Dark Obsession

(Rapture Island 4)

Erotic Consensual BDSM Romantic Suspense, bondage, sex toys, HEA

Just as Leslie Carpenter began to get her life together, an assault sent her back to the helpless girl she used to be. Jordan King rescued her, and being with him made her realize just what kind of woman she wanted to be. Strong. Secure. Confident enough to handle a man like him. When her boss pressured her into a sexless marriage in order to conceal his homosexuality from voters, Leslie agreed, jumping at the chance to get Jordan the government contract he wanted so badly.

Furious that she’d married another man, Jordan vowed to get Leslie back, his rage at her growing as quickly as his love. But Leslie had found something he hadn’t given her—a chance to build her confidence. Seven years without Leslie wore on Jordan, and when the senator was murdered, he rushed to bring her home.

But the murderer needed something from Leslie, and he would go to any lengths to get it.


Jordan King looked like a man who could handle himself on the streets of her old neighborhood as well as he could in a boardroom.

Or a bedroom.

He murmured something to Thomas as he carried her into the elevator, and when the other man nodded, Jordan pushed the button with a sigh.

Lifting her head, she met his look of concern with a smile.

“I’m sorry you have to carry me.”

Her head dropped onto his shoulder again, her eyes fluttering closed no matter how hard she tried to keep them open.

“It’s no trouble. You’ve had a rough day. Once I get you settled in the spare bedroom, I’ll fix you some scrambled eggs.”

“You cook?”

She didn’t know why she was surprised.

Jordan King appeared to be the kind of man who could do anything he set his mind to.

“I had to learn.”

The ping of the elevator jerked her out of her light doze. Lifting her head, she looked up at him.


Striding into the apartment, Jordan glanced down at her, his eyes flat.

“Because my business partner was killed and I became his son’s ward. Growing teenagers are always hungry.”

“Oh.” She glanced around, taking in the sophisticated furnishings. “Is he here?”

Jordan’s lips twitched. “No. He’s on tour and then on to college.”

“Tour?” Her eyes kept closing, and it became harder and harder to open them again.

“He a magician.” He paused at the first doorway and opened the door. “Be still. I don’t want to bump your ankle.”


He sat her on the edge of what appeared to be a king-sized bed and turned on the bedside lamp.

“Do you have to use the bathroom?”

Surprised that he didn’t appear the least embarrassed to ask the question, Leslie smiled.

“No, thank you. The nurse helped me before I left. Thank you again for letting me stay here.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll go get one of my shirts for you to sleep in.”

Leslie nodded, looking down at her blood-stained and torn clothing. “Thank you. I’m sorry to be putting you to so much trouble.

He turned from the doorway with a smile. “No trouble at all, Leslie. I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he left, she stood on her uninjured foot, holding on to the bed as she worked what remained of her tattered pantyhose off.

She’d lost one shoe somehow, and the other had a broken heel, so she’d thrown it away in the emergency room.

Stiffening at the sound of voices coming from the living room, she turned toward the doorway, waiting for Jordan to appear again.

It was silent for several long seconds before he came through the doorway, this time carrying a button-down shirt and wearing a scowl.

He was also barefoot and shirtless.

Wide shoulders and clearly delineated muscles in his arms, chest, and abdomen had adrenaline pumping through her veins again, her mouth going dry.

Lifting her gaze to his, she burned under his steady stare.

“You shouldn’t be standing.” He rushed forward, tossing the shirt onto the bed and closing his hand on her uninjured upper arm. “Sit down before you fall. Now, Leslie.”

“I wanted to get rid of my pantyhose. I heard voices.” Sucking in a breath when he slid a knife from his pocket, Leslie backed away. “What are you doing?”

Jordan sighed. “Your shirt is ruined anyway, and it’ll be far less painful to cut it off of you than to try to work it off. Be still.”

With an efficiency she’d come to expect of him, he cut her shirt from her and tossed it aside.

He did the same with her blood-soaked bra, leaving her naked from the waist up.

With a cry, she rushed to cover herself, crying out again at the pull to her arm.

With a curse, Jordan closed the knife and slid it back into his pocket. “For God’s sake, Leslie, I’m not going to attack you. Your bra had blood all over it. Don’t put that shirt on yet. I’ll get you a towel to cover yourself until I can wash the blood off.”

When he disappeared into the adjoining bathroom, Leslie covered her breasts with her good arm, wincing at the pain in her other side.

Lifting the arm covering her breasts to look down at herself, she sucked in a breath when she saw that a large bruise had formed on her ribcage where her attacker had slammed her against the wall.

“Look at you.” Jordan came back into the room with a bowl of steaming water, a bottle of shower gel, a towel, and a washcloth, his bare feet silent on the thick carpet.

Even his feet were beautiful.

She hurriedly covered herself again, her sense of vulnerability increasing when he set the bowl on the floor and knelt in front of her.

“I can do it.”

Jordan bent to examine the large bruise, a muscle working in his jaw.

“I doubt that very much. Damn it, Leslie, you’re a mess.”

He wet the washcloth and squirted some of the gel onto it. “I know you don’t know me, but I’ve been nothing but gentle with you. I have no plans to hurt you. I just want to get you cleaned up and comfortable. You’ll sleep better once you’re clean, have some food in your stomach, and in about an hour, you can take a pain pill and a dose of your antibiotic.”

Feeling extremely vulnerable, she met his gaze and reached out her other hand for the washcloth.

“I can do it.”

Looking into her eyes, he smiled faintly.

“The longer you want to fight this, the longer it’ll be before I help you into that shirt. Now, be still so I can wash this blood off of you.”

Lowering her arm again, Leslie frowned.

“You’re awfully bossy.”

Watching her eyes, Jordan gently lifted her injured arm. “Baby, you have no idea.”