“Aren’t you a bright ray of sunshine? Do you kick kittens as a hobby?” Kerry cocked her head. “I’d hoped that time to cool down would make you more civilized. I guess not.”

  She’d taken him from his life and job, bound him at ankle and wrist like some damned sacrifice, and she expected him to be civilized about it? “Where are you from, Planet Unrealistic?”

  “I’ll come back later when you’ve had more time to—”

  “No!”

  Round one to Kerry. He couldn’t take any more boredom. Besides, the longer he was tied up and left alone, the less likely he could escape. And the less likely he could take her down . . . or touch her. Unfortunately for him, those two needs both ate at him.

  Much as he hated it, he was going to have to rein in his temper and play her game. Otherwise, escape would be next to impossible.

  Rafe sighed. “I will try not to snap at you.”

  Kerry nodded. She should be relieved, but watching her captive lounging, mouthwatering and half-naked, filled her with several feelings. Relief wasn’t one of them. Lord, she could barely think with her gaze roving the hard width of his bronzed chest and abs that put a six-pack to shame. The sight of him awake, tousled, and tied to the bed gave her ideas she’d never before imagined and simply couldn’t afford. And all the while, Rafe kept his eyes glued to her, like he remembered . . .

  Kerry looked away, focusing on the French doors—anything to gather her wits so she didn’t drool on the man.

  “Kerry?”

  That whiskey voice of his sent a shiver down her spine. She swallowed and turned back to him too eagerly. “Yes.”

  “Look at me for a minute.”

  Her gaze flipped to his, startled by his request. He knew what looking at him did to her blood pressure. He had to know. And stupidly, she played right into his hands, staring a path from his dark eyes, down to linger on his decadent mouth, then lower again to touch those enticing pectorals that made her want to caress him all over.

  Get a grip. Kerry sighed, raised a hand to the chain suspended between her collarbones. Was her hand actually trembling? She toyed with the dangling handcuff key, an increasingly nervous habit.

  “Yes?” she croaked.

  Rafe watched, devoured her all the while with his dark eyes. Kerry swung the key back and forth on its chain faster as a fresh rush of heat suffused her, along with a tingling his nearness inspired.

  Rafe suddenly smiled, a wide, naughty grin. “I have an idea, a way for you to get what you want . . . and what I want.”

  His casual, out-of-nowhere suggestion snapped her attention back to business. “Pardon?”

  “Well, you want me to help your brother, right?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And I”—he leaned forward, the sheet dropping dangerously low on his naked hips as he fixed her with a wicked stare—“I want you.”

  Kerry swallowed. Heat and tingles tore through her belly. She opened her mouth to respond but no words came out. Was he serious . . . or just trying to give her a taste of her own medicine and distract her?

  “I want to finish what we started in the limo,” he murmured, his voice a sexy rumble.

  Rafe shifted again, leaning back against the headboard and raising his arms over his head. The muscles of his rounded shoulders and biceps bulged with quiet power. The hard ridges of his pectorals tightened. Kerry’s heartbeat raced.

  Why had she kidnapped the most beautiful man she’d ever seen? The only one she’d ever met who could make her dang near witless without a word?

  “I want to kiss your mouth over and over. I need to taste your breasts and those beaded nipples again. I’m dying to know the feel of you, hot and tight, around me.”

  Liquid heat flooded between her legs as her belly exploded with dangerous sensation. Just sitting there, the man rattled her. But when he talked like that, he was lethal to her common sense.

  Pacing, Kerry forced herself to look away. Rafe couldn’t know how much he affected her. If she’d met him any other time and place, she’d likely run, not walk, down this avenue. But as angry as he’d been all day, his sudden about-face made her more than suspicious. Touching him was just stupid. Captor and captive—that would keep their arrangement tidy and easy. Once he’d helped her prove Mark innocent, he could go.

  Her gaze slid back to him. If she took him up on his startling, heart-stopping suggestion, their relationship would be anything but easy. But bottom line, he was her key to helping Mark.

  “At least I think that’s what I want,” he said into her silence.

