But he didn’t want to think about that now, didn’t dare think about it when she was here in his arms. Offering him everything he could ever want from her, more than he’d ever expected she’d give him.

Moving slowly, he propelled her through the doorway to his bedroom before walking her across the carpet and settling her gently on the bed. Then, because he couldn’t do anything else, he stepped back and looked at her for a few long moments.

“You are so beautiful.” He reached a hand out, stroked it gently down her cheek. “So damn beautiful it blows my mind.”

She blushed, nibbled on her lip, and he was shocked at the nervousness of his normally intrepid cop. “I won’t hurt you, sweetheart.” He crouched down next to her.

“I know.” She didn’t look him in the eye when she said it.

“Do you?” He toyed with a crazy blond curl, let it wrap itself around his finger for a moment. “Will you do something for me?”

“Yes.” For the first time since entering the bedroom, her eyes met his.

“No hesitation?” he murmured, reaching into his nightstand and pulling out one of the things he’d bought last night when he’d been thinking about Genevieve.

“I already agreed to do this, didn’t I?” She flicked her hair over her shoulder in a gesture he was already beginning to recognize meant she was annoyed, ready for the action to start. “I don’t change my mind halfway through.”

“No, you’re not a quitter, are you, sweetheart?”

“I wouldn’t know how to be.” She raised a challenging eyebrow, reached out and stroked her fingers down his chest. He felt his heart beat a little faster at the contact.

“Put this on for me.” He slid the silky length of material into her hands.

Genevieve paused, stared at the length of black silk. “Why don’t you put it on for me?” The eyes she raised to his were a f**k-you dare. “I thought that was the point of this little game.”

“The point is for you to trust me.” He leaned forward, nuzzled her cheek before sliding his lips to her ear. “Do it, sweetheart. Give yourself to me.”

For a long moment, she didn’t move, just let her body rest against his. He could feel her heart beating wildly, feel the increase in her breathing that she didn’t even try to hide. And then she was doing it, lifting the black silk to her face with hands that trembled so badly he wasn’t sure she’d be able to knot the fabric.

But she managed it, covering her eyes with the fabric and tying it so that the long ends trailed down her back. Her tongue darted out to wet lips that had gone dry with nerves. But her voice was unshaken when she said, “Now what?”

Fuck, the contradictions were going to kill him. So brazen and yet so untried, so hardheaded yet so vulnerable. It made him want to hold her gently, to f**k her uncontrollably. To be everything and anything to her that she needed. To make her do the same for him.

He stood up, moved back from the bed. Made sure his voice was as tough as hers when he said, “Take off your clothes.”

“Cole?” She turned her head to follow his voice, reached out a hand to where he’d been and whimpered when it came away empty. “What are you doing?”

“Anything I want. And right now, I want to see you take your clothes off for me.”

“I—”

“Don’t argue with me.” His voice was a whip that flayed at her insecurities. It had her standing and reaching for the buttons on the shirt before she was even aware of moving.

Taking a deep breath, Genevieve slid the first button free. Then the second and the third. Paused when she got to the fourth. It was disconcerting to stand here, completely blind, as she stripped herself for Cole’s visual pleasure.

“Don’t stop.” His voice was harsh—its rasp skated along her nerve endings.

“Why don’t you undress?” she asked, her voice trembling as she was.

“Because I’ll be inside you five seconds after I drop my zipper.”

“Mmm.” She moved her fingers, made quick work of the last three buttons. “I like the sound of that.”

“I thought you might. But we’re not going there yet.”

The air-conditioning kicked in and she felt the chill scoot between the open lapels of her shirt. It made her shiver, made her already turgid ni**les even harder.

Taking a deep breath, she allowed the shirt to slip off her shoulders, down her arms. Then stood there shivering as the cool air slipped over her body like a caress.

“Take off the panties too.”

Amazing how losing her sense of sight had her other senses straining. Would she have noticed how stressed his voice was if she’d been able to see him? Or would she have picked up on other, visual clues—clenched fists, tight shoulders, the wicked gleam he got in his eyes when he wanted to f**k her?

A whisper of movement had her listening intently. Cole had moved, and it was disconcerting, strange, not to know how far away he was from her. Or how close.

“Genevieve?”

The seductive smoothness of his voice drew her back to the task at hand and she slipped her thumbs into the thin straps of her underwear. Shimmied her h*ps and let the lace fall down her legs. When she felt the panties around her ankles, she kicked them away.

“Do you know how gorgeous you are?” His voice was close, closer than she’d expected. Turning toward it, she held out a hand. She wanted to feel him, needed the reassurance of his strong, hot body next to hers.

Her fingers met nothing but air. “Cole?”

“I asked you a question.”

Temper snapped through the uncertainly. “I thought it was rhetorical.”

“You thought wrong.”

There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of their breathing and the low hum of the air-conditioning.

Finally, Cole spoke. “So do you know how beautiful you are?”

She bit her lip, but the thought of him moving closer to her, touching her, was too tempting to resist. “My br**sts are too big and so is my ass.”

