Night Music

Meghan Davies has been living a dream as the bass player for the all-female hit rock band, The Sirens. But the dream becomes a nightmare with the discovery that cancer, undetected and now too far gone, heralds the end of everything.

Romney Kearns has been watching the sharp-tongued, flame haired woman from afar, wanting, but never approaching because he can offer her nothing but death.

When he discovers that death already has her marked, he sets out on All Hallow’s Eve to seduce her, claim her, and make her willing to accept his dark offer. An alternative. Not life as she’s known it, but a kind of rebirth. Eternity with him and immortality for her to make night music.

  • Romance Junkies 5 Blue Ribbon Award
  • Just Erotic Romance Reviews, 4 Stars
  • Fallen Angel Reviews, 5 Angels

“Night Music is a continuation of The Sirens’ story that was begun in The Gripping Beast. This does not disappoint. Meghan is a fantastic character that refuses to let life beat her down. Romney is the perfect sensual match for her.”

– Fallen Angel Reviews, 5 Angels

“Although Night Music is part of The Sirens series, this short story can stand on its own. The characters are surprisingly well developed for the length of the story…This fast paced story is a quick and easy read that also satisfies. The steaming hot sex is just right.”

– Joyfully Reviewed

“A smooth and well-written paranormal romance makes NIGHT MUSIC a welcome addition to the Beginnings Anthology. Meghan is a heroine with heart, grit and spirit. Good characterization and clever pacing makes NIGHT MUSIC a wicked pleasure.”

– Wantz Upon a Time, 4 Books

“Charlene Teglia created a wonderful story in Night Music. It is a short story packed with emotion. Charlene Teglia combines incredible characters, out of the world passion, and superb writing into a book not to be missed.”

– TwoLips Reviews, 4 Kisses

“Charlene Teglia’s Night Music is the second story in The Sirens series that she started with the full length novel, Gripping Beast. The love scenes are explosive…Ms. Teglia is a gifted story teller.”

– Just Erotic Romance Reviews, 4 Stars

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this page.

Copyright 2006 Charlene Teglia
Samhain Publishing
All rights reserved

Meghan wasn’t surprised to see the orchids waiting for her when the band finished for the night. They were signed with nothing more than the initials R.K., but she knew they came from her mysterious Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome. He never spoke to her, although she often saw him at their concerts, no matter where in the world they performed.

This was their last live performance of the year, so she would have been amazed if he hadn’t sent her flowers, even if she hadn’t seen him in the audience.

She was going to miss the flowers. Meghan wondered briefly if he’d send them to her funeral, then dismissed the thought as ghoulish. It might be Halloween tonight, but that was no reason to dwell on the dark future. The present mattered, and in the present she could enjoy the shape and scent of orchids and be happy that somebody had thought of her.

In spite of the increasing incidence of violence from stalkers, Meghan’s mystery man didn’t worry her. Not just because she was a dead woman anyway, but because Lorelei wasn’t worried. And because he fascinated Meghan. She was always a little disappointed when he vanished after a performance.

“He sent you flowers again,” Lorelei said, appearing beside her as if conjured by the thought of her name.

“You didn’t think he’d forget tonight, did you?” Meghan asked.

“No.” Lorelei touched one blossom with a fingertip. “Invite him home with you.”

“I’d have to talk to him to do that,” Meghan pointed out.

Lorelei smiled at her. “He has a backstage pass.”

“And you know this because you’re psychic?”

“I know this because I gave it to him. I checked him out. Erik checked him out. Erik says he can afford you, by the way.”

Erik had high standards when it came to finances. Mystery Man had serious net worth. That might be nice to know if she was contemplating anything long-term, but long-term was not an option.

“I’m not exactly in the market for a relationship,” Meghan said. “And you know why.” It was unfair and it pissed her off, and anger gave her voice a serrated edge.

Lorelei shrugged. “So don’t have a relationship. Have sex. He looks like he’d make it worth your while.”

Meghan felt her mouth twitch. “Go out with a bang.”

“Well, you can limit yourself to hands if you want to, but I think you’ll be missing out.” Lorelei gave her a wicked look, then went to join her husband across the room, as if the conversation had given her ideas. Or maybe she just wanted to work off the charge built up from performing. The Sirens played sexually charged music rumored to have a very enjoyable impact on the audience’s libido.

It affected Meghan’s libido, enough to make her seriously consider taking Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome home with her.

