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  “I don’t think you should go wandering around on this island without me,” said Gallagher crossly, a few hours later. He was seated at one end of the dining room table, which was big enough to hold ten people. It was vaguely rustic, with a thick countertop and dark wood that looked rough but had been varnished to an even shine. The companionable thing to do, now that she had a sandwich of her own, would have been to sit next to him. Instead she sat on the side, as far away as she could be without being on the other end.

  “I’ll do as I like. I have places for you to visit tomorrow.” She had, in fact, found reasonable places to shoot some of the scenes. The island had some drawbacks—no one would think the jungle belonged in the Mediterranean, for instance. But she’d stood for a couple of hours on the beach without seeing another soul and that was definitely good for shooting a movie. The Med was crowded by comparison, although of course there were spots. Here the sky and ocean were blue and seemed to stretch on forever. The little beach at the end gave a perfect feeling of isolation for the shipwrecked Odysseus, and most people wouldn’t look at a mangrove tree and know that it didn’t belong. Probably.

  There was blissful silence for a few minutes. Terry ate her sandwich, promising herself that tomorrow she’d take the time to cook a real meal. The movie had paid to have food here but hadn’t paid for anyone to prepare it, which was fine. Sometimes when she scouted places, she got to stay at five-star hotels and sometimes she ended up in straw huts. As things went, this was more toward the five-star than she’d expected.

  “Don’t you get lonely?” asked Gallagher.

  “No.” It wasn’t entirely true, but she didn’t want to get into it.

  “Or horny?”

  “We are not discussing that.”

  “Look, I’m not looking for a ro—” Gallagher looked up and Terry turned to follow his gaze. Kyle had entered the kitchen. He ignored the two of them and got out a cast-iron skillet.

  Roll in the hay? “Good,” said Terry. How many times did she have to say no?

  Gallagher dropped his voice a fraction. “Just, you know, men have needs. Some women do too.”

  Maybe Gallagher thought Kyle couldn’t hear him, but Terry wasn’t so sure. Kyle paused for a moment then opened the fridge. She realized she was staring, but there was a lot to stare at. He was wearing a plain white sleeveless undershirt and jeans. There was a tattoo of a dagger on his right biceps. The lines of it only seemed to make the indentations and bulges of sculpted muscle more obvious.

  To her dismay, Gallagher was getting up and changing seats to sit next to her. “You know, I’ve heard things about the people who run this place. They are not nice people. Sadists. You do not want to get involved with him.”

  It was probably good advice, but it did nothing to change the fact that the man was gorgeous. Telling her a man was dangerous had never decreased the attraction, even though she knew it should.

  Kyle plopped a large steak from the fridge onto the hot skillet and sprinkled salt and black pepper on it. He ignored Terry and Gallagher.

  “Look,” she said to Gallagher, “does the phrase ‘not if you were the last man on Earth’ mean anything to you?”

  Gallagher thought about it for about fifteen seconds before answering, “No.” Maybe his mouth was full.

  Terry rolled her eyes. He couldn’t be so stupid as to not understand her, could he? Maybe he didn’t have any better way to pass the time. She wasn’t going to send him out to shoot his silly video at night, as tempting as it was. Actually some night shots might be good to take—but after he got to know his way around, so he wouldn’t trip and break an expensive video camera. Not that Gallagher struck her as clumsy particularly, but distracted, maybe. Anyway, at night it was best to be careful, particularly in a strange place. She wondered if the spiders were more active at night or less. And then, not wanting to think about spiders or her unwanted sidekick, she decided to focus on her sandwich.

  A few minutes later Kyle set a plate with his steak on it down across from her and then went back to the kitchen. The steak looked cooked on the outside, but she didn’t think it had been on the skillet very long. Why did it not surprise her that he liked his steaks rare? She watched him make a big salad then come back to sit down. Now the salad surprised her. But she supposed if he ate potatoes with it he’d look a bit more like Gallagher.

  “So what do you do for a living, Kyle?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” he said. “I’m retired.”

  He wasn’t a babe in the woods, but he didn’t look that old either. Her guess was forties, maybe early forties. “From what?”

  “Military. Why?”

  “Just curious. So you live all alone on this island? I thought there were others.”

  “Carter lives here when he’s not with his girlfriend or flying for someone. So not that much lately. Tom has a job selling things that takes him all over. Roger works in Sydney. Roger’ll be here later in the week, I’m told. The others come and go whenever.”

  Gallagher cleared his throat uncomfortably. Clearly Kyle made him nervous. She had to admit he wasn’t the warmest man she’d ever met, but he intrigued her. And she thought she knew one clear way of getting Gallagher off her back.

  “Do you get lonely?” she asked.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Not usually.”

  Okay, that line worked no better on him than it did on her. Hell, she was no good at this. “You’re a very attractive man,” she said.

  That got a smile. “Thank you. You’re a pretty good-looking gal.”

  Maybe there was hope for the conversation after all. “What do you do here for recreation?”

  “Me? Well, the yard’s pretty big. You may have noticed. Keeps me busy. But at night, I usually take a swim in the pool or read a book.”

  “When you’re alone.”

