And if she was honest with herself, she wanted to know what Logan did to earn him a bondage bunny fan club.

Rachel eased her knee off his dick and lowered her leg to the floor. “Fine. I’ll try it. For the story. Will you talk me through it? Explain what you’re doing?”

He blinked a few times as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. “Will I be explaining it to Rachel the woman or Rachel the reporter?”

How could she answer when she didn’t know herself? She took a step back, needing some distance from him in order to maintain a clear head. “Does it matter?”

He smiled as if he knew what she was doing. “I thought you were braver than that, Tiger.”

Logan may have left the US Army, but it had left its mark on him. He stood like a soldier at attention, his spine tall and his shoulders rigid. In the heat of the moment during one of their many banters, she’d lobbed the nickname “Soldier Boy” at him, to which he’d thrown back the nickname “Tiger” at her.

“Why do you call me Tiger?” she asked.

His tongue swiped across his lower lip, leaving it glistening. “Tigers are cunning, ferocious . . . with cutting claws and a razor-sharp bite. They go after what they want.” Taking away the precious space she so desperately required to stay in control, he inched closer.

That’s how he saw her? As a dangerous predator?

She moved to push him away, but he trapped her wrists in his hands.

His gaze burned into her. “But they’re also sleek and stunning creatures who are fighting to survive just like all the other animals in the wild jungle.”

Although she was dressed, she felt completely exposed, as if he could see straight into the heart of her. And that terrified her. If he could scratch underneath her surface with such ease, what would happen if she ever let her guard down with him? Was her desire to feel his ropes on her worth the risk?

Yes. After all, she was apparently a tiger, and tigers were brave.

She puffed out a breath before admitting the truth as to which Rachel he’d bind tonight. “Both. I’m doing this mostly for the story, but I’m doing it for me as well.”

A slight smile played at the corners of his lips. He picked the rope off the table and grabbed his duffle then, taking her by the elbow, brought her over to part of the dungeon that wasn’t being used.

Her gaze fell onto the wooden spanking bench. She hoped he wasn’t thinking of putting her over that thing.

He squeezed the crook of her arm lightly. “We’re not going to do anything other than bondage. I just chose this area because it was empty. Sadomasochism and discipline aren’t my kinks. I tie women up and give them so much pleasure, they think they’ll die from it.”

The idea was hot, but she knew he was full of shit. Yeah, an orgasm was nice, but it was a minute of pleasurable tension followed by a few seconds of pulsing. Nothing to write home about. She smoothed her fingers over the rope, surprised by its softness. “And what about your pleasure? Do you fuck the women when they’re tied up?”

“Occasionally, but it’s not about the sex. My pleasure comes from the power of having her at my mercy and from holding her trust in my hands.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if merely holding her trust in his hands gave him an orgasm, but when he began sliding the rope over his hands, she became distracted.

“Any health concerns I should know about? Circulation problems? Any issue with claustrophobia or anxiety?”

“No physical or mental health issues,” she said, wondering if he was this invasive with all the women he played with. And according to her friend Gracie, Cole’s former slave, he played with a lot.

He folded the rope into two pieces. “This is hemp rope. I’m going to do a basic breast bondage.” He came up behind her and gripped her shoulders tightly. “I want you to get a sense of what it feels like.”

His hands skated down to her upper back and then circled her torso, sliding around her rib cage, just under her breasts. She held her breath, the view of his large, capable hands on her body stirring up those darned butterflies in her belly again. Realizing if he moved his thumbs just a bit he could flick her nipples, a shot of arousal coursed through her, sending her pulse soaring.

His cheek whispered across her own as he leaned over her shoulder. “You okay? Your heart is racing.”

“Yeah,” she said, remembering to breathe. “My heart’s always fast.”

She felt his lips tug up in a smile against her cheek, but he didn’t call her out on her lie. He also didn’t touch her nipples, but instead returned to her back as he pulled the rope toward her spine. Then, before she could recover, his hands were above her breasts and she sucked in a breath, her nipples stiffening almost painfully.

This wasn’t happening. She couldn’t be attracted to Logan Bradford. The ex-soldier now defense attorney was the opposite of what she needed in a man. It didn’t matter that he was sexy with a body that she’d like to strip and lick from head to toe. He was also arrogant, condescending, and too damn dominant. So why was she suddenly slick between her legs?

His motions stopped and she heard him take in his own ragged breath. “Do you want more?”

Her breasts felt swollen and heavy, more sensitive, the lace of her bra almost abrasive to them and her tingling nipples. She could barely manage to get her mouth working in order to answer. “Yes,” she choked out, her voice sounding raspy.

Why was her body responding this way? Was it because of the rope? Would she become aroused if anyone tied her up like this?

He picked up his duffle and, with his hand splayed along her lower back, directed her toward a different part of the dungeon. Until a few minutes ago, she’d been an observer, eliciting little attention from the members, but with the ropes adorning her breasts and Logan making a silent claim over her with his hand on her, she drew plenty of interest. While some of the members looked upon her with lustful appreciation, she didn’t miss the spark of jealousy in the eyes of a couple of bleach blondes whom she’d wager were part of the unofficial Logan Bradford fan club.

As a reporter, she was used to having people watch her, but the television separated her from the audience. In here, she couldn’t avoid their reactions, and judging by the dampness of her panties, she liked it. What did that say about her? Did she have a kinky side?

Logan stopped her in front of a mirrored wall and turned her to it. He stood behind her, the heat of his body warming her back. “Look at yourself. You’re beautiful.”

In all the times she’d stared in the mirror, she’d never seen herself like this. Her skin was flushed, pink staining her cheeks, and the pupils of her brown eyes were dilated. The long strands of her dark hair draped over the rope, framing the sides of her breasts, which strained against her red blouse. Because the ropes lifted them better than any bra she’d ever worn, her jutting nipples pointed high and tight.

“Keep looking at yourself in the mirror. Watch while I bind your legs,” Logan said, his eyes catching hers in the mirror. He grabbed more rope from his bag and then kneeled in front of her, his head level with her breasts.

Heat surged through her. If her hands had been free, she might have given in to the urge to lay them on his chiseled cheeks or run her fingers through his short brown hair.

A burst of panic caused Rachel’s heart to race. She wouldn’t become another member of his bondage bunny fan club. Allowing him to tie her up may answer her deep-seated curiosity about bondage, but it didn’t mean anything more. It couldn’t mean anything more. She wouldn’t let it.

A look of concentration befell him, his brows pulled down and his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. He folded the rope in half and looped it around her waist then peered up at her. “I need you to sit for the next part.”