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EXCERPT:

"Try to get free."

Obediently, Faye writhed on the bed, tugging at the handcuffs that restrained her wrists and the silk scarves I'd used to tie her ankles to the bedposts.

"Can't, Sir," she said, half smiling, half apprehensive, as if she was unsure whether the response would lead to reward or punishment. Hell, with Faye, the punishment usually was the reward.

I didn't keep her in suspense. "Good."

When I brought the riding crop up into her line of sight, her eyes widened and she bit her lip, a shiver of anticipation thrilling through her body. I paused for a second, giving her time to back out if she needed to, making no attempt to hide the way my eyes swept over every part of her.

"Are you ready?"

She swallowed hard, her eyes on the crop. Shaking a tendril of damp hair from her cheek before answering, she nodded, her words just barely whispered.

"Yes, Sir."

The way she submitted, unquestioning, to my authority made me want to throw aside the crop right then. I needed to be inside her, needed to hear her beg for release, needed to lose control completely. But not yet. The scene had yet to be played out.

Faye looked from the crop to my face, and from the slight upward quirk of her eyebrow I could tell she'd caught on to my train of thought.

"Or we could just..." she said softly, shifting seductively against the mattress.

Snapped back into my role, I stared her out until she stilled and broke eye contact.

A flicker of amusement remained in her voice as she conceded, "I'm sorry, Sir. I was outta line."

"You're damn right," I said, and without warning cracked the crop down onto her breast, just below the nipple.

She yelled with combined pleasure and pain, attempting to suppress the grin on her face.

I paused to let the blow register, knowing she was hardly even trying to be properly submissive. Most of the time, she let it wash over her, sinking so far into the state that it took time for her to come back from it. Tonight she was in a playful mood of a completely different kind-”cheerfully insolent and willing to take all the punishment I could meter out. I already knew she'd let me whip her until she was sore all over, then defy me for just a little longer, setting her tolerance for pain against my willingness to give it.

I've never been one to back down from a challenge.

Faye looked down at the red mark rising on her flesh, then up at me. "That the best you can do, Sir?"

I raised the crop, never letting my pissed-off façade slip. "I haven't even started-"

Faye's phone rang, the unexpected sound disorientating us both. She groaned, scowling at the offending object as if it was sentient.

"Damn it! Not now!" She tugged expectantly at her handcuffs. "Okay, let me out of these."

I stood there, impassive, and she rolled her eyes.

"Zach, seriously. Someone's probably dead and we'll have to go to work."

I knew she was right, but that didn't mean I had to like it. Dropping the crop and stepping over the tangle of our clothing, I crossed to the dresser and checked the caller ID. Sure enough, it was Santoro. For a brief moment, I entertained the irrational thought of firing him, but it passed.

Without releasing Faye from her bonds, I hit the speakerphone button to answer the call.

Taking a deep breath to steady her breathing, she spoke. "Santoro, this better be good. I'm a little tied up right now."

As I stifled a chuckle, Santoro replied, "I know, it's really late and I'm sorry. But we have a problem. There's been a triple homicide, and Pierce isn't answering his cell. His home phone's off the hook."

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Their private game began almost by accident.

At seven p.m., Elle Matthews headed for the bathroom to transform herself for her night out. After wriggling into a tiny mini-skirt and a clinging shirt that showed just the right amount of cleavage, she returned from the bathroom to find Jared at her workstation, studying the background research she'd been about to drop by his desk on the way out.

Jared Lancaster, one of the Beechbank Courier's star journalists and a close friend. Intelligent, often impatient, but always there for her.

Except in a friends-with-benefits way. She didn't even dare hint at her attraction to him-workplace romances could be so messy, and screwing up her friendship with Jared wasn't on her agenda.

He noticed her change of clothing and raised an eyebrow, smiling a little. "Going out?"

"Friend's birthday," she explained, plucking the file from his hands and hoping she wasn't blushing. "And I wasn't finished with that."

Ignoring his glare, she picked up a pen from her desk. It slipped through her fingers and skittered across the floor towards Jared, and they both bent to pick it up at the same time, ending up crouching scarcely a foot from each other.

He grabbed the pen first and handed it to her. She took it with murmured thanks, then glanced up at him as she began to rise.

The expression on his face stole the breath from her lungs, and she could have sworn he was looking down her shirt a moment ago...

Her mind in turmoil, Elle straightened and turned to the research document. Trying to reorder her thoughts, she dropped into her desk chair, filled out the paperwork on the last page and slotted it into the file.

Holding it out to Jared, she crossed her legs, forgetting she really shouldn't do that in this skirt. His eyes strayed to her exposed thighs, and she was pretty sure he got a glimpse of her thong, too...

"See something you like?" she asked softly, pushing back her nerves and focussing on the desire his gaze provoked.

He took the file from her, not bothering to look through it. Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he said, "I'm not playing your games, Elle."

"Okay," she agreed easily, shrugging. "Let's play yours."

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She didn't even know what had happened out there-”one second she'd been stepping aside to let someone get by, and the next her hand had brushed this guy's arm and she'd seen sparks. Felt sparks. And that made no sense, because it wasn't until she'd turned and looked at him that she'd even realised he was attractive.

"Get out of here," he ordered in a low growl, reminding her almost of a cornered animal-”trapped and ready to defend himself if necessary.

"I'm Lissa," she introduced herself, not bothering to hold out her hand for him to shake-”he wouldn't take it if she did.

He hesitated, then nodded acknowledgment. "Nick. And you need to leave. Now."

"Not until you tell me how you just gave me the electric shock of my life." She stepped closer and his jaw tightened.

Another step, and she halted with a gasp-”the air between them seemed to crackle with an energy she couldn't explain.

Her skin prickled with phantom pins and needles and she swayed forward as if there was a magnetic force connecting them. She'd wanted him the moment she saw him-now she'd never wanted anything more in her life. All her common sense had flown from her brain, and she was acting on an instinct she was sure had nothing to do with self-preservation.

"Stay back." His voice was sharp and commanding.

Lissa obeyed without thinking. "What's happening?"

"I can't hold it back for much longer, and the closer you are, the sooner I'll break." The force field between them was invisible, but it coated her skin, and his voice was a soft vibration through the molecules that separated them.

With a light shiver, she whispered, "What happens if you break?"

"Are you really willing to find out?"

She stayed where she was, not testing him by moving forward but not retreating, either. "Is it dangerous?"

He stepped back another pace and turned away from her, picking up one of the many disorganised files strewn on the desk as if to distract himself. "Not if I can help it."

The whole situation was so insane, and it wasn't an entirely reassuring answer. Okay, so she'd always believed in the paranormal to a certain degree, but she had no idea exactly what kind of paranormal she was dealing with.

Do you really wanna tangle with this guy?

The thing that confused and thrilled her most was that the answer was still 'yes'. Half of her longing was curiosity, because what he'd done to her out there shouldn't be possible. The other half was based purely on her racing pulse, the slight catch to her breath, the warm flush of her skin...

Tangle with him? That was the PG-13 version of what she wanted to do.