Page 37 of Bedding his Innocent Mistress

A card was on top of black gauze.

Wear this tonight. Only this. And bring the rest. 8pm. And Ivy, you will be staying over because you’ll be too exhausted to move.

So far as romance went, it was non-existent. Good.

She frowned, pulling the black fabric out and gasping as a seriously skimpy and sexy negligee emerged. It was all transparent black lace, and she could tell just by looking at it that it would only just cover her bottom.

Mmm, she thought. Perhaps.

She bit down on her lip as she reached back into the box and her fingers gripped something cold and hard.

She lifted it and froze.

Handcuffs.

And not flimsy novelty ones, either. These were hardcore, impossible to break free of, police-grade cuffs. She pulled at them with a sense of growing awareness, and then stuffed them back in the box. They made a sound as they chinked against something else.

Something metallic.

Her frown deepened as she reached in and now two little clothes pegs came out, with gem-stones dangling from either end. Strange. What could they be for?

Wishing Lisette was there to ask, and also incredibly relieved she wasn’t, Ivy stuffed it all back into the box and carried it hastily up to her room. The Thames glistened beyond her little dormer window – the window Steve had used to love to look out of. She barely saw it. Her heart was thrilling.

Did he expect her to balk at whatever kinky night he had planned?

Ivy grinned.

Far from it. She couldn’t wait…

*

She stood at his door, so excited she could burst. The negligee was on, and she’d worn nothing else, just a beige trench coat she’d borrowed from Lisette and a pair of stilettos. The handcuffs and pegs were in a beaded black clutch she’d brought.

Adrenalin pumped in her veins as the ocean at high tide.

He wrenched the door inwards, his eyes dropped instantly to her coat.

She stepped into the apartment and, before he could untether it, she did so, pushing it apart and letting it drop to the ground. She stood before him in a dress that made her more visible than if she were naked. The intricate swirls of the fabric drew attention to her breasts in a way that was impossible not to stare at.

“Even better on.” The words were hoarse. He circled his finger in the air and she spun, sexy, womanly confidence making her emboldened to strut through his apartment a little way, then spin and move back to him.

“Stop,” he commanded. “Did you bring the other things?”

“Yeah. What are these pegs?” She murmured, reaching into her clutch and pulling them out.

“Oh, they’re not pegs.” He took them from her and, before she could fathom what was about to happen, he clipped them over her nipples. They worked a little like the old-fashioned clip-on earrings Nanny Anderson had worn, that Ivy had occasionally tried on. For a few minutes they were fine, but the longer she’d kept them in place, the more the pain had become an actual thing. She was guessing these worked on the same principal.

“Seriously?” She asked, her eyes meeting his.

For a second something in his expression shifted, softened, and then he was back. The tycoon she’d first met. That she occasionally forgot he was, because he became, simply Rafe to her.

“How can you run a major online news app and not know what nipples clamps are?”

“I guess our x-rated news buy is down,” she retorted, spurred to defensiveness by the implied condescension in his question.

“This looks fantastic on you,” he said, his voice gravelled and de

ep as he swerved the conversation away.

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