“Please remove your coat,” Hannah says in a formal voice. She’s already hung hers on a stand by the front door. “If you could also remove your shoes and socks, that would be most helpful.”

The clipped, efficient tone makes me smile. I bend and untie my dress shoes, toeing them off and removing my socks, as instructed. She hangs my coat next to hers and when she walks back to me, she’s holding a tie in her hands. It looks to be made of the same fluffy white material as a bathrobe.

“I’m going to blindfold you now, so we can begin.” She waits a moment and I give her a quick nod, letting her know it’s okay to proceed.

I’ve always known Hannah to be a take-charge kind of woman, and it thrills me to know it transfers to the bedroom. I love being in charge, too, but there’s something insanely hot about a woman who wants to take pleasure into her own hands. Tonight, I am willing to be her test subject—to play this role and revel in whatever that mysterious brain of hers has planned.

She wraps the blindfold over my eyes, tying it in a secure knot behind my head. And then nothing. I can’t detect her movement, because the plush carpet absorbs the sound of her stilettos.

She makes me wait.

The seconds tick by and my desire grows like a storm, swirling and building, rising until it fills me completely. When her soft touch brushes the front of my pants, I’m hard as stone and aching for her.

“Ready?” she asks, her lips brushing my ear.

“I’ve never been readier.”

We’ve both waited a long time for this.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Owen

ITDOESN’TTAKElong for the blindfold to work its magic. In seconds, I feel my other senses ramping up to accommodate for my lost sight. The gentle kiss of cool air is amplified where my collar sits open, and it’s so quiet I can hear thepitter patterof rain against the windows. I smell the rain, too—in her hair as she moves around me, mingling with whatever fruity shampoo she uses. I’m driven immediately to the edge of sensation, to the edge of wanting.

There’s a tug at my shirt. She’s undoing my buttons...slowly. I sense her teasing through the way she pops each one open with an agonising pace.

“You must be doing well to afford such a fancy hotel room,” she says, tracing the V of skin at my chest with her fingertip. But the sensual touch does little to hide the curiosity in her voice. The question, no matter how it’s posed as part of this role play, is genuine.

“I’m doing well, but money doesn’t make the man.”

“It certainly doesn’t,” she murmurs. She works her way to the last of the buttons and then pulls the hem free. “Money doesn’t buy decency.”

I know the opposite is more likely—money is the reason I have no family. Money is what caused them to be taken from me. “Greed brings out the worst in us.”

I would have burned all my parents left me if I’d been allowed. A teenager—blinded by rage and grief—has no use for zeros in a bank account. Because whatever future they might have secured—education and houses and finery—means nothing to an orphan who only wants his parents back.

“I’m feeling a little greedy now.” Her hands toy with the buckle at my waist. “Is that so bad?”

“This is totally different.” Andthisgreed, I can handle.

The buckle makes a metallicchinkas she yanks the leather through the loops on my suit pants. The sound of my zipper being undone slashes through the quiet air—through my thoughts. I’m about to embark on a hot night with a woman I’ve wanted for a long time. I need to get my head out of the past.

As if sensing my need to retreat from this conversation, Hannah says, “I’m going to strip you completely. Then we’re going to see how you respond to different stimuli.”

“Like what?” The anticipation is a fist around my cock. I’m desperate for more, desperate to see what she has planned.

“I can’t tell you that. I need to measure the...strength of your response.” Her voice is low and husky.

She shoves my pants down my legs, dragging my boxer briefs with them, and helps me free. I’m totally naked now, and knowing that she’s fully dressed makes this even hotter. My cock bobs up against my stomach, hard as concrete and oh-so-ready for her. But after a few seconds of nothing, I realise that Hannah has disappeared.

The silence is broken by the click of her heels over tile—has she gone into the kitchenette or the bathroom? I don’t know the layout well enough to tell. There’s a brief rushing of water, a dull, metallic sound and then that damn clicking again. I let myself dwell in the vision of her legs in those heels. Hannah is muscular—always devoted to stamina and speed. And her daily runs haven’t been interrupted by this case. She gets up at the crack of dawn every morning without fail.

I know the purpose of her runs aren’t for physical appearance, but there’s no denying the activity has given her shapely legs and a firm ass. Both of which have been on my mind since our kiss in the garden.

I wonder where she is now. The clicking has stopped, and the robe tie is a surprisingly effective blindfold. I need to relieve a little of the tension, and I hesitate only a moment before reaching down to wrap a fist around my cock. I don’t think I’ve been this hard in years. Never mind the fact I lost my taste for casual sex some time ago. But this...is not that.

Not casual. Not meaningless.