Go out with a bang. That would be some trick or treat. Well, why not? She wasn’t too tired. She’d rested all day and the performance hadn’t drained her. At least, if it had she wasn’t feeling it yet. This was likely to be her last opportunity, and Lorelei was right, he did look like he’d make it worth her while. He looked predatory and dangerous and not at all gentle.

That suited her mood. Meghan didn’t want gentle. She wanted release from the unbearable tension inside her, the anger and want and need abrading her nerves. Angry because she wasn’t finished, wasn’t ready. She wanted more, needed more, and couldn’t find it in herself to accept her fate.

Fate could kiss her ass.

She was going to miss out on plenty. She didn’t have to miss out on tonight. If he came backstage. If he gave her an opportunity, Meghan was going to take it.

And then he was there, in front of her. He seemed even more dangerous up close. Good.

Meghan gave him a long look. “You didn’t disappear this time.”

Rom smiled at her, liking her attitude, her straightforward manner. She didn’t flirt. She simply stood there and looked at him, an attitude of sexual challenge in the line of her body and her posture and her eyes that said come and get me if you dare.

He dared.

“No. I didn’t disappear this time.”

She smiled then, her red-lipsticked mouth curving in that shape that made him want to take a bite. “I should ask you your name. I should ask you what you do.”

“My name is Romney Kearns. I do software.”

“Oh.” Her soft smoky gaze moved over him in unhurried, lingering exploration. The way her eyes turned darker told him she liked what she saw. “You don’t look like a geek. Not skinny enough.”

“Too much pizza,” Rom explained.

She nodded. “The staple of software wizards. I guess you’re safe to leave with, then.”

“Not safe,” he corrected softly. He smiled into her eyes and gave in to the desire to taste her. One taste, in a room full of people. He could take that much and be certain it wouldn’t go too far. His hands spread over her shoulders, drew her close. His head lowered to hers.

Her mouth was soft, sweet, filled with dark mystery and living heat. Hunger grew and licked at them both with fiery tongues. The kiss deepened, turned savage. Rom tasted the bright copper flavor of blood and gentled, kissing it away, savoring each drop and the essence of her.

Hunger thrummed in his veins, and it was an effort not to scrape his teeth over her lower lip and spill more. He wanted to sink his teeth deep into her flesh and drink until his thirst was quenched.

Rom knew his eyes burned when he loosened his hold and set her from him. “I’m not safe at all. You should run away.”

She touched the tip of her tongue to the graze in her lower lip. “I’m not much for aerobics. Not much for playing it safe, either.”

“No,” Rom agreed, still tasting the sweet, reckless flavor of her. She tasted wild, hot, as if the life that was slipping away wanted to use itself up.

He didn’t want to take her home with him, to the suite of offices and living space he shared with Val. He didn’t want to share her or this night with Val, and not because he wanted to spare the man’s feelings. Rom wanted to mark her, to possess her, claim her, and instinct told him to take her far from any potential rivals. He had never wanted another woman the way he wanted this one. He wanted her alone and aware of only him.

“We’ll go to your place. Invite me.”

Her brows arched at his wording. “You’re invited.”

“I accept.” Rom picked up a blossom in one hand and placed the other on the warm curve of her waist. He tucked the flower behind her ear, in the long fall of her hair.

The flower’s exotic perfume mingled with the scent of aroused woman. The change heightened all senses, allowing him to note minute differences in respiration, the rush of blood beneath the skin heralding a blush—the thousand tiny physical signs of human reaction were his to read. Fear, deception, lust, they all marked the body in various ways.

Meghan wasn’t hiding anything from him and she didn’t fear him. She wanted him. That might change, but for now the pulse beating at her throat meant desire. The musky scent of her heat made the hunger sharpen. He pictured her naked, limbs open and sprawled in invitation, allowing him to taste her everywhere.

The thought alone strained his control. It may have been a mistake to go to her without feeding elsewhere first, but he hadn’t wanted to wait. He’d waited long enough already.

The Gripping Beast

Sirens Book 1

The wild magic that brought them together is nothing compared to what they find in each other’s arms.

Lorelei Michaels, flamboyant lead vocalist of the all-female rock band The Sirens, has a passion for myths and legends. She just never expected to find herself actually living one.

While touring with the band, a Viking armband with an interesting history and a design known as the gripping beast throws her into a time warp full of Norsemen, macho attitudes and a lamentable lack of modern amenities.

