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From Red Shoes and a Diary by Mia Zachary.”There’s something I’d like to try, if you’re not afraid.”

Meghan inhaled sharply. Was he thinking what she thought he was thinking? She’d written a couple of fantasies about mild bondage, but never dared to try it.

“Well? Are you?” He drew the material leisurely over his palm, then twisted the ends around his fists.

A wild excitement filled her as she glanced from his face to the scarf. Would she try it? Oh, yes. In a heartbeat. The sense of forbidden longing was a complete turn-on. She cocked her head and rested a hand on one naked hip. “Do I look afraid?”

“You look incredibly beautiful.” His eyes, clear and intense, glowed with an inner fire. Admiration and something unfathomable mingled in his expression. Nick draped the scar in front of her face, surprising her by tying it securely behind her head.

She closed her eyes beneath the fabric, unnerved by the sudden heightening of her other senses. The air between their bodies was charged with anticipation. His large hand stroked her hair, his touch light and reassuring, but he didn’t speak again.

The silence was electric. She breathed in the soap-and-water smell of his skin when he swept her into his arms. For a moment she was disoriented as he carried her across the room. He laid her down on the cool bed sheet, then moved away.

Wearing nothing but a blindfold, she suddenly felt vulnerable, exposed. Meghan draped her arms over her waist. She crossed her legs and uncrossed them again. Finally she forced herself to relax. Eagerly awaiting whatever happened next, her heart hammered in her chest.

Unable to see, only to feel, she became acutely aware of the sound of her own breathing, the dampness between her thighs, the soft breeze billowing over her naked body. It was so much like what she’d written – the darkness all around, her lover ready to possess her body and soul – familiar and yet different.

The mattress dipped under Nick’s weight and she sensed him shift toward her. When he placed a hand against her shoulder, she startled at the unforeseen touch. She identified the faint smell of cinnamon and waited for the taste of his lips.

His mouth was hot, his kiss soft and drugging. Her entire being focused on his lips and tongue, the only place their bodies met. The heat of his kiss sent flames of lust straight to the juncture of her thighs. A moan escaped her throat.

Then suddenly he retreated, leaving her frustrated. Her earlier inhibition completely disappeared. She reached out blindly, searching for him, desperate for him. Not hearing a sound and fearing he might have left the room, she knew a second of alarm, alone as she was in the utter darkness.

Fantasy and reality merged, intensifying the thrill of the unknown. Then some primal instinct told her of his presence. She pictured him, motionless by the bed, silent and smug. A smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth. He wanted to watch? She’d give him something to watch.