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There was that.
    ‘Only pretty sure? That sounds like something to explore.’ He chuckled. ‘Don’t worry—the safeword will guarantee we don’t go over your pain limits.’
    Pain limits? Holy shit.
    This was starting to go way beyond what she would be comfortable discussing with Libby after a truckload of tequila slammers—let alone with Connor McCoy in a crowded restaurant, stone-cold sober….
    So why were all her nerve endings getting high on the illicit tingling? And why couldn’t she seem to forget the glorious feeling moments before, when her body had been about to fly off into the cosmos—under the command of his magic fingers?
    * * *
    Connor adjusted his raging cock, grateful for the loose-fitting suit pants, as he observed tiny frown lines furrow Sabrina’s brow while she considered his proposal.
    Her bottom lip curled up under her teeth and a groan of frustration rumbled up his chest. He gulped it down, drawing air into his lungs—to kick-start his brain.
    Back off. Don’t push too hard tonight.
    He shouldn’t have baited Sabrina when they’d gotten here, and he certainly shouldn’t have touched her. But once he’d caught Elizabeth giving him her ‘you’re trash’ look from across the table, the contempt rolling off his stepmother in waves had brought all the old anger and resentment and powerlessness surging back.
    And the urge to prod and poke and push at someone had been inevitable. The woman sitting beside him had just been an easy target. But then everything had gone straight to hell in a handbasket—and Elizabeth and her evil eye had been the least of his troubles.
    Because instead of being stuck-up or uptight or full of herself, his dinner companion had been sharp and witty and responsive.
    Way too damn responsive.
    Her pupils had dilated, her breathing had accelerated and those full lips had trembled—while he slid his fingertips up her smooth skin, and absorbed the quiver of reaction in the toned muscles of her thigh.
    He breathed in the aroma of coffee and that sultry perfume she wore, recalling the scent of her arousal as his fingers plunged into her damp sex. And concentrated on getting an iron-hard grip on the painful swelling in his pants.
    He wanted Sabrina Millard, but on his terms—and without that shit from his past shadowing a single second. She was a gift he hadn’t expected. Smart and ballsy and sexy as hell. A gift that could help keep him sane during the family reunion from hell. A gift he would have more than enough time to unwrap in the luxury suite he’d booked for the night at Grantley Manor—where Jamie’s wedding was taking place in five days’ time.
    It had been years since any woman had excited him and challenged him and intrigued him the way this woman did. And he intended to savour the experience—but only in a purely physical sense.
    His swollen cock jerked in protest as Sabrina’s tongue flicked out to moisten her bottom lip, and he noted the flicker of fascination and excitement in the mossy green of her eyes. He finally had Sabrina where he’d wanted her for five years. Alert and eager and open to the possibilities, that shield of aloof superiority shattering.
    He wasn’t about to blow the chance to smash the damn thing to smithereens by pushing too soon.
    ‘Do you think…’ she began, her voice a smoky purr of hesitation—which was all the more arousing, because he knew it wasn’t deliberate. ‘I could consider it?’

4) The Devil Is in the Detail: Be sure to coordinate all aspects of your mutual roles to avoid confusion, or unwelcome surprises.
    What’s your safeword?
    Sabrina stared at the text message that had popped up on her smart phone from an unknown recipient. Except the recipient wasn’t unknown. Not to her throbbing clitoris anyway. Especially as she’d been anticipating this contact for two days now—and had all but given up hope.
    She glanced up the aisle of the pretty little country church in Grantley Meadows, and spotted