  “Yes.”

  Gallagher leaned over toward her. “Not safe,” he whispered. She was almost sure Kyle could hear that.

  “Are you interested in what we could do together?” asked Kyle, looking amused.

  “I was thinking I might be.”

  He reached across the table and brushed a strand of hair back from her cheek. Then he glanced over at Gallagher. “You’ve got someplace else you need to be, I think.”

  For a moment, the two men locked eyes. Gallagher was bigger than Kyle, but Kyle had more muscle. And he’d been military, so he might know a trick or two. Still, she hadn’t intended to start a fight. She had wanted to get rid of Gallagher, of course, but she hadn’t expected Kyle to be so straightforward about it. She assumed Gallagher would get the hint, although he hadn’t been great with hints so far.

  “Fine,” he said at last and got up. He stalked off to the living room and up the stairs, leaving Kyle and her alone.

  She smiled.

  Kyle leaned forward, looking dead serious. “You wanted him away, so I helped. But he’s right. I’m not safe at all. When I’m not alone, but I’m with a woman, I tend to tie her up and do horrible, evil things to her. I like causing pain, Miss Barstow. Once I start, I like being told ‘yes sir’ and I don’t like being told no. It isn’t about love or romance or candlelight dinners, it’s about how much a woman can take—which is sometimes more than she expects. I expect her to be available anytime, anywhere, for anything I feel like doing.”

  Chapter Two

  Teresa ought to get up and leave. She knew that. He was telling her as much. Hell, he was trying to scare her off. He held her gaze for a long moment.

  “And do they usually appreciate this?” she asked, pleased with the feigned calmness in her voice.

  He looked surprised, but only for a moment. “Yes, actually. But it takes an unusual woman.”

  “A submissive.” She knew the lingo.

  “Not most submissives either.”

  “So you’re thinking I should run away and leave well enough alone.”

  “Something like that. If you want him to think we had a fuck, I
’ll play along. And there’s a vibrator in your room if you need to get off, although I suspect a smart girl like you packs her own.”

  She did, but that was beside the point. “That’s none of your business.”

  “It was only an observation. And you’re right, it’s not—but it would be if we were actually going to do anything together. I’d want to know everything. What color is it? Is it life-size or smaller or bigger? Realistically shaped or artistically abstract? I’d want to know exactly what it is you enjoy when pleasuring yourself.”

  “So you could do it?”

  He smiled. No, it was more of a smirk. “Possibly. Or possibly so I could make sure I withheld it. It all depends on what mood I’m in.”

  “What mood you are in.”

  “That’s what I said. I’m not in the habit of lying. Or sugarcoating.”

  “And I am not in the habit of rolling over.”

  Kyle chuckled. “Then it’s you and your vibrator. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “For one thing—anything, anywhere? Sex has to be safe or you’re an idiot.”

  “No one said anything about unsafe sex. Of course it has to be safe.”

  “And I’d have to be an idiot to let a man I barely know tie me up. Especially in private.”

  He grinned. “I could do it right here on this table.”

  Terry blushed. She wasn’t an exhibitionist. And the fact that the only person who might walk in on them was Gallagher made her stick out her tongue. “I don’t want to do anything where that guy could take video.”

  He laughed. “Okay, I’ll give on that one. You know, normally no one is around here except for my friends and women who are—well, open-minded enough to hang out with me and my friends. This is the first time anyone not connected to BDSM in some way has been here for the two years since we pitched in together and bought the island.”

  “That would be different.” Terry took a deep breath, because she wasn’t entirely sure it would be that different. The backseat of a car was about as public as she’d ever gotten, or imagined herself getting. And yet damn it all if the thought didn’t have her tingling. She remembered wondering what sex would be like on the hood of the car rather than the backseat. She hadn’t said anything back then because another car drove up. She fixed her gaze on him. The fact that he was willing to negotiate some had drawn her in. “And no tying me up in private.”

  “You know, that’s a very sensible rule, in general, and you’re a very sensible girl.”

  “So, agreed?” she pressed.

  “No.”

  “No? Why no?” I should tell him to take it or leave it. But she wanted to know.

  “Because it’s a sensible rule in the city, but it’s not a sensible rule here. You’re on an island. There’s a boat, granted, but I have the keys. It’s a hundred and fifty kilometers to the mainland with tons of jellyfish, and I don’t care how good a swimmer you are, you could never make it. So you’re trapped, from the start. You’re not any less or more trapped if you’re tied up. If I’m the kind of person that’s going to go crazy because you can’t run, scream, what have you— Well, you’re fucked from the start, aren’t you?”

  She hadn’t thought of it that way. And now that he’d said it, she wished she hadn’t. “There’s Gallagher. He’s here.”

  “And he’d protect you? From me?” He laughed.

  “He’s bigger than you.”

  “I’m meaner. And I’ve had years of training I very much doubt he has.”

  “I don’t know what training he has. And neither do you.”

