Before, that kind of reaction would have paralyzed her. Frightened her, even. But she was not scared. Not of him. Not of herself.

Perhaps a little of that confidence came from knowing that establishing a sexual relationship for the sake of the case was important to Ethan. He wasn’t going to reject her and that gave her a sense of self-assurance she wouldn’t have had otherwise. Maybe it should bother her that she knew part of his wanting her was for the case, but it didn’t.

The truth was…nothing bothered her right now.

She felt so different. Like a butterfly coming out of its chrysalis. Each article of clothing dropped was like the silken cocoon she had to shed in order to unfurl her wings and fly. She would fly in Ethan’s arms. She had flown last night, just talking to him on the phone. Part of her was flying even now. Feeling a freedom she had never known, the energizing sensation of warm, rushing wind beneath her wings.

She was not herself, but more essentially herself than she’d ever been. She didn’t care if that made sense or not. She didn’t understand the transformation happening inside her and did not seek to. How and why did not matter in that moment.

What was happening inside of her was not intellectual. It was wholly primitive and as such could only be comprehended at the instinctual level. She knew it was right. She could feel how right this night was.

This moment was not about her yesterdays or her possible tomorrows. It was about now. Only now.

Her shirt fell away, whispering down her body like a lover’s caress. Ethan’s gaze caressed her bare flesh and goose bumps formed, though the apartment wasn’t cold. She undid her pants and pushed them down her hips before stepping out of them. Her feet were bare from when, at Ethan’s invitation, she’d slipped her shoes off on arrival.

Ethan sucked in a breath, his turgid penis bobbing. “Your panties aren’t any more than a couple of ribbons and triangle of lace. A tiny triangle. I can see your pretty dark curls around the edges. I like that.”

“I don’t wax.” She didn’t say it apologetically, though she’d often wondered if she’d be sexier if she did.

“I wouldn’t want you to.”

“Some men would…they like smooth skin down there.” At least she’d heard they did.

“Alan?” he asked, his voice almost a growl.

“Uh…he never said. I just heard it…from other women about other men.”

“That’s their fantasy.”

“Not yours?”

“You’re my fantasy, Beth.” His voice throbbed with masculine want.

“And you’re mine.” She brushed her hands down her sides, her thighs clenching at how that made her feel. Decadent. Sexy. Wanton.

He put a hand out to her. “So, come and get me.”

If she did, she knew the fledgling sexpot emerging inside her would surrender to his superior experience, to the need radiating from him. She couldn’t do that. She wanted more.

“I have a particular fantasy.”

His hand dropped to his front and he gripped the base of his shaft. “So you said.”

It was so sexy to watch him hold himself that she did just that, for several seconds.

Then she licked her lips and forced out the words that inner woman demanded. “I want to handcuff you to the bed.”

“You sure about that, Sunshine? I can give you a lot more pleasure with my hands free.”

“A different kind of pleasure,” she dared to say. “I’m sure, Stud. Absolutely positive, in fact.”

“Sounds like you know what you want.”

“I do.”

“All right then.” He flexed his shoulders, rolled onto his back and reached his arms above his head, stretching that magnificent body. “Go for it.”

Her throat went dry. He was amazingly gorgeous, but it was more than his physical perfection that drew her to him. His humor, his intelligence, his dedication to his country-to his job even-his intensity, his ultramasculinity, they all made a potent package that was totally irresistible to her.

And his confidence astounded her. Because she could sense he still felt completely, one hundred percent in control. He wasn’t in the least bit worried about being bound to the bed.

Her inner vixen cheered. She’d known instinctively he would be like this, that he would not feel vulnerable even in handcuffs. And that was what she wanted…what she needed. Not a man who sought to be dominated, or would even tolerate dominance, but one who would seek to retain control despite the handicap of captivity.

In order to let her own strength free without reservation, she had to face absolute strength. It was the only way.

She approached the bed, her heart beating so hard in her chest he should be able to hear it. It was no small thing to be living out the fantasies that had dominated her sensual thoughts for more than two years. Longer if she counted the fantasies she’d had before her dreamtime lover took on Ethan’s face and body.

Part of her refused to believe this was really happening, that he was lying on that bed, willing to be bound…willing to be blindfolded if the sleep mask dangling off one horn meant anything. And she was sure it did. But she didn’t want to blindfold him. Not tonight. Tonight she wanted the built-up anticipation that came from him seeing what she was going to do…or what she wasn’t.

Climbing onto the bed on her knees, she leaned over him to snag the handcuffs from where they draped over the horn. They weren’t actually handcuffs, but wrist restraints made of black fabric with sturdy Velcro fasteners. They were attached by an adjustable belt of tight black webbing. Perfect.

He lifted his head and kissed her chest, running his tongue along her cleavage. “You taste sweet like sugar and you’re about falling out of that bra, baby. Why don’t you just take it off?”

She forced herself to lean away from that wicked tongue and the pleasure it was giving her. “When I’m ready. For now, why don’t you just enjoy the view?”

“Oh, I am. I surely am.”

She adjusted the belt between the cuffs to the right length, so his arms could rest comfortably on the bed but not have a lot of play for movement. Then, she leaned over him again. There were spindles as thick as the massive headboard lining its bottom half. She hadn’t seen them at first because of the pillows, but they were perfect for her needs.

She felt the heat of his breath against her breasts before the sensual slide of his tongue along the top of her bra cup.

She gasped, almost dropping the cuffs. “You’re supposed to be admiring the view, not licking me.”

“You said I could enjoy it. I’m enjoying this.”

So was she. She fought the urge to move her breasts so that one of her nipples was in line with his lips while she tucked the velvet-lined restraints around the center spindle. Then she secured his hands with the Velcro fastenings, all the while growing more and more aroused-both by her own actions and the way he was exploring the sensitive skin of her breasts with his tongue.

When she was done, she couldn’t make herself sit back, away from the temptation of his mouth. What he was doing felt too good, but this wasn’t the way she’d planned her seduction. She needed to take control. And soon.

A hand on the headboard for balance, she peeled down one side of her bra so her nipple was exposed to the air. It was already beaded, but even the gentle room temperature of his bedroom made it peak further. Or maybe it was the knowledge of what she planned to do.

Without warning him, she shifted so her nipple was right against his mouth. He made a feral sound in his throat and swiped it with his tongue. She moaned, arching her head back and pressing her breast closer to his lips. He licked the turgid, swollen peak again, and again, and again. His tongue swirled all around it, playing with her, teasing her and pleasuring her at the same time.

“Suck it,” she demanded, her need making her voice harsh.

He laughed darkly and did just that, taking her entire aureole into the heated wetness of his mouth with an instant fervent suction. She had never known anything so intense. Pulses of pleasure traveled straight from her nipple to her womb, growing stronger and stronger until she felt every draw against the hard nub duplicated by a sensual clenching inside her uterus and vaginal walls.