...Tina fisted her hands, tensed all her muscles, struggled to hang onto control.

“I hate you,” she gritted out through clenched teeth.

“No, you don’t.”

“How do you figure that?” She strained her head around to glare at him.

He ducked his inward to plant a kiss on the end of her nose. “Because I can smell your arousal, sweetheart.”

A hand reached between her legs, exploring. She gasped as a finger glided through her folds.

“And you’re wet, Tina—dripping. You’re enjoying this.”

The fact that he might be correct didn’t make her feel any more kindly toward him or the situation. “Dickhead.”

“Ah. Your old pet name for me. You remembered.”

“Go ahead and joke.” It’s not funny.

She remembered too much right now, especially that last year of high school when they’d spent nearly every night at the library, studying together, and she’d wanted so much more—when she’d watched Angel and Giorgio fall in love and wished with such longing she and Dave could do the same. But the dickhead had never viewed her as anything more than a pal. He’d treated her like a kid sister, when she had enough friggin’ brothers already—seven of them, for chrissake.

“Your dad has an unusually high sperm-count,” her wry-witted mother used to say.

Cute, Mom. Ever consider having your tubes tied?

“But if I had, I never would have had you, precious,” the reply always came. “I wanted to keep trying till I got a girl—all sugar and spice and everything nice.”

Not anymore. Tears stung Tina’s eyes. Just look what mama’s little precious had become.

She could see the truth of the matter now. Clarity struck like a punch to the gut. Hell, it was mostly Dave’s fault she’d turned herself into a femme fatale. He’d made her feel so damned undesirable back then, she’d been working her butt off ever since to prove the contrary.

The thought drove her to a fresh frenzy of squirming and writhing. “I want out of here, damn it. Now!”

“Quiet!” A sharp smack on her ass punctuated the order. “Hold still or you’re going to get spanked.”

“I’m what?” She almost choked on the words.

“You heard me. In fact…” He smoothed his palm over the flesh he’d just stung. “You’re probably going to get a spanking, anyway. I mean, these sweet cheeks are just begging for it. Really.”

Arrgh… Outrage lowered her voice to a growl. “You. Wouldn’t. Dare.”

Dave snorted. “Get real. I’ve already stripped you and chained you to a cross. You surely can’t think I’m above whipping you, too. Hell, I do this sort of thing for a living. People pay good money to get what I’m giving you for free.”

Oh, shit…

Her stomach knotted. She broke out in a sweat. “I…I’ll pay you to stop!”

“Nope, I couldn’t possibly accept money from an old friend. This one’s on the house, babe. Relax and enjoy it.”

He strolled around the cross to survey the wall before her, the one on which the instruments of punishment were displayed. Quite an impressive display, too. And she didn’t mean the paddles and floggers. The sight of a naked Dave was almost enough to make her forget what he planned. He had looked sexy as sin in his clothes. Out of them, he looked lethal. God, he was ripped.

Chills swept her—hot and cold—an evil, erotic blend of desire and dread. Her heart pounded as he selected one of the floggers, a short-handled one with multiple leather strips dangling from it. Ouch. Then he grabbed a handful of foil packets off a nearby table. Condoms, she guessed. Marvy. At least he practiced safe sex.

Gee, why did she find no comfort in that thought?

Her breath quickened as he strolled back to the cross, wearing that wicked grin and a huge hard-on. Holy hotdog. His erection had seemed big enough when she’d felt it, but it appeared to have grown. Considerably. This bondage scene aroused him, didn’t it?