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and challenge in her eyes that he damn near rethought his decision.
    “Be careful what you dare me to do next time. It might not end there.” Yes, that warning was definitely meant for her. He knew when he got his mouth on her again, he wouldn’t stop with a kiss. “Go to bed, Megan. Take off those pajamas, get your vibrator out of your nightstand drawer, and masturbate for me.” He didn’t know if it was his order that made her eyes widen or the fact that he had nailed exactly what she would be doing after he left and precisely where she kept her toy. He didn’t know, really. He went for the obvious and, apparently, he had been right. “Think about me when you’re doing it. I’ll know if you don’t.”
    He released her wrists, slowly glided his hands down her sides, and turned away. He walked out of her apartment without a backward glance, doubting she had managed to move away from the wall.
    He would see her again and he would know. If she followed his order tonight, the next time he would take it further. And if she didn’t, well, he would just have to make sure she listened the next time.
     
    * * * *
     
    Megan slumped against the wall, her mind reeling, her body burning so hot she wondered she didn’t burst into flames.
    What just happened?
    She touched her swollen lips. He kissed you, that’s what.
    No, Drake hadn’t merely kissed her. He had inhaled her, consumed her, possessed her, and she had let him. The instant he hooked his arm around her, she had felt dizzy, intoxicated, as if his fingers came equipped with tiny needles that had penetrated her flesh and injected her with a heavy dose of erotic desire. Not that she had needed a heavier dose. Being alone with him had already put her in a state of sensory overload.
    Obviously, given the way you let him manhandle you.
    Her wrists tingled from the memory of his strong fingers clasped around them, pinning them to the unyielding sheetrock. He hadn’t manhandled her really, but he would. She didn’t doubt that. If she gave him the chance, surrendered so easily again, allowed him to touch her again, she would find herself bound by not only her wrists, but her ankles, too, while he did what he wanted to her body.
    Christ , she wanted that, and it terrified her. He scared her. The possibilities of what he could be capable of sent wicked chills of fear and devious desires zinging down her spine. Megan Pontius didn’t get scared, didn’t even get rattled, and she damn sure didn’t surrender to men. She never allowed a man to run the show. She was tough, steel willed, headstrong, and could hold her own in any circumstance.
    Except with Drake.
    No, she could hold her own there, too. Yet, a part of her she hadn’t known existed until shortly after meeting Drake didn’t want to. That part craved nothing more than to admit defeat and enjoy the promised dark pleasures she had seen swirling in his eyes tonight.
    Bad idea.
    Yeah, he’d had it right with that statement. Daring him had probably been a bad idea, a very tasty, hormone-rocketing, sense-shattering plan, but a bad one nevertheless. The man was lethal. He held the power to destroy her. He awakened things inside her she didn’t want to face, things she wasn’t sure she was ready for despite the desires churning in her soul.
    Things you need to put back to sleep.
    She straightened on legs that still trembled and snagged her cell phone off the coffee table. She threw her head back, closed her eyes as she took a deep, calming breath, and pushed the talk icon. She waited two rings, and a familiar male voice filled the cellular waves.
    “Cusack.” The single word was sharp and alert, telling her he was still awake.
    “Where are you?” She paced her living room floor, too unsettled to sit.
    “About to crawl into bed.” Cusack’s tone turned seductive. “Want to join me?”
    “This isn’t a personal call, Sergeant.” She purposely used his rank, making it clear she hadn’t called him for a trip