George chuckled as the women began righting themselves. He didn’t exactly hurry to get them out of his arms, but then, hey, he liked holding women. “Helluva greeting, ladies. Thanks.”
Erica, the black-haired witch, managed to send her elbow into his middle before pulling away. George grunted, but refused to give her the satisfaction of rubbing at it.
Asia gave him a chiding look and muttered in all seriousness, “Behave.”
Becky just stared up at him with that adorable look of innocent shock that seemed to melt his heart, his common sense, and his touted self-control. She didn’t move away, and he damn sure wasn’t going to insist. They stared at each other, and finally she blinked her way into speech. “George. What are you doing here?”
Her blond curls were mussed—a typical state for Becky, he was beginning to realize—and he went about smoothing them back into place. As badly as he wanted her naked and under him, he enjoyed simply touching her, too.
He ignored Erica, and only winked at Asia to reassure her, then said to Becky, “You forgot your change.”
“My change?”
“From your…purchases?” George wasn’t sure if she’d told her two coconspirators about the bondage stuff yet, so he didn’t want to let the cat out of the bag. All in all, it was a weak-ass excuse to be calling on her now, but it was all he could come up with.
Erica rolled her green eyes and drawled, “He means the cuffs and the blindfold, Becky.”
Predictably enough, Becky gasped, embarrassed by the mere mention of the items.
George wanted to smack Erica, but Asia saved him the trouble. She shouldered the other woman and frowned fiercely. Erica gave her a “what?” look that wasn’t the least convincing.
George decided to continue ignoring that one. “Remember, I paid with your money. You had change coming.” He pulled out the bills and coins and put them into Becky’s hand.
She stared at the money. “Thanks.”
Asia shoved her way between them. She caught George’s arm and pulled him through the doorway, then pushed the door shut. “We were just having coffee, George. Why don’t you join us?”
“Yeah.” Erica grinned. “Join us. Becky even made cookies.”
George eyed Becky in the frilly little apron, and all sorts of fetish images flooded through his already taxed brain. Hell, it was only an apron, and if he remembered right, his grandmother used to wear one.
But damn, it sure looked different on Becky than it had on Gram.
Sandwiched between Asia and Erica, he allowed them to drag him to the kitchen. They seemed awfully eager to keep him around, but then, it had been Asia’s idea, according to Cameron, that he should be the man to hook up with Becky.
He owed her big-time, he decided, then he noticed how the apron tied snug at Becky’s waist emphasized the flare of her hips. Usually her clothes were concealing. He cleared his throat and sought casual conversation.
“You bake, Becky?” Somehow, that fit. He wouldn’t be at all surprised to find out she knit and canned, too.
“They’re just chocolate chip cookies,” she mumbled. “No big deal.”
“My favorite.” Along the way to the kitchen, George took in the sight of her apartment. It was small, a little crowded with knickknacks and photos. Her sofa was floral, her curtains frilly, everything spotlessly clean. It was so like Becky that he liked it instantly. Her home felt warm and cozy and comfortable.
It felt like a…home.
They stepped into the small kitchen and George held out a chair for Asia, who was charmed, then Erica, who was sardonic.
Becky bustled about, looking like a very sexy Martha Stewart clone, getting out another cup and saucer, arranging the cookies on an ornate plate—studiously avoiding eye contact with him. George decided to let her get away with that for now. Once he had her alone, he’d show her there was no reason to be shy with him.
“Asia,” he asked, again seeking mundane conversation to ease the tension, “how’s Cameron doing?”
“He’s great.”
“He’s exhausted,” Erica corrected. “Wedding plans and all that, you know.”
George set his teeth and smiled at Asia. “Things moving right along?”
“A few glitches. Nothing major.” She snatched up a cookie as soon as Becky put the plate on the table. “That’s typical of every wedding, I suppose.”
Erica snorted. “Every marriage, too.”
“Someday,” Asia told her, “some guy is going to make you eat those words.”
“Right. Don’t hold your breath.”
George picked up a cookie, handed it to Erica, and said, “Here. Something useful for your mouth.”
She grinned shamelessly. “Honey, my mouth can be used for a lot of things more interesting than eating…cookies.”
She’d used just the right amount of hesitation so George couldn’t miss her meaning. He raised a brow. “At the kitchen table?”
“Why not?” She popped the cookie in her mouth and eyed him up and down. “You a prude?”
