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with each powerful thrust.

    There was no finesse, no subtlety. Just good hard sex. It was exactly what she needed. He made her forget everything. Her work, her past, her fears; her dismal future. There was just the here and now. Just Kick and Rainie, the two of them together as they hurtled full-speed into a shattering, body-ravaging climax in each other’s arms.

    After quickly releasing the handcuffs and peeling off his disheveled clothes, he held her close as they gasped for breath, recovering from the tumult, hearts beating out of control and bodies slick with sweet-smelling sweat.

    She never wanted to let him go. Ever.

    “Damn, Rainie,” he groaned. “What the hell was that?”

    She laughed through an answering moan, light-headed with pleasure. “You’re pretty amazing yourself.”

    But it was more than pleasure. Much more. She felt an extraordinary, almost frightening connection with this man, one that was sure and strong and flowed through her veins like a powerful elixir of nurture and . . . safety. As she held him tight and breathed in the earthy scent of his skin and their lovemaking, she wondered what in the world was happening to make her feel this way. And also wondered . . .

    Did he feel it, too?

    After all, it was her name he’d been calling, her pleasure he’d been bestowing. This wasn’t some anonymous hookup. He’d been making love to her , Rainie Martin, not to anyone else.

    The thought was incredible, really.

    And also . . . impossible.

    She had to be imagining it all.

    These feelings couldn’t be real. They couldn’t be. She was a nurse. She knew very well that the body’s chemical reaction to acute fear felt identical to a rush of sexual desire. She knew that.

    In her mind.

    So why did it feel so different in her body . . . and her heart?

    It couldn’t, that’s what. The very idea was ludicrous. Can you say Stockholm Syndrome?

    Not that the sex hadn’t been fantastic. It so was. It just wasn’t . . . imbued with some miraculous, magical bond. Because that sort of thing only happened in fairy tales. Not real life. Especially when the man rolling on top of you didn’t even come close to being Prince Charming, but far more resembled the Big Bad Wolf. . . .

    But before she could accept the logic of her own argument, his mouth found hers and plied her with a long, slow, bone-melting kiss. His cock leisurely thickened and lengthened again, gradually finding and filling her with its iron-hard hunger.

    And she decided that, after all, princes . . . and logic . . . were highly overrated.

    HE wasn’t bad.

    How could a man so generous with his body and so tender with his emotions possibly be a bad guy?

    Rainie lay back on the bed with a silly smile, twirling the handcuffs around and around on her forefinger while Kick was in the bathroom. The whole situation—and her uncharacteristic reaction to it—was so bizarre she had no clue what to make of it all. The only thing she knew with any certainty was that she did not regret a single moment with him.

    Well. Okay, maybe some of the moments she regretted. Like when he’d first held her at gunpoint and she’d been sure she would die any second. That moment had been absolutely terrifying. So then . . . how had he ultimately succeeded in making her feel so . . . safe ? Something was just not right about this whole picture.

    She needed to find out more.

    “What’s the deal with the travel posters?” he called. “Have you been all these places?”

    She almost choked. “ Um . Not exactly.” The day she got on a plane—or any other mode of transportation for that matter—would be the day . . . well, hell froze over. “I just like dreaming about different places.”

    “Why not go? Don’t they give nurses vacation time?”

    “I, uh . . . don’t like to fly.” She didn’t talk about this. The only person who really knew about her . . . problem . . . was Gina. Rainie was not about to discuss it with this man, who