“Sounds good to me.” Hell, it sounded like freaking paradise. And her hands drifting from his stomach to the Little General felt even better.

But instead of wrapping around his hard length, her hand skimmed past to gently cup and fondle his balls. Air hissed through his teeth, and any blood that had been keeping the rest of his body functioning immediately gave up the fight and headed straight for his groin.

“What about room service?” he grated, since she didn’t seem inclined to follow through with her suggestion.

“You dial,” she said in a sultry, brown-sugar voice. “I have a feeling I’ll be hungry, so order me one of everything.”

He started to lower his arm, wondering briefly how it had gotten over his head to begin with. He didn’t remember gripping the headboard, only stroking Jenna’s shoulders and arms.

She chose that moment to scoot back even farther and lower her head until her lips grazed the tip of his cock. A shock of electricity rolled down his dick and flashed like lightning through the rest of his system.

“I’m not sure I’m going to be able to dial, let alone talk, with your mouth on me.”

“Mmm.” She parted her lips a fraction and let her tongue dart out to lick his sensitive flesh. “That could be a problem. Maybe we should wait until after we’ve eaten to participate in more… interesting activities.”

But instead of stopping, instead of pulling away, she opened her mouth even wider and engulfed him by a full inch.

Though he didn’t know how he retained the ability to speak, he managed a wobbly, “I like the sound of that.”

Tugging once more at his arm, he tried to touch her face, tried to run his fingers through her hair, but his hand wouldn’t budge.

He frowned. What the hell was going on? Why couldn’t he move his right arm?

He gave up on the right and tried to lift the left. Same problem. Same dogged resistance.

Okay, this was getting ridiculous.

He rolled his head on the pillow, first to one side, then to the other, in an effort to see what was holding him back. There was something there, he knew it, but his eyes wouldn’t seem to focus. And the more he tried to clear his vision, the worse it got.

He returned his gaze to Jenna, who still hovered above him. Their surroundings were different now, though. He could no longer hear the waves lapping outside the open balcony door or smell the fresh scent of the island breeze. The four walls surrounding him didn’t look like those of the hotel room where they’d honeymooned, but were darker, plainer, and closing in on him.

Mind searching for an explanation, he turned his attention back to Jenna. Something felt strange. Wrong. And suddenly Jenna didn’t just look sexy, wanton, and desirable, she also looked… guilty.

“What did you do?” he asked, brows knitting as the words came out slurred. “What did you do?”

Jenna didn’t know whether to continue or run off in a panic. The pills in the beer had worked just the way Grace said they would, but now Gage seemed to be coming around.

On the one hand, that was good-it meant he would be more physically able to respond to her touch.

Not that she had much doubt about him in that respect; she knew Gage’s body well enough to know he could be in a coma and would still likely react to her caressing his junk.

On the other hand, being awake and lucid meant he might begin to put two and two together, figure out what she was up to… and take the house apart in a blind rage. She’d seen Gage angry before-never at her, thank goodness-and it hadn’t been pretty. But she knew his strength, and she knew he wouldn’t take kindly to being tricked or manipulated.

Swallowing hard, she ignored the trickle of self-consciousness that niggled at her and double-checked the ties at his wrists.

“I didn’t do anything,” she lied in what she hoped was a soothing, believable whisper. “Now relax, the fun is just beginning.”

He shook his head where it rested on the white pillow, his arms pinned above him, tied to either side of the headboard with a couple of her hand-knit boas. One of them was purple and not quite finished, started with the homespun alpaca yarn Aunt Charlotte had given her before leaving. The other, and the two binding his ankles to the footboard, were ones she’d brought along from home. Grace had helped her set them up and then tuck them unobtrusively under the bedding before taking off with Ronnie, so that all Jenna had to do after drugging Gage and luring him into the bedroom was secure him with the already prepared restraints.

It all felt so bad and manipulative and… wrong to Jenna on several levels, but she and Grace and Ronnie had discussed the situation ad nauseum, with no other solution coming to mind. Add to that the nearly two years of wishing, dreaming, regretting, and basically circling around to the very same conclusion…

This might not make her a good person, but it was what she had to do in order to move on with her life rather than wallowing in sadness and regret for the next fifty years.

With that thought firmly in mind, she took a deep breath and moved on to the task of stripping them both bare. She started with herself, crossing her arms over her abdomen and lifting her blouse off over her head. Then she did the same with her long, flowing skirt, because it was easier than shifting around to get it down and off past her feet.

She sat back, perched on Gage’s denim-clad knees in only a conservative white bra and panty set. It had been so long since they’d been together-so long since she’d been with anyone-that even just the act of undressing felt awkward and naughty.

But naughty in a good way. She could feel the blood turning thick and warm in her veins, and her nipples were beginning to bud inside the padded cups of her bra.

It should be just like riding a bike, though, right? Climb on, grab the handlebars, and start peddling. How hard could it be?

Glancing up into Gage’s face, she noticed that his lips were pressed into a flat line and his intense brown gaze was locked on her. “What are you doing?” he grated.

Oh, he was awake now. Whatever effect the pills had had on him, they’d obviously run their course, leaving him wide-eyed and alert. Wary, but alert.

Tugging the tail of his shirt from the waistband of his jeans, she pushed the soft cotton upwards, revealing the gorgeous expanse of his broad, tanned chest inch by luscious inch. Since his hands were sort of… otherwise occupied… there was no way to remove the shirt without untying him, so she settled for slipping it over his head and leaving it there, caught at the back of his neck and under his arms.

It wasn’t ideal, but it would do. The same as leaving his pants bunched around his ankles would have to do.

Hmm. Perhaps she should have thought this through a bit more before tying him to the bedposts. Either that, or stripped him naked beforehand, leaving only her own nudity to worry about.

“Don’t be angry,” she told him in a hushed voice. “I know this is a little unusual, but it’s the only way I felt safe inviting you over here.”

Her fingers moved to his belt, releasing it and the top button of his jeans before slowly sliding down the tab of his zipper. Dragging the thick denim past his hips was made more difficult by his spread-eagle position, but she didn’t let that stop her. A good yank did it, and she was able to shimmy them down his legs to bunch around his calves.

The thin material of his black boxer briefs didn’t leave much to the imagination, and she could clearly see that he was interested in what she was doing to him-or at least his body was. Not throbbing, frothing, fire-poker interested, but not impervious, which made her feel a little better about the entire situation.