Page 58 of Unlawful Seduction

Then I read the titles.

BDSM for Dummies?

“What?” I threw a look up at him.

He chuckled as he headed for the bar. “Yep. Keep going.”

The other book was on the correct way of tying rope or something. How sexy was that? Not. Even though I bent down, the shadows prevented me from seeing anything before pulling it out. As my fingers wrapped around something cold, I had a very bad feeling about what I’d find.

The man was laughing at me. He was laughing full out, as if the funniest thing in the world had just occurred. Granted, I was holding handcuffs in my hand. Big silver handcuffs with no red fuzzy fur to be found.

“Who were these people?” I asked, more exasperated than I should be. I wasn’t a prude by any means, but I’d simply never felt comfortable enough to try anything so… strange. Kinky. Maybe I’d never met the right man. A series of shudders tore through me.

He made a drink and stood with his butt on the edge of the bar, watching me as if enjoying a comedy on television. I gave him a nasty look and continued feeling. This time, my fingers wrapped around something long and slender.

Almost as soon as the light hit my find, I knew I’d regret pulling it out. “What is this?”

He sauntered closer, as if he had all the time in the world and was enjoying every moment of my discomfort. “That is a cane.”

“For?”

“A spanking. What do you think? A savage act of disciplining a submissive who’s forgotten her rules, and disobeyed her master.”

I held it out and tried not to react to his taunting words. “That’s not nice and certainly not funny.”

“Who said I was trying to be funny?” He whisked the cane from my hand and turned it over, obviously admiring it. “A fine piece of craftsmanship. Birch and perfect for what it’s used for.”

“Are you trying to be unlawfully seductive?”

“Who says anything about this is unlawful? That’s ridiculous. This is… art personified.” He caressed the cane with his other hand.

I remained rooted to where I was, fascinated by the way he was kneading the thin reed almost in a loving manner. It could be considered an insight to the man or maybe he was pulling my leg.

“You’re a fascinating man.”

“Fascinating. My guess is you’ve used other words, perhaps when spending time with your friends?”

As he’d done before, he was goading me. I shoved every game back into the cabinet with the exception of Monopoly and very gingerly shoved the handcuffs and books on top before closing the doors and rising to my feet.

We were nowhere near the same height, the man towering over me by at least eight inches. However, I did my best to glare him right in the eye by rising onto my tiptoes. “Yes, we have, although my friends did think you were hot.”

“What about you?” He put his drink down onto the bookshelf, still toying with the damn cane and my gut told me he was contemplating using it.

On me.

Hell, no.

“Not even close.” When I turned away to move the game onto the coffee table, he gripped my arm just like he’d done earlier in his office. I shouldn’t enjoy being manhandled, but his hold was so possessive it created a series of intense shivers. And they had nothing to do with the cold temperatures or the blanket of white covering the ground for as far as the eye could see.

He had a way of igniting a portion of me I hadn’t even known existed. Or maybe I’d been successful in crushing the deepest part of longing a woman could feel.

There was no malice in his gaze or any intention of harming me. There was only as much burning desire as I’d felt.

He kept the firm hold, teasing me by running the thin rod across my chest. The cane was too long to easily use the tip to taunt me, but he managed to swirl the side around one nipple then the other. Instantly, they were both hard as pebbles, my breath skipping from what he was doing.

His breathing was as labored as mine, but he was in full control of his actions and emotions, refusing to give away anything he was thinking or feeling. I wished I could be that way, yet it wasn’tin the cards for me. I’d been told more than once that I wore my emotions on my sleeve. This afternoon was no exception.

“There is a real art form to using something so finely crafted as a cane,” he told me seconds later after I was already wet, my pulse racing.

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