Dare to Surrender Read Online Free PDF Page B

of giving her boring hazel eyes some life.
    On her feet were her usual flats. It was either this or tennis shoes. Unlike most girls, Joy didn’t have a shoe fetish, and
     her closet displayed this by its dismal selection. Every time Joy entered a shoe store, she tended to get over-whelmed by
     the choices and always left empty-handed.
    Now she wished she had worn some sexier shoes. Heart thumping, she waited for him to answer the door.
    What if he knew about the sculpture? What if he was angry?
    What if he tried to kiss her again?
    What if he wanted to tie her up? The idea had been at the back of her mind ever since last night, and she knew that she could
     be persuaded.
    Easily persuaded.
    No, no, no. You stole from him; you can’t have sex with him!
    The door opened, and he was there, grinning at her, those little lines around his eyes crinkling again. He wore jeans, a T-shirt,
     and boots. For one second, she forgot why she’d been scared to come here.
    “Joy. Come on in.”
    “Thanks.” She dipped her head and crossed inside, taking a moment to feel the warmth of his body as she passed. Why did she
     always seem to heat up whenever she was anywhere near his vicinity?
    Stepping inside, she took in the spacious flat. The style reminded her of her oldest brother’s modernist decor. The old building
     space had obviously been remodeled, and the style was eclectic mid-century, most of it open space. Huge windows took up an
     entire length of the far wall, and Joy gasped aloud when her gaze landed on the beautiful view of the San Francisco skyline.
    The kitchen was to the right, with modern concrete countertops and stainless-steel appliances. It seemed to shine, as if it
     was rarely used. In fact, the entire place was spotless and orderly, from the carefully arranged bookshelves that spanned
     the wall next to the glass dining table to the uncluttered desk under a spiral staircase; Ash Hunter was obviously a neat
     freak.
    Strange. You wouldn’t guess from his appearance.
    Pulling her bag off her shoulder, she went to the low, brown sofa, above which hung a huge black-and-white photograph of a
     naked woman, bound in rope from ankle to shoulder, suspended, hanging horizontally in midair. Mesmerized, Joy dropped her
     purse onto the couch and then shrugged off her coat and dumped it onto the cushions, all the while staring at the photograph.
     She couldn’t see the woman’s face, which was hidden by her long dark hair that hung nearly to the floor, but she could see
     the curve of her breasts, her nipples, and her ass. Joy’s pulse ratcheted up another notch. What was it about Ash’s art that
     made her so aroused?
    “You like that?” He picked up her purse and coat and hung them on a coatrack.
    She nodded. “Very much. It’s a shame you don’t want to take photographs anymore. I can’t believe you’re just giving up.”
And maybe I can persuade you to change your mind.
    “Yeah.” But she heard something in his tone of voice, as if he was unsure, and the way he was staring at her made her think
     she’d give up her collection of silk scarves to know what he was thinking at that moment.
    “Is your studio here?” she asked.
    He jerked his head to the left, and she followed his gesture to a large alcove. His photography studio, obviously. There was
     an old-fashioned camera on a tripod
     and several umbrella lights scattered around the floor. Joy took a step toward the staging area, where a large piece of black
     fabric hung opposite the camera. Then she turned and gasped.
    Right. The rope bondage—that was what was making her heart race, what was perpetuating that erotic nuance that was hanging
     heavy in the air. And it wasn’t like she could ignore it; the rope was directly in her vision now, multicolored nylon looped
     around pegs, dotting the entire opposite wall, forming colorful circles from floor to ceiling.
    She found herself moving toward the wall, much as she’d done with the painting last