Despite himself, George laughed. “Okay, let me rephrase that—at the kitchen table with two women present?”
Erica held up her hands. “I concede. A woman has to draw the line somewhere.”
“Indeed.” George glanced up and saw that Becky was disgruntled by the sexual banter. Damn, he hoped she didn’t think he was flirting with Erica.
He had been, he supposed, but not out of interest. He’d merely felt compelled to hold his own against her, sort of a male against female thing. Dumb.
He wondered how Becky could stay such close friends with Erica. Their personalities were so different. He took a bite of cookie, and groaned in appreciation. “Damn, Becky, that’s good. You even put walnuts in them.”
Becky stopped dumping sugar in her coffee and gave him a stony stare. “Thank you. I’m so glad you like them.”
Her words sounded anything but pleased. Was she jealous? Normally that would annoy the hell out of him, because grasping women drove him nuts. But this time George found himself fighting a grin. He kind of liked the idea of Becky being jealous. After putting him off for two years, she deserved it.
Becky sat opposite him at the small table, with Asia and Erica at his sides. He wanted to touch her, to reassure her, but the other women were watching him like they expected him to sprout horns at any moment.
Moving slowly so they wouldn’t notice, George stretched out his legs. His feet bumped Becky’s. Before she could withdraw, he caged her legs with his own. Beneath the table their knees touched, his outside hers. He watched her over his coffee cup and saw her go still, then draw in a deep breath. Her gaze lifted and locked with his.
For long moments, they stared at each other.
Erica chuckled. “You two are embarrassing me. I think it’s time Asia and I hit the road.”
Asia agreed, but Becky jumped to her feet. “No. I mean, you haven’t finished your coffee.”
“Caffeine keeps me awake.” Erica drew her close and hugged her, then said in a stage whisper that the birds in the trees outside could hear, “If we don’t go now, George is liable to self-combust. The man is all but salivating and it isn’t over the cookies, no matter what he tells you.”
George continued to watch Becky when he replied to Erica. “How astute of you.”
Erica flapped her hand at him in dismissal. “Nah. Men are just so easy to read.”
“More infamous words,” Asia complained. She grabbed Erica and towed her away. “Bye, Becky. Behave. And call me later.”
“Call us both! But do not behave.”
Seconds later, George heard the front door close with a quiet click. He set his coffee aside and came to his feet. Becky backed up.
He rounded the table.
She bumped into the counter.
“Are you afraid of me?” He wasn’t worried about it, because he’d come to the conclusion that Becky’s decision to incorporate a little bondage into her lovemaking was based on sheer curiosity and daring. No way did she have enough sexual experience to be bored and looking for a new kick. Under the circumstances, he expected her to be a bit nervous. Beyond being a real turn-on, it was sort of endearing.
She flattened her hands on the counter at either side of her hips, bracing herself. Standing there in the frilly apron, eyes wide, lips parted, she made a very tempting picture. “No, I’m not afraid of you.”
“Good.” George advanced on her until his legs were on either side of hers, his cock pushed up snug against her soft belly, and his hands over her hands on the counter, effectively holding her captive.
Damn, he liked this game. He liked it a lot.
He stared at Becky’s mouth. “No matter what we do,” he told her, thinking of how she might feel when he had her tightly bound on the bed, legs open, unable to move, “no matter what I say, you don’t ever have to fear me. All right?”
Becky frowned.
“Believe me, Becky.”
She nodded slowly. “Yes, all right.”
He let out his breath in relief. “I need another kiss.”
“All right.” She closed her eyes, turned her face up, and pursed her lips.
Grinning, George smoothed a finger over that delectable mouth. Patience, he told himself. She might be ready to try new things, kinky things, but she lacked any real experience. It was up to him, regardless of his urgency, to guide her gently.
The idea of tutoring her gave him another rush. “I want to taste you, babe. I want you to suck on my tongue again.”
Her eyes popped open and she blinked. “You do?”
“Mmmm. Becky, open your mouth for me.”
Her lips parted the tiniest bit, more out of surprise than because of his instruction, but it was enough. George groaned and took her mouth.
The second he tasted her, his intentions regarding gentle guidance went straight out the window. He licked his way inside, tasting her deeply, eating at her mouth, pushing her lips farther apart with a hunger that quickly shot out of control.