Upon seeing the strange, beautiful woman being auctioned off, Erik Thorolfsson was mesmerized. Until the slave trader put his hands on her. With a roar of rage and sword drawn, he charged forward to take that which he wanted for his own. But he discovers owning her isn’t enough. He has to make her his – for all time.

print ISBN: 1-59998-055-X

  • 2006 Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award Nominee, Best Erotic Romance
  • Romantic Times 4 1/2 Star Top Pick
  • Love Romances Reviewer’s Choice Golden Rose Award

“This book is more than an erotic bedtime story — it’s an entrancing tale of romantic love, with sensual scenes and characters that will live in readers’ minds for a long time.” – Romantic Times 4 1/2 Stars TOP PICK

“I very much enjoyed The Gripping Beast! It’s a well-written romantic tale that captivated me from the beginning. The Gripping Beast is a book I intend to read again and again!” – Joyfully Reviewed

“Ms. Teglia has created the ideal time travel story. By the end of this novel, I had no doubt these two were in love and felt their connection in every passage.” – Just Erotic Romance Reviews, 4.5 Stars

“THE GRIPPING BEAST is time travel fantasy at its best. Charlene Teglia is quickly working her way onto my automatic buy list. She’s truly a talented and promising author.” – Romance Reviews Today

“The Gripping Beast is one of the best time travel romances I have ever read. Keep an eye on this author and publisher.” – Fallen Angel Reviews, 5 Angels

“If you haven’t heard of Charlene Teglia, you will soon. I loved this story! Not only are the characters original, the story is unusual, the humor catching.” – Romance Divas, 4 1/2 Stars

“The author describes Viking times so well that you can almost picture yourself on the longboat. Lorelei and Erik are never boring, always challenging each other. Lorelei helps Erik find his sense of humor as well as love. I picked this one up and did not put it down until the last page.” – The Romance Studio, 4 Hearts

“THE GRIPPING BEAST is a great book full of action and adventure that readers will dive into and stay until the very end. Charlene Teglia has a knack for creating wonderful stories with interesting characters that will keep readers coming back for more.” – Romance Junkies, 4 Blue Ribbons

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this page.

Copyright 2006 Charlene Teglia
Samhain Publishing
All rights reserved

“You would do well to look for an advantage in trade, not battle,” Erik lectured as he kept a firm grip on Harold’s broad shoulder and drew him along. Harold would do even better to learn to think before acting, he continued silently.

Harold responded with the crooked smile that never failed to charm a woman and was indirectly responsible for the fact that Erik was stuck with him for the summer.

“Brother, where is the fun in that? Four long weeks I’ve spent, watching you haggle in the marketplace. It lacks excitement. If that is all you come to Hedeby for, you may continue alone. I for one must have some sport before I find myself at sea with you once more.”

His intent was clear in the longing gaze he fixed on a curvaceous wench.

Erik sighed inwardly. A woman was the reason for Harold’s banishment from home for the summer. Apparently, he had failed to learn a lesson from the beating Gudred’s brother had given him for stealing a kiss.

The reminder that Harold was not alone in his needs irked him further. But duty must come first, Erik reminded himself. While he had nearly completed his trading, he thought he might still find some small and profitable items to add to the goods already loaded onto his longboat in exchange for its former cargo of rich Northern furs, amber and falcons.

“There will be time for that when the ice keeps us home.” Erik delivered the firm reminder with a stern look.

Then he cursed his choice of words inwardly. If Harold did not learn to behave himself at home, his penchant for indiscriminate wenching and brawling would soon have him outlawed and banished permanently. Their father, Thorolf, might be jarl, but he could ill afford failure to enforce the laws on his own family.

The northern summers didn’t last long, and it was only once a year that they could venture out on the long trading voyages so vital to the prosperity of the Norse settlements. Cloth they couldn’t weave themselves like the fine brocades from the Byzantine, patterned silks from China and the blue wools dyed with woad from Frisia were much in demand, as were the spices, metals and leather goods to be found in the large trade centers.

“You are well acquainted with ice,” Harold muttered under his breath in reply.

But he followed Erik’s wide strides along the wooden planking that covered the muddy streets.

Then he brightened, seeing the direction Erik was taking, a direct route to a slaver displaying his wares. “Ah, I take it back,” he teased. “I see we think alike after all.”

Erik paused to shoot a mistrustful glance at Harold. “You have an interest in trade now?”

“Of a certainty,” his brother vowed.