  “Excuse me?” Had she heard him right?

  He shrugged, the muscles under his golden brown skin flexing deliciously. “In the limo I was drugged. What if memory doesn’t serve correctly? What if I only thought we sizzled together?”

  What he said made sense . . . in a way that made her nervous. “What are you saying?”

  “I need to know for sure before I agree to any sort of bargain.”

  “Bargain?” He was talking too fast for her hormone-charged brain. She had a feeling Rafe was scheming to pull a fast one, but he’d overheated her too much with his seductive words.

  “You want to help your brother. I want you.”

  He was direct and completely unapologetic about that fact. Kerry wondered if women today ever swooned like they did in the historical romances she sometimes read. She hoped so, because much more of that talk and there would be a full-on faint in her near future.

  “I was thinking a bargain made sense. You agree to be all mine for forty-eight hours—”

  “Yours?” Her tongue wet her suddenly dry lips at the possibilities his words inspired.

  He leaned again, until she could smell the tang of his woodsy, musky scent with visceral clarity, until all she had to do to touch him was lean forward, too.

  His dark eyes drilled her with a carnal stare. “Mine to do with as I want, anything I want. For forty-eight hours.”

  Oh my, that gave her a visual, one folks would definitely have to be over seventeen to see in a theater. Kerry flushed hot from her belly to her feet and swallowed hard. “And?”

  “I’ll look into your brother’s situation.”

  “That’s wrong. That’s extortion!” She frowned both at his suggestion and her very politically incorrect excitement.

  “That’s commerce.” He smiled, gray eyes gleaming. “I didn’t think a kidnapper would be so sensitive about morals.”

  Kerry shook her head. “It’s a bad idea.”

  “Bad as in mistaken, or bad as in naughty?”

  “Both.”

  His smile turned lascivious. When had her heart started chugging like a freight train? Why did he have to look at her as if he’d become the Big Bad Wolf and she, Little Red Riding Hood, wearing only a garter belt? For some perverse reason, despite his brazen, not-so-nice suggestion, she was oh-so-tempted.

  “So what do you say? Are you game for a little audition?” he whispered, the stark white sheet caressing then exposing the bronzed ridges of his belly.

  “Audition?”

  “Just kissing, and a little touch here or there.”

  Just? Kerry didn’t believe Rafe had anything that mild in mind. Lord, she felt faint.

  “No sex,” he clarified. “Yet.”

  She struggled for her next breath. “And this will prove that you want me?”

  He nodded. “And if I want you as bad in ten minutes as I did in the limo, I’m all for a bargain. What do you say?”

  “You’ll help my brother if I agree to this insane idea.”

  “If I’m getting what I want, you’ll get what you want.”

  Thoughts raced through her brain faster than headlines changed on cable news. His suggestion was unconventional at best, exploitive at worst. So why did it arouse her? She was a modern woman. Okay, so she had a few old-fashioned tendencies. Despite that, letting a man call all the shots settled about as well as static cling with her. But somehow, the idea of giving herself over to someone as sexy and dangerous as Rafe had inexplicable, undeniable appeal.

  Lord, did that make her as bubble-headed as Mark’s wife, Tiffany?

  Kerry’s gaze strayed to his hands and stubbornly stayed. What would he do to her with those? Caress down her spine, plump her breast, squeeze her nipples, probe the part of her that was growing wetter with each passing second? And if the theory about judging the size of a man’s penis by his fingers was true, then Rafe’s intelligence wasn’t the only thing above average. Hell, she knew it was true; she’d seen every hard inch of him with her own eyes.

  “The clock is ticking,” he reminded her. “Where is your brother now?”

  Kerry closed her eyes, reality slamming her again. “The Pinellas County Jail, awaiting trial.”

  “Which starts . . . ?”

  She swallowed. “In less than two weeks.”

  “And you’re waiting for what? I’m asking for a simple yes or no. It’s completely your choice. If you’re not interested, just say so.”

