Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down (Vikings Underground #2)(6)
Author: Sherrilyn Kenyon

He laughed. “True, but I thought I should at least kiss you before you see me nak*d.” He opened the car door. “Night, Rhea.”

“Night, Ace.”

He got out and slammed the door shut, then got into his Viper.

Rhea watched as he buckled himself in. He paused to give her a devilish grin before he squealed out of the parking space and headed for the entrance.

Her body still on fire from the passion of that kiss, she followed him out of the lot at a much more subdued pace even though a part of her was racing even more than he was.

“It’s just a kiss.”

But it had been a great one.

And tomorrow she really would see him nak*d…

Ace pulled his black Viper into Rhea’s driveway. He still couldn’t believe he was going to do this. He should actually thank Bender for being such a sick bastard since Bender was the one finally giving him a way to get close to Rhea.

God help him, but he’d been in love with her since the first time he’d seen her. And she had shined him on without a second glance.

Unused to having to beg or fight for a woman’s attention, Ace had walked away, wishing he knew of something to make her attracted to him. She’d always been so reserved toward him, if not downright nasty. No matter what he tried, it always seemed to be the wrong thing with her.

Until last night.

His lips still sizzled from her kiss. His body burned from the thought of having her tie him up…

You’re a sick man yourself, Ace.

No, he was a desperate one. There had always been something about Rhea that set his entire body on fire. It was why he’d bribed Hunter to change cubes with him in the office. Hunter had pretended that being under the air vent was messing with his allergies. So Ace had “volunteered” to take his desk.

It had been the best and worst $3,000 he’d ever spent. The best because it forced Rhea to acknowledge him when he was in the office. The worst because being so close to her was complete torture.

Ace pulled off his sunglasses and set them in the passenger seat.

It was the moment of truth.

Getting out, he slammed the door shut and sauntered up the driveway when what he really wanted to do was sprint. But the last thing he wanted was for Rhea to know just how badly he wanted her.

No, coolness would win this. Or if not, it would at least save his dignity.

Rhea saw Ace leave his car and saunter with that masculine, predatory lope toward her front door. He looked totally edible as he came closer to her lair.

Yes, he was sexy. Yes, he was hot, but she wasn’t about to play into that overinflated ego of his. She had to be cool and dispassionate about wanting to take a bite out of that man. She should never have spent time with him last night. Somehow, he’d actually become human to her and not a total scumbag. A tiny part of her was even starting not only to like him, but respect him as well.

He knocked on her door.

Rhea clenched and unclenched her fists, then shook them in an effort to calm down. She had to get a grip on herself. Quick.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door to find Ace standing there with one hip cocked and a seductive smile on his face.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said.

“Morning.” Rhea stepped back to let him enter.

He gave her that wicked, charming smile. “Now this is where in Hollywood they would cue ‘Bad to the Bone’ to play as I entered your house.”

Rhea rolled her eyes. “Oh, please! Ace, you’re so bad.”

“To the bone, baby,” he sang.

“Stop that!”

He didn’t, instead, he broke into a perfect rendition of George Thorogood. The man really did have a great voice.

Rhea closed her door. “All right, I get it.”

He didn’t stop; worse, he literally pinned her to the door and held her trapped between the wood and his long, lush body. He lowered his tone so that he could sing in her ear without causing her pain. His voice was low and sultry and it reverberated though her.

The pain came not from his body pressing against hers or her voice ringing in her ears, it came from the deep-seated ache at the core of her body that throbbed with a piercing need for him.

“I want to be yours, pretty baby, yours and yours alone.”

That sounded too good to be true and she knew that things that seemed to be too good, always were.

“Should I get my saxophone?” she asked, trying to get her thoughts on something other than him being nak*d in her arms.

That succeeded in breaking his song. “You got one?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Cool. Can you play?”

He still hadn’t moved back and she couldn’t move away without brushing even more of her body up against his.

If she did that, she’d be lost, as badly as she wanted him. There was no way she could feel all that hard, lean muscle and not kiss him again.

Or do something she might later regret.

She cleared her throat before she answered his question. “Not well, but I can hammer out a few notes now and again that don’t make the neighborhood dogs bark.”

He laughed as he lifted up one hand to play with a stray black curl of her hair. She had to force herself not to lean her head forward the few inches it would take to bury her nose in the hollow of his throat and just inhale his spiced, manly scent.

Or better yet, lick that tawny skin that covered the hot tendon in his neck….

“In that case, I need to introduce you to my little brother, Aramis. He used to torture his guitar to the point I sold it for a dollar to our gardener.”

“You did not!”

“Yeah, I did. Still have my father’s handprint on my butt to prove it. Want to see?”

Rhea snorted at him even though the offer was extremely tempting. “Why does everything have to get back to me seeing you nak*d?”

He smiled at her. “Ulterior motives.”

The worst part was that Rhea really did want to see what he kept hidden under those clothes. She’d spent many hours last night after their kiss wondering how much of his ego was boasting and how much was true.

He dipped his head down to nuzzle her cheek.

For a full second, she couldn’t move as she savored the feel of him there. But somewhere in the back of her mind, warning bells went off.

“Would you like some coffee or juice?” she asked, pushing him away before she headed toward her kitchen. Yowza, but he had a hard body. Just the brief contact of her hand on his chest was enough to let her know he was built of solid muscle.

Disappointment flashed across his face, only to be quickly replaced by a grim determination. “Juice would be great.” He followed after her and took a seat at her breakfast counter while she went to her fridge.