Erik shook his head. He did not believe for the time it took to take one step that Harold shared his interest in the Egyptian glass works in the temporary tent set up between the town’s permanent traders and the outer ramparts. The flattened glass oblongs were used to press pleats into linen skirts. The opportunity to supply such a fashionable novelty struck him as a good choice to round out his return cargo, likely to prove highly lucrative.

“Oh, by Thor, what a fine idea,” Harold continued. He gave Erik an affectionate clout which that recipient longed to return in force. “I like the look of that one.” Harold waved a cheerful hand towards a group of girls that stood between the two men and their goal.

Erik sighed inwardly again. He might have known. The day Harold grew interested in serious matters, Loki would be running loose and Ragnarok would begin. He doubted that Harold had even noticed the Egyptian’s tent the previous day.

“So does the crowd,” Harold went on. “He is offering her up first. What an odd dress she has on,” he added in surprise. “Perhaps she comes from the far east.”

Distracted from his purpose, Erik stared first at his brother, then at the object of his attention.

The foreign woman was indeed dressed oddly. And very beautifully. The flowing green gauze hid little and the upper part of the dress, if it was a dress, revealed even more. Erik felt his heart slam against the wall of his chest and stop.

Beautiful. She was a vision of loveliness. Erik had never seen a woman with the look she had, not in any part of the world he had visited. Sleek black hair fell in a glossy swath to her narrow waist and light green eyes sparkled like emeralds above exotic high cheekbones.

He didn’t realize he had come to a complete halt and was gaping at the dark woman like a man ensorcelled. He knew only that she was beauty come warmly to life, and at that moment he wanted nothing more than to simply look at her for the rest of his days. That was his only thought, until he realized that every other man, save a blind beggar, was looking at her, also. And that the slaver, probably thinking to get a higher price for her, had ordered her to strip.

He wasn’t quite certain what happened next, and perhaps it all happened simultaneously. The man put his hands on her. She started to shriek and fight like a berserker. And Erik drew his sword.

He didn’t notice when his brother and the crew, trailing behind them, followed suit. He didn’t know they took up his roar of rage and charged into the fight at his lead.

He only knew he would kill every man standing who saw what he wanted for himself alone.

The hapless slave trader might never know what provoked the Vikings to charge down on him, but he demonstrated an instinct for self-protection as he thrust the woman between his own body and the crazed Norse giant ready to cleave him with a sword.

Through a red haze of fury, Erik caught the woman around her waist and yanked her against his side as he thrust the point of his sword against the coward’s throat. Then a thread of sanity returned and stayed his arm.

He could not start a bloodbath in the trade port.

He could not set such a terrible example for Harold. As it was, he cursed inwardly at the sight of his delighted sibling exchanging blows with a burly Moor. And his men. They lived in adjoining farmsteads. They looked to his father for leadership, and expected him to prove himself a worthy leader.

He would not lead them into lawlessness. The days of going Viking were in the past. With the establishment of the Danelaw and the treaty with Alfred of Wessex, as well as the settlement in Normandy by conquering raiders, peaceful trade replaced plundering as a means for gaining wealth.

Decided, Erik flipped a silver coin in the air and slashed sideways with his sword.

The halved coin fell at the slaver’s feet. He felt at his throat as if checking to be certain it was intact before he reached down for the coin.

“Half,” Erik grated out in rough Arabic.

“All,” the man returned slyly, glancing around. “I’ll need to replace the girl. Do you think I can make an honest living in this way?”

It was the wrong tactic. A flash of the ornate sword hacked the coin again and left one quarter lying in the dirt. The rest he handed to Harold. “The bargain is done,” he stated, holding the cowardly little man’s eyes.

Defeated, the man nodded.

Erik scanned the crowd gathered around the fighters with equal directness. There were no challenges. They’d witnessed the bargain struck.

Satisfied, he turned and strode to the tent displaying the flat glass oblongs and pointed at them. “I want some of these,” he informed Harold, speaking Norse once more. “Take care of it and deliver them to the ship.”

Then he left the Egyptian merchant facing the band of Vikings and made for his longboat with the woman under his arm like an unwieldy package.

Miss Lonely Hearts

Byline/Metaline – Use for meta information

Siren’s Series Prequel

Love, larceny and lies.

When is a love letter not a love letter? When it’s mail fraud. Or in this case, female fraud.