  The bargain should be that simple, but it was also that complicated. She bit her lip. What would he say if he learned she was a virgin? He’d think she was an undersexed freak. And not that she’d been saving herself for marriage, but the idea of trading it away pricked her with disappointment. Yeah, she was going to have to lose it sometime—hopefully soon. But bartering it to keep her brother out of prison wasn’t what she’d had in mind. She wanted it to mean something to the guy she gave it to. Losing it here in Dominating Dave’s Love Shack seemed as unromantic as doing it in a bathroom stall at Denny’s.

  And then there was Rafe himself. She didn’t know him well, and allowing him anything and everything . . . well, that meant giving a lot of trust.

  “What is it? You look worried. Talk to me.” Gone was the wicked grin, replaced by something serious, edged with concern.

  “I—I’m thinking.”

  Suddenly, he reached for her hand and took it in his warm grasp, thumb caressing her knuckles. “No apologies. When I see something I want, I go after it. But I know that no means no, Kerry. I’d never hurt you.”

  “And this isn’t about revenge?”

  He glanced down at the tented sheet. “Do you think I’d rather have revenge or sex?”

  She met his gaze, thick with lust and anticipation. But she saw sincerity beneath it all. For some bizarre reason, gut reaction maybe, she believed him.

  Helping Mark was her priority, without question. But after sleeping less than three minutes since she’d arrived at the cottage, damp sheets haunted by the remembrance of Rafe’s mouth on her, Kerry could not deny that she wanted another taste of the man.

  “A-all right.”

  “Yes?”

  She nodded, feeling suddenly emboldened and shy at once. Finally, she’d know more about a man’s touch than drunken pawing at the prom. But what would he expect? What should she do?

  “I’ll need a hand free, sweetheart.”

  That demand set her suspicions on alert. “No.”

  “Yes, or I can’t touch you the way I want to. Gotta touch you. I’m dying for it.”

  Obviously he thought she’d been born in the last five minutes. “You’re just saying that to persuade me to uncuff you.”

  Rafe laughed, something mirthless. “Did you fail to look down?”

  Kerry looked again and found the sheet tented up by an erection that, if anything, had become more impressive. Her eyes widened. “Oh, my.”

  “Manipulating you would not put me in this state. I assure you, it’s all about the idea of touching you. And I’ve got to tell, I won’t be able to do that well with this thing around my wrist.”

  Faced with such irrefutable evidence, she felt herself caving in. Shocking that a hunk of man like Rafael Dawson would get so thoroughly aroused by her, particularly after her ranting over the phone and abducting him. Miracles never ceased.

  “I’ll even give you my left hand.” He held it out.

  She’d bet he could manage plenty of sensual devastation with that hand.

  Kerry hesitated. She didn’t know Rafe, shouldn’t trust him. But how many choices did she have?

  She looked at his hands, his fingers. Why did her body remember his touch? She felt like a radio tuned in only to his frequency. Butterflies danced in her stomach.

  Damn, she needed to focus her thoughts on abduction, not seduction.

  “Kerry? You want to help your brother. I want you. Yes or no?”

  Rafe was right.

  Slowly, she lifted the chain from her neck and thrust the little key into the hole. The cuff came unhinged with a quiet click. Quickly, she deposited the key on the far side of the sitting area, directly on the windowsill. The spot was just beyond his reach, even with the pulleys fully extended. Still, she watched him for anything suspicious.

  Rafe seemed to ignore her, instead flexing his fingers. “Much better.”

  By his side again, Kerry sent him a lame nod. Silence fell. What now?

  Then Rafe sent a stare her way—scorching with sexual promise, possessive even. The inky spikes of his lashes fanned up toward the sweep of his dark brows, framing unforgettable eyes that gleamed like brushed silver.

  At that look, Kerry forgot to breathe. The butterflies had suddenly grown by leaps and bounds, either that or taken up air hockey. She wasn’t scared or intimidated. Nervous, definitely. She couldn’t even claim she was out of practice, since she’d never had much in the first place.

  “I’ve thought about this all day,” he murmured.

  Her stomach coiled so tight, Kerry wondered if she’d ever be able to eat again.

