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forward and hands me a set. “Do you want to try them first?”
    They feel solid, the metal cold. Vaguely, I hope I never have to wear a pair of these for real.
    Christian is watching me intently.
    “Where are the keys?” My voice wavering.
    He holds out his palm, revealing a small metallic key. “This does both sets. In fact, all sets.”
    How many sets does he have? I don’t remember seeing any in the museum chest.
    He strokes my cheek with his index finger, trailing it down to my mouth. He leans in as if to kiss me.
    “Do you want to play?” he says, his voice low, and everything in my body heads south as desire unfurls deep in my belly.
    “Yes,” I breathe.
    He smiles. “Good.” He plants a featherlight kiss on my forehead. “We’re going to need a safe word.”
    What?
    “ Stop won’t be enough because you will probably say that, but you won’t mean it.” He runs his nose down mine—the only contact between us.
    My heart starts pounding. Shit . . . How can he do this with just words?
    “This is not going to hurt. It will be intense. Very intense, because I am not going to let you move. Okay?”
    Oh my. This sounds so hot. My breathing is too loud. Fuck, I am panting already. My inner goddess has her sequins on and is warming up to dance the rumba. Thank heavens I’m married to this man, otherwise this would be embarrassing. My eyes flick down to his arousal.
    “Okay.” My voice is barely audible.
    “Choose a word, Ana.”
    Oh . . .
    “A safe word,” he says softly.
    “Popsicle.” I say, panting.
    “Popsicle?” he says, amused.
    “Yes.”
    He grins as he leans back to gaze down at me. “Interesting choice. Lift up your arms.”
    I do, and Christian grasps the hem of my sundress, lifts it over my head, and tosses it on the floor. He holds out his hand, and I give him back the handcuffs. He places both sets on the bedside table along with the blindfold and yanks the quilt off the bed, letting it fall to the floor.
    “Turn round.”
    I turn, and he undoes my bikini top so that it falls to the floor.
    “Tomorrow, I will staple this to you,” he mutters and tugs on my hair tie, freeing my hair. He gathers it into one hand and yanks gently so I step back against him. Against his chest. Against his erection. I gasp as he pulls my head to one side and kisses my neck.
    “You were very disobedient,” he murmurs in my ear, sending delicious shivers through me.
    “Yes,” I whisper.
    “Hmm. What are we going to do about that?”
    “Learn to live with it,” I breathe. His soft languid kisses are driving me wild. He grins against my neck.
    “Ah, Mrs. Grey. You are ever the optimist.”
    He straightens. Taking my hair, he carefully parts it into three strands, braids it slowly, and then fastens my hair tie to the end. He tugs my braid gently and leans down to my ear. “I am going to teach you a lesson,” he murmurs.
    Moving suddenly, he grabs me by the waist, sits down on the bed, and yanks me across his knee so that I feel his erection pressed against my belly. He smacks my backside once, hard. I yelp, then I’m on my back on the bed, and he’s gazing down at me, his eyes molten gray. I’m going to combust.
    “Do you know how beautiful you are?” He trails his fingertips up my thigh so that I tingle . . . everywhere. Without taking his eyes off me, he gets up from the bed and gathers both sets of handcuffs. He grasps my left leg and snaps one cuff around my ankle.
    Oh!
    Lifting my right leg, he repeats the process so I have a pair of handcuffs attached to each ankle. I still have no idea where he’s going to attach them.
    “Sit up,” he orders and I comply immediately.
    “Now hug your knees.”
    I blink at him then draw my legs up so they are bent in front of me and wrap my arms around them. He reaches down, lifts my chin, and plants a soft wet kiss on my lips before slipping the blindfold over my eyes. I can see nothing, all I can hear is my rapid breathing and the sound of