Jason Alexander is one angry Alaskan, and he’s out to get his woman; the letter-writing Lolita who’s running the Miss Lonely Hearts con game in his bailiwick. She’s taking lonely Alaskans for a roller-coaster ride and cashing in on love. When she hits his adopted home, the patrons of his bar The Last Resort, the retired gambler takes it personally and goes out for justice.

Cassandra Adams has just been dumped by ex-fiancé number two. She’s fed up with Romance Roulette and ready to trade her rosy daydreams for hardheaded practicality. The logical solution? She’s going to search the classifieds for the mail-order marrying man she wants.

She thinks she’s found him in Jason, alias Alex Sanders. He thinks he’s hooked Miss Lonely Hearts. And the regulars at The Last Resort think it’s high time Jason got married, so they’re not about to clarify matters when they discover his mistake.

Together Jason and Cassandra will have to cut their way through the tangle of love, larceny and lies to unmask Miss Lonely Hearts and find a happy ending that’s a sure bet.

Place awards here.

I have yet to read a story by Charlene Teglia that I do not love, and this author has done it again. With her own special blend of humor and sex appeal, she has delivered a delightful little romance guaranteed to warm even the coldest of nights – whether you live in Alaska or not!” – CK2S Kwips and Kritiques

Jason and Cassandra are great characters. They are easy to relate to and root for. The chemistry between the two is hot! The by-play between the two was electric and the internal dialog was fascinating and fun to read. I hope that Ms. Teglia brings us back to this small Alaskan town with more of their stories. This is a book I would definitely recommend to a friend looking for quick pick-me-up read.” – Fallen Angel Reviews

I really enjoyed this story. The author does not overload it with extra characters and makes each and every one of the quirky denizens of The Last Resort special, even the interchangeable and silent Lawrence twins…This is a warm and funny story that I will definitely read again and if we gave out half cups this would get 4 ½ cups for sure.” – Coffee Time Romance

Here is an author who knows how to bring on the sweet romance, laughter, and the wonders of love! Charlene Teglia always leaves me satisfied and Miss Lonely Hearts was no different.” – The Romance Studio

Miss Lonely Hearts is a delightful story of crossed signals with a boatload of amusing misconceptions. These two heat up the bedroom (and anywhere else that’s handy) and author Charlene Teglia has a great knack for making their instantaneous intense sexual connection seem very believable. I found the non-stop banter between these two quirky characters very enjoyable…a fun and frisky read. – TwoLips Reviews

The characters are charming, the setting is beautiful and the plot flows smoothly with plenty of laugh out loud captivating scenes to ensure you finish reading this book in one sitting. While the beginning of Cass and Jason’s relationship seems off to a rocky start, I was completely won over by Jason’s friends who were taken in by the real MISS LONELY HEARTS and once it’s revealed who had pulled the scam . . . well let’s just say I’m really hoping there will be a story that divulges what happens next because I’m dying of curiosity…MISS LONELY HEARTS is a truly delicious tale.” – Romance Junkies

This is a very sweet story, I fell in love with the characters…There was a steam and chemistry between them that made you want this marriage to work. The sex scenes were very hot, and, I thought, very well written. This is the first book I’ve read by Charlene Teglia, but it will not be the last. She spun a tale full of romance and humor, which I loved.” – Enchanting Reviews

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this page.

Copyright 2007 Charlene Teglia Samhain Publishing All rights reserved

“Thank you for getting us out of there. I didn’t want to have the first screaming fight of our marriage in front of all those witnesses,” Cass said.

He set his glass down and stared at her. “Excuse me?”

She stared right back at him. “When were you going to tell me?”

He leaned forward and placed his hands on her shoulders in a firm grip, as if he was worried that she’d bolt. Ha. She wasn’t going anywhere until they had this out. And then, well, they’d see.

“I was going to tell you, but I thought it might be best to have that conversation in private. For obvious reasons. And I thought I should make you some coffee first, in case the punch was still affecting your judgment.” He studied her face, not at all discomfited by her deduction but with a lot of interest. “What gave it away?”

“I read a lot of nonfiction,” she said.

“That would explain why the grout article had you so fascinated. You wanted some nice calm facts to fix your mind on during the trip instead of worrying about marrying a mystery man.”

Ignoring him, she went on, “Last year I read a book called Blink. It’s about how most of the thinking we do we never know we do. Little cues that we process and store away and aren’t consciously aware of. And we use this information we don’t know we have to make all sorts of decisions.”

