I turn to him, a stupid grin spreading across my face.
“Becker… I hope you can keep up,” I giggle, poking his chest.
He looks at me.
There’s no panic in his eyes.
There’s a dark, amused spark—hot as hell.
“This should be interesting,” he murmurs, lips brushing my ear. “Especially when we have to take those clothes off tonight. Or when you decide you want one of those boiling-hot showers.”
Tina moves from table to table.
The metallic clicks echo through the room.
She cuffs Silas and Daisy. The second the lock snaps shut, Daisy throws her arm up to wave at someone and yanks Silas’s arm with her, nearly flipping the table.
“Off to a great start,” he mutters.
Finally, Tina reaches us.
I offer my left wrist, giggling. Cohen offers his right.
“The Captains,” Tina says, eyes gleaming. “Let’s see if your chemistry survives forced cohabitation.”
CLICK.
Cold metal closes around my wrist, softened by pink fur.
The chain is short.
Very short.
We’re forced shoulder to shoulder.
Cohen moves his arm—and mine follows like a puppet.
We’re bound.
He looks at me, his face inches from mine.
“Well, Angel,” he whispers, lacing our cuffed fingers together. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”
I swallow. The rum buzz is fading, replaced by an electric awareness.
“I wasn’t planning on running,” I reply, my eyes dropping to his lips.
“Good.”
His voice drops lower.
“Because I plan on using every inch of this chain.”
69
A Hundred Uses for a Pair of Handcuffs
Cohen