After a small, shocked sound, Becky struggled to free her hands. Frustrated, George released her and lifted his head, ready to apologize.
She launched herself at him.
Her hands were frantic on his chest and shoulders, his neck, his face. She seemed to enjoy touching him, and she definitely enjoyed kissing him. Her mouth landed on his with inept exuberance until George helped by turning his head and adjusting the fit. Becky made a hungry sound and gave him her tongue.
Now, without their coats between them, he could feel her nipples stiffened against his chest. He wedged a hand between their bodies and cuddled her lush breast in his palm.
They both groaned in raw appreciation. Becky was full and firm and so soft, her heartbeat galloping madly. He was pretty much in the zone of no return when he stroked his other hand down her narrow back and gripped her rounded behind. He lifted her into his groin and pressed against her in a tantalizing rhythm that mimicked sex but wasn’t nearly as satisfying. She felt good, smelled good, tasted good.
Against her mouth, he whispered, “God, Becky, you are so beautiful.”
And like a wet cat, Becky screeched and thrust him away.
Dumbfounded, all his wits now gathered below his belt, George stared at her and tried to figure out what the hell had just happened. One minute she’d been attacking him, and the next she acted like she’d been attacked.
Even now, she appeared panicked, while George simply struggled to catch his breath. They were still pressed tightly together, his cock still throbbed, and his body still thought sex was the best solution.
Becky disabused him of that notion when she flattened her hands on his chest and tried to push him away. He regretted her change of heart, but no way in hell was he going to let her put any major distance between them. Not yet. Not until he figured out what was wrong.
He caught her shoulders and held her still. “Becky?”
She turned her face away, her voice trembling, her eyes closed. “Let me go.”
He hesitated, unsure about what to do. “All right. But can you tell me why?”
She wouldn’t look at him. “I…I’m not ready yet.”
What was the big deal about getting ready? He tried to sound reasonable. “Ready for what?”
“For…whatever you were trying to do.”
“What exactly do you think I was trying to do?”
“I don’t know!” She glared up at him, defiant and shaken. “You were grabbing my…my…”
“Your ass?” His voice dropped and he said with great and inadequate sincerity, “Becky, honey, you have a fantastic ass. A premier ass. A world-class ass.”
She appeared startled, then laughed and covered her face with her hands. George relaxed a bit; that was more like it.
Gently, he eased her against him and began rubbing her back, not in a sexual way, but in a soothing way. She was trembling—and still snickering. His chest felt tight with an emotion that definitely wasn’t sexual in nature.
He kissed her temple. “Becky? If I promise not to do any more ass grabbing, can I kiss you again?”
Her words were muffled against his chest. “That…that wasn’t the problem.”
Hmmm. Not exactly the answer he’d expected, but at least now she wasn’t pushing him away. In fact, she leaned on him in a way he chose to call trusting. What a mix she was, buying handcuffs, going wild when he kissed her, then freaking out for reasons he couldn’t begin to fathom.
Despite his current frustrated state, figuring her out would be a treat.
“How about we sit down and finish our coffee and cookies?”
Her forehead dropped to his sternum. “You don’t mind?”
Teasing her had worked, so he tried it again. In a low sexy rumble, George said, “You’ve got great cookies, too, Becky.”
She actually giggled, then groaned. “I’m embarrassed again.”
“Why?”
“Because I acted like an idiot.”
“Oh, I dunno.” He nuzzled against her hair, breathing in her soft, baby-fine scent, loving the feel of her silky curls. “If some guy grabbed my ass like that, I’d probably act the same way.”
She slugged him, and now she shook with laughter. George smiled, too. It amazed him, but despite a raging hard-on that by all accounts wouldn’t be appeased any time soon, he was actually enjoying himself.
He kissed her hair again and moments later felt her shoulders stiffening, felt her bracing herself. Becky was shy, but she wasn’t a coward. When she raised her face, he saw the determination in her gaze. “I didn’t know you were so funny, George.”
Cautiously, because he didn’t want her to go hiding against his chest again, he said, “I didn’t know you were into bondage. I suppose there’s a lot we can learn about each other.”
She didn’t look away, but she did bite her lip.
“C’mere, Becky.” George led her to her chair and seated her. Startled amazement crossed her face when he knelt down in front of her, but he wanted to see her eye to eye, to read her reactions and make sure she understood. “I’m dying to make love to you. Don’t ever doubt that. But I’m not a pig. If you want to wait a bit, it doesn’t have to be tomorrow. We can just…I don’t know, go out if you want.”