“Sounds right.”

“There were a lot of little cues and I started to think about them.” Cass started to tick them off, one by one.

“You came to meet me in Seattle and you talked to me like you knew me. You were trying to get a rise out of me, but you were too accurate with your shots. Sam and Mona and everybody else fell all over themselves to make this happen fast, before I could back out, and they were all happy for you. Not for somebody who wasn’t there. You. They looked at us together like they approved, and like they had something to do with it. You kissed me like you had a right to and I kissed you back the same way.”

She realized as she said it she was now staring at his mouth. She jerked her attention away from it before it distracted her and focused on his eyes again. “That was the biggest clue, I think. That wasn’t a sneaking around kind of kiss. That and the way you were always touching me was like some kind of body language branding that said my woman. So why didn’t you just tell me it was you?”

Cass really tried not to, but she ended on a near-scream. Maybe she needed to count to ten once more. Or maybe to one hundred. She really didn’t want to start throwing things at him when she might regret it later.

“You didn’t seem very impressed with me in person, for starters,” Jason pointed out.

“I’m less impressed that you made up Alex. What was behind that?”

He started to answer, stopped and shook his head. “You want answers. You’re entitled to them. And I will give them to you. But first, I want to make you an offer.”

“I’m listening.”

He took both of her arms, tracing his hands along her skin, up to her shoulders. “Do you feel that?”

She started to laugh in spite of herself. “Is that a joke? I’m out of practice but I’m not dumb.”

Jason smiled at her. “I never thought you were.” Then his face went serious. “We get one chance at creating the memory of our wedding night. I don’t want to look back on tonight and remember how much I wanted to be with you and instead I spent the night on the couch. Tomorrow I will tell you anything you want to know. I will answer every question. I will explain the picture, everything. Tonight, I want you.”

The hell of it was, she wanted him, too. And even though she knew he’d lied to her, she trusted him. It was beyond dumb, but there was probably some subliminal cue that made her believe she could trust him.

Of course, it could also be the way he was touching her and the dud year of sex she suddenly wanted to make up for. If there ever was a man who could make up for a dud year of sex, it was the one in front of her.

Figuring action spoke louder and words had only gotten them in trouble so far anyway, Cass stripped off her shirt, tossed it on the bar, and followed it with her bra before she lost her nerve.

“That looks like yes.” Jason pulled her up onto the bar and she cooperated by climbing up to meet him. He drew her forward, facing him. Her legs fell to either side of his body as he drew her closer, until she was balanced on the edge of the bar with him standing between her legs.

She felt him reach for something she couldn’t see and then he slid a brightly decorated gift bag across the bar top until it touched her hip. “Mona gave us a present,” he said. “I’m guessing there will be condoms in here.”

Cass tipped the bag over and let the contents spill free.

There were condoms. In a range of flavors. Gel that heated when applied to skin. Two kinds of lubricant, one non-vaginal. A Bad Boy vibrator. Handcuffs. A pink flogger. Three sort-of-jeweled clips with dangling beads that weren’t earrings and that Cass had no idea what to do with but Jason probably did.

No matter what else happened after tonight, one thing was clear. Her year of dud sex was officially over.

“Dear God.”

She caught Jason’s expression of horror as he stared at the items scattered on the bar top beside her and giggled. “I guess that means you don’t want to take turns with the little whip?”

“I think we can skip that one, yes.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She picked it up and flicked it experimentally. “You’ve been bad. Lying to me. Maybe you should be spanked.”

Jason plucked it out of her grasp and hid it underneath the bar. “Maybe you shouldn’t mix alcohol with bondage and discipline.”

“Does that mean you don’t want to play with these, either?” Cass scooped up the handcuffs and dangled them in front of him.

“Maybe.” He took them from her and turned them in his hands, examining them. “Hmm. They don’t look dangerous.” Jason snapped one over her wrist, tugged it behind her back, and cuffed her other hand. “How does that feel?”

Cass looked down at herself. She was naked from the top down, seated on a bar, her hands cuffed behind her back, with a man who was a virtual stranger standing between her open thighs. “Pretty damn kinky.”

“Anything else?”

She licked her lips, suddenly aware of her nipples hardening into two tight buds, her sex growing swollen and slick, and waves of heat rippling through her body. “Hot.”

Jason’s eyes went darker. “I meant, did they pinch or feel uncomfortable. But if they make you hot, we’ll keep them.”