Love and Mistletoe by Zara Keane

handcuffs, not the fakes you buy in sex shops.”
    “I’m sure we could decorate these with fluffy pink material.”
    “I’ll pass, thanks,” he said dryly. “I don’t fancy clapping pink fluffy handcuffs on the likes of John-Joe Fitzgerald the next time I arrest him.”
    “Come here,” she murmured, reaching for him. He obeyed, kissing her, stroking her breasts, belly, thighs, and between her legs, driving her to distraction. “I want you inside me.”
    In one fluid movement, he caught her wrists above her head and handcuffed her.
    The hard restraints chafed against her skin, but the feeling was a turn-on, especially with Brian watching her with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “You won’t be going anywhere fast, Ms. MacCarthy.”
    “Hey,” she protested, laughing. “I was going to handcuff
you
.”
    “I know. You can save that for Round Two.” He flashed her a smile tinged with naughtiness and raw sexual desire. Then he ripped open a condom foil and rolled it over his shaft. “For the moment,” he murmured against her neck, “you’re my prisoner.”
    “Well, you were always trying to lock me up, weren’t you?” She gasped when she felt the tip of his shaft tease her entrance. “Looks. Like. You. Succeeded.”
    “Looks. Like.” The soft aroma of his shampoo teased her senses as he buried his head into her neck.
    She helped him find her entrance, arranging the position of her hips to accommodate him. He was bigger than she’d expected. The first thrust was a shock, but her body soon adjusted to his size.
    “You’re fabulous,” he whispered into her ear as he moved inside her. “Absolutely perfect.”
    She looped her handcuffed arms around his neck and tried to answer, but the only sound she emitted was a moan of pleasure. The pressure in her groin built with each thrust, further enhanced by his hand tugging on her nipple.
    She pulled him closer, moving her hips to allow him deeper penetration. Lost to sensation, she let the feelings build until they came in a simultaneous explosion of ecstasy. When she cried out, he swallowed her scream with a kiss.
    Afterward they lay on the sofa, panting. He took her hand and squeezed it. “That was even better than my most X-rated fantasies. You are an amazing woman, Sharon MacCarthy.”
    “I’m also a
restrained
woman.” She jangled the handcuffs.
    “Oh, yeah,” he said with a laugh. “I’d forgotten about those.”
    Leaping off the sofa, he grabbed the key from the coffee table. He gently held her wrists as he unlocked her. This was the moment she’d been waiting for. As soon as the handcuffs slackened around her wrists, she removed them and clamped one of them around Brian’s left hand, lightning fast, and the other to the radiator beside the sofa. “Hey,” he protested. “Careful of the key.”
    A clinking sound of metal falling against metal rang from behind the radiator. Sharon’s eyes flew to his, and saw her frozen shock reflected. “Oh, feck.”

Chapter Seven
    BRIAN REGARDED HIS WRIST WITH HORROR, then turned his attention to Sharon. She was naked, beautiful, and sexy as hell. And if he weren’t facing the prospect of ending his days chained to his living room radiator, he’d want to make love to her all over again. “The key was in the lock. Please don’t tell me it fell behind the radiator.”
    “Maybe it hit the floor.” She got to her knees and scrambled round the carpet, affording him an excellent view of her shapely arse.
    “No luck?”
    “No,” she moaned and shoved a lock of wild hair out of her face. The sparkly eye shadow he’d admired earlier was now gloriously smudged. She looked fucked and fuckable. He was getting hard just looking at her.
    “Did you hear that clang of metal when I handcuffed you?” she asked. “Like something falling behind the radiator?”
    “I did, but I really didn’t want to believe it. If the key’s behind there”—he jerked his thumb at the wall-mounted radiator—“we’ll have a