Page 103 of Missile Strike

The silk binding at her wrist loosened enough that she could easily slip out of it if she wanted. He secured it to the bedpost, then repeated his action with her other wrist.

“Still good?” He dangled the leopard-print scarf from his fingers.

“Yes?” Her reply came out with a clear question mark attached to it.

“Bella…”

“Green.”

He covered her eyes, and the world turned gray.

Her body went rigid.

For a second, instinct screamed to fight.

It’s Danny. You can trust him.

She wasn’t a scared child.

She was safe.

“Traffic light, honey.”

More breaths. Tension seeped away. “Green.”

“Now, you can’t see. You can’t touch.” His breath whispered across her lips. “Focus on what you can feel.”

Feel? Soft, firm lips tasting her. A tongue requesting entrance to her mouth, which she eagerly gave, their mouths fusing together.

She’d never enjoyed kissing as much as she was enjoying this kiss.

Ravished. That’s what a romance novel would call it.

Danny ravished her mouth, and she responded in kind, tasting and claiming him as her own.

Hands cupped her breasts and squeezed. She arched into the touch. His mouth left hers, planting a trail of kisses down her neck to her collarbone. Moist heat surrounded one tip, then a sharp stab of sensation made her jerk as his teeth bit down.

A gasp. Or was it a moan? Pleasure or pain. Her brain couldn’t decide, but her body reacted with a zap of electricity straight to her womb.

Another nip. Sharp. Electric.

Fingers trailed across her stomach. Over her hip. Down her legs to her ankles. Without sight, his touch was magnified, raising goosebumps on her skin.

Lips surrounded her toe. His tongue swirled before he sucked, then let go. “I fucking love that pretty pink polish.”

The sexy throb of his voice melted her insides even as pleasure fisted every muscle below her stomach.

His palm glided up the smooth skin of her leg to one hip, then the other, before drifting to her mound.

He found her clit. Her body, already hypersensitive, arched as he rubbed the sensitive bud.

Sparks burst behind her eyelids.

Forget his gun, Danny’s fingers should be classified as a lethal weapon. Slow and firm, then faster and lighter. The alternating strokes kept her body off guard as everything clenched and built toward—

His touch disappeared.

“Danny?” Her legs shifted, restless.