what’s more, they would never have the opportunity to. He would have always been in control and at a distance. That’s why he likes his rules.He climbs off me and bends to give me a quick peck on the lips. Then he stands and lifts his shirt over his head. He undoes his jeans and drops them to the oor. He is gloriously naked. My inner goddess is doing a triple axel dismount off the un-even bars, and abruptly my mouth is dry. He really is beyond beautiful. He has a physique drawn on classical lines: broad muscular shoulders, narrow hips, the inverted triangle. He obviously works out. I could look at him all day. He moves to the end of the bed and grasps my ankles, pulling me swiftly and sharply downward so that my arms are stretched out and unable to move.“That’s better,” he mutters.Picking up the tub of ice cream, he climbs smoothly back onto the bed to straddle me once more. Very slowly, he peels off the lid of the tub and dips the spoon in.“Hmm . . . it’s still quite hard,” he says with a raised brow. Scooping out a spoonful of the vanilla, he pops it into his mouth. “Delicious,” he murmurs, licking his lips. “Amazing how good plain old vanilla can taste.” He gazes down at me and smirks. “Want some?” he teases.He looks so freaking hot, young and carefree—sitting on me and eating from a tub of ice cream—eyes bright, face luminous. Oh what the hell is he going to do to me? As if I can’t tell. I nod, shyly.He scoops out another spoonful and offers me the spoon, so I open my mouth, then he quickly pops it in his mouth again.“This is too good to share,” he says, smiling wickedly.“Hey,” I start in protest.“Why, Miss Steele, do you like your vanilla?”“Yes,” I say more forcefully than I mean and try in vain to buck him off.He laughs. “Getting feisty, are we? I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”“Ice cream,” I plead.“Well, as you’ve pleased me so much today, Miss Steele.” He relents and offers me another spoonful. This time he lets me eat it. I want to giggle. He’s really enjoying himself, and his good humor is infectious. He scoops another spoonful and feeds me some more, then he does it again. Okay, enough.“Hmm, well, this is one way to ensure you eat—force-feed you. I could get used to this.”Taking another spoonful, he offers me more. This time I keep my mouth shut and shake my head, and he lets it slowly melt on the spoon so that the melted ice cream drips, onto my throat, onto my chest. He dips down and very slowly licks it off. My body lights up with longing.“Mmm. Tastes even better off you, Miss Steele.”I pull against my restraints and the bed creaks ominously, but I don’t care—I’m burn-ing with desire, it’s consuming me. He takes another spoonful and lets the ice cream dribble onto my breasts. Then with the back of the spoon, he spreads it over each breast and nipple. Oh . . . it’s cold. Each nipple peaks and hardens beneath the cool of the vanilla.