
heavy and warm in his palm. He brushed the pad of his thumb over her distended
nipple. "I'm giving you what you want, Deidre."
"I -- no!" A quivering shudder rushed through her. The flush
intensified, tightening her nipple to the firmness of a little pebble.
"Oh?" Greg pressed closer to her, trapping her body between
his naked physique and the wooden cross. "You didn't think about trading places
with the woman in the photograph?"
She squirmed, turning her face away. "Nooo."
It was such a feeble attempt at a lie that he was laughing
before he could think better of it. The sound echoed hollowly off the walls, as
foreign to him as the woman before him. "Then why did you come here tonight?
Really?"
She pressed her lips together; that was answer enough.
"Do you know what happens to women who trespass on other
people's properties, Deidre?"
She shook her head vehemently, a quirky smile tilting one
side of her luscious mouth. "They're sent home with a pat on the ass?"
He laughed again, surprised by her ability to make wry quips
when she was completely at his mercy. "Not quite." He trailed his lips over the
side of her neck. She moaned, a husky sound that came from low in her throat.
He used the momentary distraction to loop the rope he still held around her
left wrist. "They're punished."
He completed the loop with a final tug through the knot he'd
created and yanked her arm up. A heartbeat later, he had her wrist secured to
the top of the wooden cross.
She struggled to break free, her breath coming in ragged
pants. "You can't do this!"
He brushed his mouth over hers lightly as she squirmed and
she stilled, every muscle in her body taut with tension.
"You're an intruder in my home. I can do whatever I want."