Amazement turned to disbelief.
George frowned at her. “I don’t want you to feel rushed.”
She covered her mouth with her hand.
“And as for all this bondage stuff, hey, it’s fine by me, but only if you’re into it, okay?” Her hair had gotten tangled by his hands when they’d kissed and now he smoothed it, tucking it behind her ears. He adored her hair and couldn’t wait to feel those soft curls drifting over his chest, maybe down his abdomen when they made love….
“I…I’m new to this.”
Her admission brought him out of his sensual revelry. “I figured that out.” How new was what he really wanted to know. But then he assumed he’d find out soon enough.
“I want it to be tomorrow, I really do.”
Thank God. “Okay, if you’re sure that’s what you want.”
“It is. It’s just that I want everything to be…right.” She looked down at her hands, then back up. “And I want…I want the bondage stuff. I want to use the handcuffs and…the blindfold. Okay?”
It was a wonder he didn’t come in his pants. As it was, George had to take two deep breaths, close his eyes, and count to ten. And still he hurt.
“All right.” It sounded like he was strangling.
Becky smiled and touched his jaw. “You’re pretty terrific, George, you know that?”
At the moment, he felt pretty damn terrific, like friggin’ Superman, with superhuman patience. Only a real hero could take this kind of temptation and still survive. The inquisition could have made use of little Becky Harte.
“Cookies.” He straightened, grimaced at the discomfort from a straining boner, and moved to his seat. “I’m going to eat my cookies, drink my coffee, then go home before I insist on kissing you again.” He raised his cup to her in a salute. “You, babe, are pure fire.”
Becky looked down at her hands folded on the tabletop. “But I’m not.” And then, in a whisper so low he could barely hear her, “I’m not beautiful either.”
George stared at her in surprise. So that’s what had bothered her—a compliment. Judging by the seriousness of her expression, she really believed what she said. She also looked more vulnerable than any woman should ever look.
Trying to lighten her mood, he raised his hands and studied them.
That got her attention. “What are you doing?”
George lifted one shoulder. “I’m looking to see if I’ve got any visible burns so I can prove to you how wrong you are.”
“Burns?”
“You are hot, lady. Believe me, I know. So hot, in fact, I would’ve sworn my fingertips were singed from touching you.”
It was so ridiculous, but so sweet, Becky couldn’t help but smile. George blew on his fingers and she laughed out loud. He was an incredible man.
“That’s better,” he told her, and he snagged another cookie.
Becky looked at him sitting across the table from her—a place she’d never, ever expected to see George sitting. Because it was getting to be late in the day, he had a dark beard shadow. She’d felt it when he kissed her, knew she had a few slight burns on her throat, her cheeks. Amazing. She’d never had whisker burn before. In many ways, it felt as though she’d been initiated.
George caught her staring and grinned. “What?”
Her smile lingered. “I was just…wondering about you.”
He leaned back in his seat, a cookie in his hand. “Yeah? Like what?”
Becky shrugged. “I don’t want to pry.”
“No, it’s okay. We might as well use this time to get to know each other better, right?”
She loved that idea, but having a personal relationship with a man was new to her. Having a relationship with George defied all her expectations. “You’re sure?”
“Well hell, you’re making me curious with all this hesitation. What are you going to ask me anyway? My social security number? How much money I make?”
“Of course not.” She was insulted that he’d suggest such a thing. “I don’t care about that.”
His eyes narrowed a bit, making his dark gaze sharper. “Some women do, you know. What a man makes ranks right up there with the size of his cock.”
Becky sputtered on the drink of coffee she’d just swallowed. He kept taking her by surprise with the things he said, his unregulated speech.
“You okay, honey?” He made to stand and Becky waved him back into his seat. If he touched her now, she was liable to attack him and then everything would be ruined. Twice now, she’d lost her head with him, in the parking lot, in her own kitchen. He was under the ridiculous assumption she was beautiful, and she didn’t particularly want to dissuade him of that notion. If any of this was to go right, it had to be as she’d planned, with the bondage.
And with the blindfold.
George stared at her, must have decided she wouldn’t choke to death, and shrugged. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to shock you.”
Becky didn’t believe that for a second. It seemed to her that he took maniacal delight in shocking her. Besides, she’d already heard plenty about his dimensions. Women would whisper about him, pretend to swoon, and get all flushed.
