Make Me Risk It by Beth Kery

his cock growing heavier and achier with each pass of the rope. By the time he’d finished binding her legs, a sheen of sweat had broken out on his upper lip and abdomen. He always loved the process of roping a woman firmly and artistically, finding it an explicit slow build.
    But there was
nothing
slow about tying Harper up, though. It was hot, spiking torture from the get-go.

Keep reading for an excerpt from WHEN I’M WITH YOU, Beth Kery’s blistering novel of a man and a woman bound by the scandalous secrets of the past—and by the sexual hunger that still fuels their uncontrollable desires . . . Available now from Berkley.

 
    It was past midnight when Lucien opened the rear entrance to his restaurant and immediately went on high alert, hushing his movements. An intruder had breached his restaurant’s security. In the distance, he heard the sound of a low male voice. Although Fusion was frequently bustling with the chic, late-night dinner and nightclub crowd, it was closed on Sunday and Monday. There definitely shouldn’t be anyone inside. Quietly, he closed the rear door, fist tightening around the polo mallet he carried. He’d been planning on replacing this cracked mallet with an intact one from his storage closet at Fusion. He had different plans for it now.
    For the most part, Lucien maintained the vaguely amused, cynical stance of an experienced, world-weary libertine, a man who claimed no family, no country, no creed, and few of the worldly possessions to which he was entitled by law, which were many. But what he
did
claim, he fought for. Always. He just hadn’t realized that the restaurant he’d recently bought had gotten so deeply into his bones until that very moment, when he was ready to do battle for it.
    He eased down the dim hallway, following the glow of a light shining around a partially closed door that led to the large bar area of the restaurant. He turned his head, his hearing pitched. A tingle went down his spine at the sound of female laughter. A man’s low chuckle twined with it—rough and intimate. He heard the unmistakable sound of glassware clinking, as if in a toast.
    Lucien approached the door and leaned his head into the crack.
    “Why do you play games with me?” he heard a man ask.
    “Who says I’m playing games?”
    Lucien’s escalated heartbeat seemed to hesitate for a moment at the woman’s voice. Strange. She was from the country of his birth. The female’s tone was teasing and light, her French accent laced with a British tinge. Perhaps he recognized it because it was very similar to his own.
    “You
are
taunting me,” the man said roughly. “You have been all night. Not just me. There wasn’t a man in that restaurant tonight who wasn’t bewitched by you.”
    “I’m actually being very cautious,” the woman said lightly. “We are going to work together, after all.”
    “I want more than just to work with you. I want to help you. I want you in my house . . . my bed.”
    Lucien went from high alert to irritated in a second flat when he recognized the man speaking. He hadn’t interrupted a burglary on his premises.
    He’d walked in on a seduction.
    Disgusted, he pushed open the door and strode into the dimly lit, luxurious restaurant. The couple stood next to the shining mahogany bar facing one another, their hands curled around brandy snifters. As he approached, the woman backed away slightly from the hovering man. Distantly, he registered that she wore a midnight blue evening gown that clung to full, firm breasts and taut curves. The dress plunged in the back, revealing a profile glimpse of white, flawless skin that shone luminous in the soft lighting. The vision of Mario Vincente’s hand splayed across that expanse of bare skin inexplicably ratcheted up Lucien’s irritation to anger. The extremely talented chef Lucien had hired from a top-rated restaurant in Las Vegas was a bit of a diva. Mario didn’t notice Lucien until he was just a feet away.