He laughed, a low, seductive sound that skirted along her nerve endings like the finest wine. “Your ass is perfect. Heart-shaped. Sexy. And your br**sts are the stuff fantasies are made of.” She felt the air shift around her, heard that soft rustle again. And nearly screamed when Cole licked gently at the underside of one breast and then the other.

She was feeling too vulnerable, too nervous, too out of control. Yanking her arms up, she covered her br**sts. And gritted her teeth at Cole’s mocking laugh.

“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”

“I don’t like this.”

He laughed again, thrust a hand between her thighs. Ran a finger over her very slick slit. “Sure you do. I can feel exactly how much you like it.”

Her knees trembled, threatened to collapse as he took a second to play with her clit. It was hard and throbbing, desperate for anything he would give it. One, two glancing caresses. A third, longer rub. She spread her legs, arched against the source of the insidious pleasure spreading through her.

And then he was gone, his touch disappearing as rapidly as her mind. She whimpered, reached for him, but again came up with nothing but air. “You’re so anxious, Genevieve. So hot.” There was that whisper again, just out of reach. “How much hotter can you burn, I wonder?”

“Much hotter and I’ll spontaneously combust,” she snapped, need drowning out the pride that had kept her relatively still to this point.

“Then we’re in trouble, sweetheart, because I’m just getting started.”

And then she was falling backward, caught off guard by the hard push to her shoulders. She cried out, reached a hand back to break her fall and ended up sprawled on the bed.

“Did you think I would let you fall?” His voice was farther away now, and she turned her head blindly, seeking comfort. Seeking him. “I promised I wouldn’t hurt you.”

She didn’t know how to respond. Her heart was still beating wildly, though the active fear had died down to mere apprehension.

She was sprawled half-on, half-off the bed and she wiggled backward, trying to get herself into a more dignified position. But Cole’s voice, so deep now that it was barely recognizable, stopped her squirming.

“Spread your legs for me, Genevieve.”

Immediately her thighs clamped shut, despite the electricity shooting through her. “Wha-what?” she asked, sounding more dazed than she would have liked.

“You’re so damn beautiful there. I want to see you.”

She’d never felt more vulnerable. How could he ask this of her? Wasn’t it enough that she’d let him blindfold her? Now he wanted more. He wanted everything.

“Cole—”

“I said do it, Genevieve!”

“Screw you!” She catapulted into a sitting position. “Stop ordering me around.”

There was a long silence, then, “It’s not an order if you want to do it.”

“I don’t!” Her hands clenched, fisted in the soft satin of the comforter beneath her. But she didn’t reach for the blindfold, not yet.

“Are you sure about that?” His voice was softly mocking, closer. So much closer than it had been.

“Yes.” But suddenly she was anything but. He was touching her again, running one finger down the valley between her br**sts, over her stomach, past her navel to her mons. He lingered there, toyed with the little strip of hair she hadn’t waxed.

Fire shot through her, had her falling back against the soft comforter even as she reached for Cole.

But he wasn’t there, despite the continued contact of that one finger sliding slowly between her thighs. Stroking her clit. Trailing over her labia. Thrusting inside of her.

“Cole!” She arched up, the pleasure of that one thrust so intense she nearly came, her legs falling open of their own volition.

“Genevieve!” he mimicked, but she could hear the strain in his voice. It was the same strain that had her breaking out in a sweat despite the cool air washing over her bare skin.

And then even his finger was gone. She whimpered, arched up, tried to find him again. “Do you want to come?” he asked, his mouth just inches away from her throbbing sex.

“Yes.” It was a whisper.

“I’m sorry.” His breath was hot against her pu**y and she moaned, thrusting her h*ps up as she desperately tried to get closer to him. “I can’t hear you.”

“Yes.” It was a gasp.

“Then touch yourself. Show me what you like.”

“Cole!” she wailed. “I want you. Please.”

“Oh, you’ll have me. Over and over again, you’ll take me. But first I want to see you pleasure yourself. I want you to make yourself come.”

“I can’t.” She was on fire, dying, her entire body crying out for him. She wanted to come, needed to with an intensity that bordered on madness. Yet to do as he suggested—while he watched and she could see nothing—was its own kind of madness.

“You will.” There was a long pause. “Come on, sweetheart. Touch those beautiful ni**les for me. Show me how you like to be stroked.”

Her hand trembled against the bedspread as she fought to ignore that black-magic voice. But he was a sorcerer, a demon, each word pulling her more and more under his spell, until all she wanted was to please him.

Slowly, trying to work up the nerve—trying to fight the utter vulnerability she felt—she brought her palm to her n**ed breast. Cupped it. Stroked it softly and sighed at the sheer relief of the contact.

“That’s it, baby,” Cole murmured, his voice little more than a growl. “Show me what you like.”

She shifted her hand, brushed her nipple once. Twice. Then squeezed it between her thumb and forefinger as Cole had done the night before. Pleasure cascaded from her br**sts to her pulsing sex.