he told her, setting the bunch of black padded straps on the edge of the bed and bending to remove his shoes. “Maybe to you it’s not.” “You’ve never been bound during sex?” he asked, removing his socks without taking his gaze off her. He looked very . . . hungry, Harper realized. “Just my wrists with some cheap handcuffs once.” “Metal ones?” “Yes,” she breathed out, her eyes going wide because he was lifting his shirt over his head, exposing his cut, muscular torso. She found everything about him delicious, but his round, steely biceps made her mouth water. They were power defined. She ate him up with her stare as he dropped the shirt carelessly to the floor. His smooth, golden brown skin gloved his muscles so tautly. She could bounce a quarter off his abdomen. He possessed the perfect amount of hair on his chest—not a pelt, but just enough to come off as one hundred percent virile male.
