Free Bound and Determined by Shayla Black Page A

the face of her bound vulnerability intrigued him nearly as much as her beautiful breasts. Still, the thought she believed he would hurt her disturbed him.
    “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not a bully and I don’t get off on a woman’s pain.”
    “You can’t go anywhere!”
    “Watch me.”
    Rafe frowned as he crossed the room and stretched to retrieve the handcuff key he’d seen her set there earlier. Nomatter how he tugged and pulled, he was two inches too short to reach that damned windowsill.
    “I put the key there because you can’t get to it,” Kerry pointed out, a hint of smugness in her voice.
    Nope, he wasn’t giving up. There had to be some way . . . any way.
    By sitting on his ass and reaching with his toes, he came closer, but still no cigar. Behind him, he heard Kerry sigh in relief. Damn her!
    Gaze circling the room, Rafe looked for a hanger, a pen. Something long and sturdy would do the trick. He saw nothing to fit that description except his dick, still standing straight and tall and looking for action. Too bad it didn’t qualify.
    Finally, he resorted to faint hope and the skills he’d picked up playing high school baseball. Grabbing one of his shoes from the floor, Rafe took aim at the necklace and tossed it. One of his black Italian wingtips made a loud whack as it hit the window. It thudded down on the hardwood floor.
    Rafe smiled. The key fell that final two inches closer. He reached until he grasped it in his palm.
    Kerry gasped. “Ohmigod . . . No! You’re leaving, aren’t you? You can’t leave!”
    Quickly, Rafe unlatched Kerry’s necklace, setting the chain aside, then made quick work of his remaining shackle. It gave way with the sound of a metal crunch. He let it retract all the way back to the bed’s special compartments and smiled.
    “Sure I can. Are my clothes in the closet?”
    “Someone will come looking for me.”
    “Good, then I won’t have to worry about you getting free after I’m gone.”
    “What about our bargain?” she demanded. “Forty-eight hours and all that?”
    Rafe shrugged. He hadn’t really meant that. He would have promised her a round-trip ticket to Fiji if he’d thought that would have lured her close enough to beat her at her own bondage game. Despite the fact his scheme had enabled him to touch Kerry—something he’d damn near been dying to do—bartering his services for sex hadn’t been his plan. But Kerry’s voice induced him to look at her.
    Big mistake. She was amazing naked and bound. Soft, slender neck, round breasts that fit his palms so perfectly, hard berry nipples. He held in a groan, but even as he did, her body drew his eyes down over her gently rounded abdomen, the flare of a woman’s hips, to the downy pale thatch that protected the slick confection of her core.
    “Please,” she called. “You have every right to be mad at me. I should not have kidnapped you—”
    “That’s right,” he growled. “I told you to leave me alone over the phone for a reason.”
    “But I need your help. No one will listen to me. Not the police, not Mark’s boss. I tried to hire a detective, but I couldn’t afford one on a waitress’s pay. I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t just stand around while my brother went to prison.”
    Her voice trembled. Rafe jerked his gaze back to her face. She didn’t cry. But the resolution hardening her face, shining from her mossy green eyes, shocked him. Even naked and at a virtual stranger’s mercy, Kerry didn’t think of herself. She didn’t think anything of her pride. Instead, her every thought was for the brother she loved. Kerry had risked her future, her safety, even wagered her body to help Mark.
    Again, the depth of her caring and loyalty stunned him. He’d never known anyone that steadfast. Certainly, he’d always known if his father had to choose between booze and paying attention to his only son . . . well, Dad’s hangover would attest to his choice. Either Kerry