Becky had always found it all rather silly.
And intriguing.
She cleared her throat. “Let me reassure you, I don’t care…about what you make.”
His grin was slow and suggestive, wicked. “But you do care about the size of my cock, huh?”
Deciding to face him down, to give him a little of his own, she lifted her chin and nodded. “The thought has occurred to me a few times. Especially since you’re supposed to be…impressive.”
“Yeah?” He took a bite of the last remaining cookie, for all appearances unconcerned with the idea that his private male parts had been discussed around the break room. “When have you thought about it?”
Good grief, he wanted details? Becky sought words that would explain, but wouldn’t be too graphic. “Like when you were…you know, against me.”
“Mmm.” He gave her a sage nod. “Go on.”
“And with all the…well, the talk.” She shrugged. “I suppose it was natural for me to be curious about it, don’t you think?”
He stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing. He grabbed his coffee to wash down the cookie, and nodded. His eyes were still twinkling and his words were broken with chuckles. “I hate to break it to you, Becky, but truth is, I’m really quite average.”
That stunned her. “No way. I felt you.” Her brows puckered. “Surely that’s not…not average.”
His laughter dwindled, then died. Suspicion made him frown. “Becky, exactly how much experience do you have?”
She wasn’t about to admit her experience was zilch. Nada. That other than the video he’d shown her earlier, she’d never seen a naked man.
“That’s a personal question,” she replied, trying to sound prim rather than evasive.
George barked a disbelieving laugh. “And the size of my dick isn’t?”
That stumped her. “Well you’re the one who told me to ask my questions.”
“But it doesn’t go both ways, huh? I’m to bare my soul and my manly measurements, but you get to keep private?”
She felt guilty, darn it. “On some things.” As if to appease him, she said, “I’ll tell you my bra size.”
He looked at her breasts. “I’d say a thirty-six C. Right?”
Darn. That was right on the money—the man knew women much too well. She frowned, but didn’t reply.
“We’ll never get to know each other better unless we share, now will we?”
He had a point. “I suppose not.” Then, “Do you want to…you know, get that familiar? I mean, you don’t just want to do…what we planned to do…tomorrow night?”
That idea seemed to ignite his temper. “One night? Oh no, Becky, you can forget that right now. It’ll take a damn month at least for me to even get close to getting enough of you.”
“Oh.” A whole month of having sex with George? The idea made her giddy. But would he continue to let her restrain him that long?
George’s scowl grew darker. “Okay, this is how it’s going to be. An even exchange. You can ask me a question, but for every one you ask, you have to answer one. Deal?”
She blanched at that suggestion. “I refuse to discuss past lovers.” She couldn’t discuss something that didn’t exist. If he found out he was a guinea pig of sorts, he might lose interest or back out.
His eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Fair enough. That question is taboo—for both of us.”
Well, darn. Becky sat back in a huff. There were at least three women at work who claimed to have been intimate with him. She wanted to know if there were others, if half the women there had carnal knowledge of him, and what exactly he’d done with them. The curiosity was killing her. But now she’d seem really petty if she pushed the issue. “All right,” she muttered. “It’s a deal.”
He sat back with a satisfied nod. “Good.”
Becky waited. And waited some more. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“How big is your…you know.”
Being a complete cad, George asked with false confusion, “My what?”
Exasperated, Becky pointed.
“My waist? Thirty-four.”
“No, not your waist.”
His gaze was intent, taunting. Sexy. “Say it, Becky.”
“Why?”
His voice changed, went husky. “Because I love it when a woman talks dirty.”
Huh. She’d gotten that bit of information for free. Would she have the courage to talk dirty to him tomorrow? What kind of language qualified as dirty? With what he considered appropriate table conversation, it’d have to be pretty explicit to be dirty to him. She’d have to think about it. Or maybe ask Erica.
No, she couldn’t do that. He and Erica seemed to get along a little too well to suit her.
She drew a steadying breath. “How big is your…penis?”
That slow grin reappeared. “Penis?” He laughed. “What a spoilsport you are. My cock is about seven and a half inches. Erect. And that’s length by the way, not circumference.”
“I know that!”
He laughed and finished off the last cookie.
