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cotton around her head. “What if I said no?”
    “Then you will be punished.” He whispered the words in his sexy accent, full of sensual threat.
    She trembled, unable to help herself. “I like the sound of that.” And arched again.
    The bed moved once more and warm breath chased along her neck, the only warning she got. Teeth against the exquisitely sensitive skin between shoulder and neck, a soft bite that sent a shockwave through her. Her back bowed and as it did, a hand cupped her breast, fingers pinching her nipple not hard but enough to wrench a cry from her. The cry became a moan and then the hand and the fingers and the teeth against her neck were gone.
    Izzy took a shuddering breath, shivers moving across her skin, a pulsing ache between her thighs. She could still smell him and it made the ache worse. “Don’t stop. Please.”
    “This is your punishment, Izzy.” His voice came from the other side of the bed. Away from it. Too far away. “You’re not allowed to come until I say you can.”
    She could pull away. At any time. She could loosen her wrists, get up off the bed, get dressed and walk out.
    But she wouldn’t. Because for the first time in months, she wasn’t thinking of Angie. Wasn’t wrestling with her grief, her guilt or her anger. Or drowning in a toxic mix of all three.
    She wasn’t feeling ignored or invisible or unimportant.
    For the first time in months she was the sole object of someone else’s focus.
    For the first time in months it was all about her.
    For the first time in months she was free.
    And she wasn’t giving that up for anything.

Chapter Five
    Aleks took a long, slow breath and uncurled his fingers. He’d thought—stupidly as it turned out—that having her restrained like this would help. That her not being able to touch him and her bright, vivid face covered by his T-shirt, would make him feel more in control.
    But somehow it didn’t.
    Viktor’s death seemed to have unlocked something inside him, something that he didn’t want to let out. Something that seemed to respond to Izzy. She made him feel out of control in a way that just wasn’t acceptable. Even tied up, the uncontained emotions on her face hidden, she burned like a candle flame. And he was a moth, drawn helplessly to it.
    He prowled silently up one end of the bed, then back again, unable to take his eyes off her.
    You should have sent her away.
    Yes, he should have. But he hadn’t.
    The bright silk of the scarves was a sharp contrast against her bare skin. Scarves he’d said he’d bought for a friend. A lie. He didn’t have a friend. He’d bought them because their bright colours had reminded him of his American mom and the house in Santa Monica, and a piece of him had wanted to remember the home he’d once had. Until she’d sent him back. Disturbed she’d said. Had attachment difficulties she’d said.
    Aleks found his hands had curled into fists yet again, his body coiled and tight against the memories that bubbled up inside him like a pot about to boil over on a stove.
    No. Not thinking about that. He’d gone back to the States. Bought his Santa Monica house. Reclaimed what should have been his all those years ago. And now he was black ice. He was cold. Those memories had no power anymore.
    His concentration fell back to Izzy on the white sheets of the bed, her pale skin flushed with desire. Her silver-white hair had dried into thick curls on the pillows, her mouth red and full. She trembled, the sound of her breathing loud in the room. Full of wild heat and colour and life.
    The tight thing in his chest gripped hard as he stared at her, fighting the need to tear away her blindfold, tear away her restraints and lose himself in her.
    “So, dude…” Izzy’s voice sounded breathless. “You often tie women up for pleasure?”
    She seemed to want to talk a hell of a lot. Was it nerves? Insecurity?
    He shouldn’t be curious. He should be planning his moves, figuring out what would give her