“Yes,” I said, and I could see the effect that single word had on him.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. Then he grinned, a wolfish expression I’d never seen on his face before. “Let’s see what’s in the case of goodies, then.”

Brian picked up the suitcase and headed for his bedroom. I was lucky I didn’t fall over as I followed him with my shaky knees and my insanely high heels. He plunked the suitcase on the bed, then turned down the dimmer to bring the lights to a more atmospheric level.

Nervously, I came to stand beside him as he unzipped the suitcase. I was actually holding my breath when he flipped the top open. But there was nothing to see—yet—except for a length of black velvet that was tucked around the suitcase’s contents, and an envelope with Brian’s name on it and the words “for your eyes only” underlined.

“Why do I have a feeling I’m going to want to kill Dominic when this is all over?” I muttered under my breath.

Brian gave a huff of laughter as he picked up the envelope. “Go stand on the other side of the bed,” he ordered. “I don’t want you reading over my shoulder.”

I tottered my way over, holding the bedpost to help my shaky balance. It seemed to take Brian about three hours to read whatever it was Dominic had written, and the expressions on his face as he read it sparked both curiosity and terror in me.

Brian was grinning evilly when he finally looked up at me. “It’s mostly an explanation of what everything is and how to use it. I guess he thought I might find some of them a mystery.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And would you?”

He laughed. “Yeah. I’m afraid in this arena, I’m a babe in the woods.”

“That makes two of us.”

“I can’t believe you actually talked to Dominic about this. Wish I’d been a fly on the wall for that conversation.”

The fire in my cheeks burned higher. “Just another indication of how serious I am.”

Brian flipped the black velvet out of the way, but in the low light and from across the bed, I couldn’t see into the case well enough to identify anything other than a bunch of lumps. To clarify things for me, Brian lifted each item out of the case one by one, laying them on the bedspread for my inspection. I was really, really glad I had the bedpost to hold onto, because Dominic had taken me at my word—and then some.

At first, the items Brian laid out were easy to identify and no more intimidating than I’d expected. Black velvet ties; lengths of silky-looking rope; fur-lined cuffs; a blindfold; a—gulp—ball gag.

Then came some of the scarier items I’d expected. An oblong paddle, punctuated by scary-looking studs; something that looked like a short whip but with lots of thongs; a riding crop; dildoes in a variety of sizes and shapes.

After that, I had trouble figuring out what the hell you were supposed to do with the objects Brian continued to lay out on the bedspread. Lots of little clips and clamps and bars and strings and springs. Something that looked like a miniature pizza-cutter with teeth. A black leather glove with lots of prickly metal barbs on the fingers. And a long, fluffy feather, of all things!

I thought the case was completely empty when Brian looked up across the bed and met my eyes again. There was a warning in his eyes, and he held my gaze as he reached into the case and pulled out one last item. An item I knew all too well: the hellish whip Adam had used to tear my back to shreds.

I swayed, and for half a second, I thought I was actually going to faint. I gripped the bedpost with all the strength in my body and bit down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. There was a challenge in Brian’s stare, and I knew he was waiting for me to tell him to put that particular item back in the case. I also knew there was no chance he’d ever use it on me. The only reason it was in that case was as a challenge to my will and commitment. A challenge I was determined to meet.

When I didn’t balk or otherwise object, I saw a hint of what might have been approval in Brian’s eyes. Then he rubbed his hands together like a cartoon villain. I might have laughed if I weren’t scared shitless. I held my breath as he slowly perused all the items on the bed, then reached for the blindfold.

I can do this, I told myself as Brian stalked around the bed toward me. My every instinct urged me to flee, but I stayed put.

“You know you’re courting disaster if you expect me to move in these heels while wearing a blindfold,” I said with a nervous laugh. “Maybe I’d better lie down first.”

He didn’t answer, moving behind me and sliding the blindfold down over my eyes. It was thick and heavily padded, the padding conforming to the shape of my face so that no hint of light seeped through. Brian adjusted the elastic band behind my head, then slid one hand slowly down the length of my spine. Goose bumps immediately peppered my skin, and I shivered. I tried to tell myself that I wasn’t really blindfolded, that I was just in a very dark room. I wasn’t convinced.

I expected Brian to lay me down on the bed—the image I had in my mind was of being tied, spread-eagled, to the four posts. Instead, he put his arm around my shoulders and guided me around toward the back of the bed. I kept hold of the bedpost, because even with his arm around me, I felt weak and disoriented, and I didn’t want to fall and break my leg. He turned me so that my back was to the room, then let go.

He must have made a special effort to move quietly, because I couldn’t hear a thing, and I had no idea where he was. For all I knew, he’d left the room and I was just standing there like an idiot waiting for the ax to fall. But no, I was pretty sure he was picking out the next “toy.” I tried not to imagine just what he might select, or why he’d positioned me with my back—or perhaps more importantly, my backside— to the room.

I jumped and let out a choked scream when his hand landed on my shoulder again. I hadn’t heard the faintest sound of his approach. He laughed at me, and I summoned a little surge of indignation.

“Let’s change places and see if you don’t get a bit jumpy in this position,” I grumbled at him.

“I’m the only one allowed to do any talking,” he informed me, his lips inches from my ear. I could feel the heat of his body against my back.

I opened my mouth for a snappy comeback, but before I managed to say anything, Brian shoved something into my mouth. I realized instantly that it was the ball gag, and my veins were suddenly flooded with enough adrenaline to jump-start a semi. For the first time, I let go of the bedpost, my arms flailing with the surge of panic.

Brian put his arm around my waist, balancing me when my sudden move almost toppled me. He made no effort to trap my arms, and when the worst of the panic faded, I realized all I had to do was spit the damn ball out and yank off the blindfold if I was ready to call it quits. I shuddered and pressed into the heat of Brian’s body, calming myself by inches. The straps that were meant to fasten the gag behind my head hung loose, the ends tickling my collarbone.

“I like the idea of you not being able to talk back,” Brian murmured in my ear. “But when you’re ready to wave the white flag, you can let me know by dropping the ball.”

Yes, I was nervous, uncomfortable, even scared. But I was still me, and I bristled at his use of the word “when.” So I let my fingers do the talking. Only one finger, actually. He made a tsking sound, and I tensed, waiting for him to do something S&M-like, like spank me or pinch me. But he didn’t.

He moved away again, but my senses had adjusted a bit to my blindness, so I heard the faint whisper of his feet brushing the carpet, and I heard him when he came back. Even so, I jumped a bit when his hand circled my left wrist. Then it wasn’t his hand circling my wrist, it was something decadently soft—the fur-lined cuffs, I gathered. I hadn’t taken a real close look at them, but from the sensations, I gathered they closed with buckles. He put first one, then the other on me, but they didn’t seem to be attached to anything. Yet.