Becky tried to picture a seven-and-a-half-inch penis—which was much smaller than the rubber penises she’d seen on the wall at the porn shop. But since she’d never seen a real one up close and personal, she decided she’d have to get a ruler out later to get a good visual. “Thank you. And you say that’s average?”
“Close enough.”
“Then why do they make the fake ones so big?”
George rubbed his face, and Becky suspected he was laughing. “I’ll explain that to you after.”
“After?”
He dropped his hands. Nope, there was no sign of amusement in his expression. “After we’ve had sex.”
“Oh.” That shut her up. She couldn’t think of another single thing to say.
George leaned forward and propped his elbows on the table. “My turn.”
Becky braced herself.
“Have you ever thought about having sex with me? I mean, before now. Anytime over the last two years?”
Oh, unfair! How did he come up with such a question? The last thing she wanted to do was admit that she’d fantasized over him a lot.
She frowned, and he just waited. She had agreed, so she met his gaze and nodded.
“Yeah?” His eyes turned hot with her confession, and he leaned closer still. “How often.”
“That’s another question.”
“So I’m one ahead. Answer it.”
Deciding a good offense was her best defense, Becky stood to pace. “You’re an incredibly attractive man, George.”
“Thanks. How often, Becky?”
She glanced at him, but saw no irony in his watchful gaze. She continued her pacing. “You’re also very nicely built.”
“Is that right?”
Becky bobbed her head. “Sure. You’re tall and lean and muscular.” She peeked at him. “Women like that.”
“Like men like great asses and big breasts?”
Every feminine bone in her body was offended by such a cavalier, sexist comment. But once again, he’d gotten her. She’d started this stupid conversation, after all. Eyeing him, she muttered, “I suppose.”
“Go on.”
“You also have an astounding reputation.”
To her surprise, George shook his head. “Women and their damn gossip. Believe me, I’ve heard some of it, and only half of it is true.”
“Really? Which half?”
George settled back with an aggrieved sigh. “Is that your question? Because I have to tell you, it seems like a roundabout way of questioning me on that taboo topic we agreed to avoid.”
Flustered because he was right, Becky busied herself with refilling his coffee cup. When she started to move away, he caught her wrist. “Besides, Becky, you still haven’t answered my question.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” He took the coffeepot from her, set it on the table, and tugged her into his lap. With his arm locked around her, she knew she couldn’t escape, so she just held herself erect. “Now, let’s talk about these fantasies of yours. Particularly how often I played a part in them.”
With the back of his finger, he teased her cheek, the side of her neck. Becky gulped. “All right.” She glanced at him, then away. “If I have to be truthful, then I’ve thought about you often.”
That teasing finger went still. “How often?”
Every day. “Often enough. I’m glad you were there today, and that we seem to have a similar interest.”
His hand dropped to her waist. He squeezed, caressed. “In bondage?”
“Yes.” Becky felt him shift and came to a startling realization—he still had an erection. And he felt bigger than seven and a half inches to her.
Eyes agog, she said, “You’re still hard.”
He looked pained. “Yeah. Believe me, I know. And as long as you’re talking about bondage, or sitting in my lap, or…hell, just breathing, I’m probably going to stay hard.”
Fascinating. “Will you stay like that for long?”
His mouth curled with suggestion. “As long as I need to.”
“Oh.” She shivered at that dark promise. “Oh no, I meant tonight, after you leave here.” And then a horrible, awful thought occurred to her and she frowned at him, outraged. “You’re not going to be with another woman tonight, are you?”
George pulled her down for a ravenous kiss. When he lifted his head, his voice was raspy and deep. “I want you, Becky, not anyone else. Until we’re through with each other, we’ll both keep it exclusive, agreed?”
Relief washed over her. “Yes.”
He dropped his head to her chest. “Thank God. Now, I have to go because if I don’t I’m going to lose control.” He lifted his face to smile at her. Becky, taking the hint, scrambled off his lap and stood in front of him. He came to his feet as well.
He cupped her head between his big hands and kissed her nose, her chin. Against her lips, he asked, “Will you think about me again tonight, babe? About what we’ll do?”
“Yes.” She’d think and dream and fantasize and plan.
George stepped away. “Until tomorrow, then.”
It was raining when he left, a cold miserable rain, but inside her lonely apartment, Becky burned. She went to the couch, picked up the handcuffs, and began figuring out how she’d get them on him.
At least she had a four-poster bed, just like in the video. She was certain that was going to be a big help.