  He shook his head. “There’s a way people carry themselves when they know how to fight. Especially when they’re challenged, as he was at the dinner table. He should have been trying to figure out how he was going to get up and set himself, but instead he was trying to decide if he could sit there and hope I wouldn’t do anything. He decided to run. Like it or not, Terry, all the power here is mine, and you are a very captive audience. But,” he spread his palms, “I would never take advantage of that without you agreeing to it. I’d give you a safe word. You know what a safe word is?”

  “It’s a word that if I said it, you’re supposed to stop.”

  “I knew you weren’t too innocent.” He grinned at her.

  “I’m not exactly a slut either.”

  “But you can be with me. You will be. Or,” he shrugged, “you can go enjoy the toys in your bedroom by yourself. There’s enough to keep you busy for a week. As far as I’m concerned, you’re Roger’s guest. I never wanted you here to begin with. I’m perfectly happy being alone.”

  She was only there for a week. Admittedly that week could get very uncomfortable alone—or almost alone—on an island if things didn’t turn out well. But she’d most likely never see him again after it was all said and done. She didn’t stick around on the set once everything was set up, usually. She didn’t intend to this time. She had an assignment in Berlin she was looking forward to and she planned to get started on it a week early.

  In any case, if he thought of her as a slut for the week and for the rest of his life, it wasn’t going to change anything in her life. She could let herself go this once. It was so tempting.

  “Still,” she said, “no ropes. I can always safe word them.”

  “Negotiation is a good thing.” He cut a piece of his steak and popped it into his mouth.

  “That’s a yes?”

  He waited until he finished chewing. “Some subs seem to think negotiation is where they get all of what they want, because when they play the Dom will be in charge and get all of what he wants. But negotiation is actually for both parties. I don’t play soft, Terry— Is it Teresa?”

  “No one calls me that.”

  “I do. I spent several days thinking Terry Barstow was a bloke and I want to get the image out of my mind. Teresa. I don’t play soft, because it’s no fun for me, and I like what I like. I’m not interested in guiding anyone gently into the wide world of BDSM—Roger will be here in a few days, and if that’s what you want that’s his gig. Anyway, first time with me, for someone without a lot of experience, yeah, I want you tied up. You’re less likely to get hurt if you can’t move at the wrong time. As to using your safe word—yes, you can. But if you’re going to do it over something I already know I’m going to do, we might as well skip the process.”

  She stared. What a maddening man. Didn’t he understand compromise? She’d been dating boys who liked to think they were bad and edgy for a long time, but they had always been willing to give to get sex. And she’d always ended up thinking of them as poseurs. Kyle, she suspected, was the real thing. That scared her, but she was aware that some of the need to squirm wasn’t out of fright. She was getting very wet, and she shouldn’t be.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “That’s very wise, I think.” He cut another piece of steak and chewed.

  “You could have made us all food as easily as you made one,” she said.

  “Yep. And so could you. There are more steaks in the fridge. Can you cook?”

  “Some.”

  “You,” he pointed out, “got dinner first.”

  She could feel her scowl deepening. “Why are you so—” She couldn’t decide whether the word she wanted was frustrating or unyielding or what, exactly.

  “I don’t ever try to be anyone but myself. You should try it sometime.”

  “You’re trying to scare me off.”

  “Am I? Maybe. I think there’s a ninety-nine out of one hundred chance that’s the best thing I can do for you, and for me. If it is, then yeah, I’ll happily scare you off.”

  “One percent, huh?” She had to admit the interview wasn’t going horribly well, but she would have thought she was doing better than that. Most women would have walked away. Most women have more sense of self-preservation. She wondered what he meant about how she should try being herself. She’d always thought of her boyfriends as the ones who were putting on an act, but maybe he was right. May
be she was too. Didn’t everyone in the end? Even Kyle. He couldn’t be that tough, could he?

  Yet he was perfectly calm, eating his steak as if they were talking about the weather. “Why am I down to one percent?” she asked and wished she hadn’t. It sounded pathetic, needy. She never wanted to be in that role. She always hid her needs. It was safer that way.

  He held her gaze while he finished chewing again. “Actually, one percent is an upgrade. It was definitely not when you got off the boat. It was one in a thousand when you started flirting with me to get rid of your friend.”

  Definitely not? She knew she was no movie star beauty. Actually, some movie star beauties weren’t that good-looking without their makeup. But she’d been around enough gorgeous people to know she wasn’t one. Still, she didn’t like to think any man took his first look at her and thought “definitely not” unless they were married, a priest or gay. Kyle didn’t seem to be any of those.

  “I do believe I’ve been insulted.” She got up. She needed to clear her head.

  He shrugged. “We’re all wrong sometimes.”

  Maybe there was another way to take it, but she didn’t know what it was.

  “The reason I want to tie you up is that I intend to do very intense things to you. Some pleasurable, some painful. And I don’t want you thrashing around and hurting yourself, or me, in the process. I don’t want you to concentrate on where to put your hands or what to do with your feet. I want all your focus on exactly what I’m doing to you and nowhere else, whether I’m teasing you, flogging you or fucking you.”

  The words brought a warm flush to her cheeks, and elsewhere. Teasing and fucking she understood. “Flogging,” she repeated. On the first date? But nothing he proposed was a date, not really. It was raw, physical. She had to believe there’d be an emotional component though, for herself if not for him.