She could feel his gaze on her body. Turning her head, she saw confirmation. He was staring at her butt as if he were caressing her in his mind. Her entire body burned.

Rhea almost dropped the juice. Tightening her grip, she pretended to ignore him and went to get a glass. “So your brother is named Aramis, huh? Your dad must have been in The Three Musketeers.”

“Yes, and Aramis is grateful every day of his life that Dad didn’t double for Christopher Lee.”

“Why?”

“He played Rochefort.”

She laughed as she poured the juice. “Yeah, I can see where that might be bad. But had your father doubled for Michael York, Aramis would be D’Artagnan. That could have been cool.” She handed him his juice.

“Maybe,” Ace said before he took a sip. “But no one would ever be able to spell it.”

The doorbell rang.

Grateful for the interruption, Rhea put the juice back in the fridge. “That must be our instructor.”

She headed back to the door, unsure of what to expect. The woman’s name was Beullah Mueller, and for some reason she pictured an extremely rigid German woman who looked like the gym teacher from the movie Porky’s, complete with hair rolled into sausages around her head.

The reality was worse.

“Hi,” the woman said, not in a German-accented voice, but in a normal American one.

“Beullah?” Rhea asked, unsure if this was the right woman.

Surely not.

Around the age of forty-five, the woman in front of her was of average height, slender, and was dressed in pink designer sweats. She had a large, navy blue gym bag slung over her shoulder. Something about her reminded Rhea of Meredith Baxter-Birney from Family Ties.

She looked wholesome and sweet.

Beullah smiled warmly. “I know. I look like someone’s middle-aged mother and not a dominatrix instructor. But in my day…I have to tell you, I have whipped many a man’s ass and enjoyed it thoroughly.”

There was something extremely incongruous about that coming out of the mouth of a woman who looked as if she ought to be in a peanut butter commercial.

“Okay,” Rhea said, stepping back to let the woman in. “I don’t suppose I want to ask how it is Tee knew to call you, do I?”

“We go to the same spa and health club. I have to tell you that Tee is something else. She bends like a pretzel.”

“Oh, jeez, now there’s an image I want burned out of my memory. I’ll never be able to look Tee in the eye again,” Ace said as he joined them.

Beullah smiled. “You must be Ace. Tee told me to give you an extra hard time.”

“I’m sure she did, just as I’m sure you will.”

Rhea had to admit she didn’t like the way Beullah was looking at Ace, like a starving woman staring at a steak.

Beullah waltzed into the living room and placed her bag on the coffee table. “Tee said she liked the two of you a lot and that you were ready to get more adventurous in your relationship, so here I am.”

“Pardon?” Rhea asked.

Beullah waved her hand. “Oh, don’t be bashful. I’ve worked with lots of couples who have gotten bored with the missionary position and are looking for new ways to spice up their sex. I had this couple once who started out normal as pie, and the next thing I knew, they had more body piercings than Marilyn Manson and Christina Aguilera combined. He really liked feeling the cat-o’-nine-tails whip across his pe—”

“TMI,” Ace said quickly, cutting her off. “Way too much information for me.”

Rhea agreed completely, but couldn’t resist teasing him. “I don’t know, Ace. That sounds like fun. Sure you don’t want to give it a try?”

“Nothing painful comes near the area,” he said, indicating his entire groin. “Nothing.”

“Now, now,” Beullah said as she unzipped her bag. “You two have to learn to trust each other. That’s rule number one about being a couple. If you’re to have a healthy relationship, you have to learn to express your needs and fears to each other without dread or inhibition.”

So that was the story Tee was using for this. Rhea and Ace were supposed to be a couple wanting to add spice to their sex life. Nice lie. Tee could have filled them in on it first.

“Well,” Rhea said wistfully, “you know how it goes. Even the hottest piece of cheese eventually goes bad. I never thought I’d get bored with Ace, but look at him…My cheddar turned into Gouda on me.”

“Hey, I resent that.” Ace’s tone was offended. “I’m not the prude here. You’re the one who walks around in shirts buttoned all the way up to your nose and pants or long skirts. You know it wouldn’t hurt you to wear a miniskirt and low-cut blouse once in a while.”

Rhea arched her brow at that. Ace had been paying attention to her clothes. Who knew?

“Now, now,” Beullah said in a voice that held the full authority of a woman used to being in charge. “There’s no need in blaming each other. Two days with me and you two will know all there is to know about how to make each other beg for your attention.”

She opened her bag wider and searched through plastic bags. “You,” she said to Ace. “Take off your clothes.”

He went completely stiff. “Bullshit.”

Beullah pulled out a whip. “Take off your clothes, slave. Now.”

“No.”

She snapped the whip at Ace, who caught it without flinching when it wrapped itself around his forearm. “Whips don’t do it for me, baby. I’m not a lion and you’re not going to tame me like one.” He jerked the whip out of her hands.

Beullah looked at him with a newfound respect. She glanced over to Rhea. “You certainly have your hands full, huh?”

“You’ve no idea.”

Beullah retrieved her whip.

“C’mon, Ace,” Rhea said. “Time to play.”

He growled low in his throat before he started unbuttoning his shirt.

Beullah smiled approvingly. “That’s it, Rhea. You have to take charge of your slave and show him who’s boss.” Beullah unzipped her sweatshirt top.

Rhea’s eyes bulged as she realized that beneath that average outfit, Beullah wore a leather corset that had studded metal cups that covered her br**sts.

Beullah acted as if there were nothing unusual about her state of dress. “First thing you have to do, Rhea, is get used to your role as mistress. You need to be completely comfortable in this.”