  “But,” he added, “I’ve also had something else on my mind.” The wicked grin captured his mouth again, signaling the return of the devil inside him.

  “Oh?” Kerry held her breath.

  “One of the things I remember most vividly about the limo ride is your sheer little black panties. I want to see you in those.”

  Kerry sucked in a breath. “You do?”

  “Yeah,” he said in a voice now sandpaper rough. “And nothing else.”

  Chapter 3

  Kerry knew her eyes widened like a kid’s at a horror movie, but she couldn’t stop the reaction. “N-now?” “Right now.” His gaze consumed her.

  Her stomach plummeted to her toes. Why, oh why, had she done laundry last night when she couldn’t sleep? Why had she put those little panties on again this morning? No reason, except they made her feel daring, wanton, in control of her sexuality. Like the kind of woman who could handle abducting a sinfully attractive man. The kind of woman she wanted to be.

  Kerry tried to drown out the voice in her head that cursed her hare-brained theories. It was too late to back out. A deal was a deal. Anything and everything, he’d said. All she had to do to help Mark—and help herself to a big dish of Rafe’s sex appeal—was cooperate.

  He wanted her to strip for him. Scary, yes. But oddly arousing, too—wildly so. A tingling took up residence between her legs, as confidence and curiosity converged in her chest.

  “All right.” Her voice never wavered.

  He smiled, his stare devouring and challenging her at once. “Excellent.”

  His cocky expression told her he didn’t believe she would follow through, and normally Kerry feared he’d be right. But she’d be damned if she’d allow herself to be outdone by a man wearing nothing more than a sheet, handcuffs, and a killer smile. He could make demands, true, but she had the power. If nothing else, given her lingerie, she had the element of surprise.

  Shooting him a daring stare, raking her gaze over his naked, bronzed chest, Kerry kicked aside her sandals. She hesitated only a fraction of a second before she reached for the bottom of her T-shirt.

  “You’re wearing them now?” His hot stare drilled into her composure.

  Biting her lip, she nodded.

  “Even better.” Rafe smiled like a man contemplating a whole lot of sin. “Go on.”

  Feeling a flush crawl up her neck, Kerry grabbed the hem of her T-shirt again, eased it over her head, and flung it away. Instantly, the refrigerated air whisked over her heated skin, cascaded over her nipples. He could nearly see them, Kerry knew, peeking over the top of the sheer lace black demibra that all but presented her breasts like an offering.

  The smug smile slid off Rafe’s face. He stilled, gaze fixed and intent, then sat up. The sheet dropped to his hips, revealing the ripple of hard abs . . . and barely covering the rest of his remarkable equipment.

  The bold appreciation in his stare made her forget the fact she stood half-naked before a virtual stranger, forget everything but him. His rapt body language replaced nerves with confidence. And unexpected liberation. The harder he stared, the more arousal tightened in her belly, heating her in every place suddenly aching for his touch. Her heart pounded like a heavy metal drummer out of control. Her panties . . . How could a man’s mere stare make them so damp? Kerry had never imagined that getting naked on command would flip her switch. Apparently, it did.

  “Damn, woman.”

  “Problem?” She feigned innocence, her self-assurance growing.

  “No problem at all, babe,” he whispered. “I love a woman with real thighs, instead of twigs.”

  Kerry felt as if she were glowing, as if she were enormously beautiful, not the woman who had grumbled about her hips while struggling into her size twelve shorts.

  Suddenly, his mischievous smile returned. “The rest, please.”

  At his prompt, she reached for the snap at her shorts with trembling hands, their gazes fused in heat. A pool of desire swirled low in Kerry’s belly, trickling down between her thighs as she eased down the zipper, the rasp of the metal teeth like a crescendo in the silence punctuated by her aroused breaths. The merest slice of those black panties appeared. His pupils dilated. Oh, she had his rapt attention. Her confidence—and her arousal—soared.

  High on the surge of her feminine power, Kerry slid the shorts down the curve of her hips with an exaggerated wriggle. The denim caressed her thighs, then stopped in a heap at her feet.