Chapter One
His naked body moved smoothly through the water, stroke after powerful stroke propelling him to the end of the pool. The pale azure water did nothing to disguise the livid lines that tracked his spine or the dark purple bruises on his upper arms. Even without the evidence of a recent battle, his size alone would have marked him as a dangerous man.
Which was probably why he had the pool to himself, despite the perfect autumn morning.
He kicked harder, increasing speed. His blond head broke the surface to draw breath and she caught a glimpse of the ruthless focus on his face as he began yet another length. She had lost count after thirty, but wouldn’t have been surprised it if was close to a hundred by now. Despite the warmth of the luxurious bedroom in the French chateau, Sinead O’Sullivan shivered.
She was playing with fire.
How could she have thought that she could pull this off? Gate-crashing an exclusive BDSM party in Paris had been nerve-wracking enough. But it wasn’t half as terrifying as trying to pass herself off as her twin, a professional Dominatrix. Yep, she was about as Domme as a plate of jelly. She might be able to boss people around in work, but when it came to the bedroom she was a kitten rather than a tigress.
A movement at the edge of the pool caught her eye. Niall surfaced for the final time and hauled himself out of the water. Uncaring that he was naked he moved to the shower stand and turned the water on.
She sighed. No matter how many times she saw him like this, she would never tire of watching his solid muscular perfection. Don’t even think about falling for him. Just find your sister, persuade her to return what she stole from the museum and get your life back.
But a girl could look, couldn’t she?
And it was hard not to stare as Niall tossed his head back and rinsed the shampoo from his long fair hair. Rivulets of water ran over his knife-edge cheekbones and strong jaw line. Viking. The word had popped into her head the first time she saw him. And she had found it impossible to stop thinking about him ever since.
This was the man who had shared her bed the previous night, the one who had driven her to ecstasy with his big hands and talented mouth. This was the man who would to pretend to be her submissive for the next forty-eight hours – in public. When they were alone, all bets were off.
Being accused of stealing one of the most fabulous jewels on the planet was nothing, compared to dealing with an undercover investigator like Niall Moore.
Memories of the previous night clouded her mind. His touch, his scent, and the way he made her… She sighed. Stop this right now. You have a job to do and so does he.
And that was the problem. Niall was employed to make sure that she turned up for her court appearances and didn’t break her bail conditions. When this was over he would walk away from her without a thought.
Niall switched off the water and dried himself before slinging a fresh towel around his hips. He looked up at her window and his eyes narrowed. She dropped the light voile panel back into place, but it was too late. He had spotted her watching him.
Sinead raced to the bathroom. She couldn’t be naked when he arrived or they would never leave the room. She was barely out of the shower when she heard the bedroom door opening. Sinead belted her bathrobe around her damp body. There would be no more playing until they found her sister.
She eyed the skimpy towel around his hips. ‘Please tell me you didn’t walk through the house wearing that?’ she said primly.
Niall grinned at her. “Weekend fetish party, remember? Most of the other guys are wearing less than this.”
He was right. It had been hard not to stare the previous evening when she had watched the other mistresses with their slaves. She wasn’t a prude. She had worked as a dancer to put herself through college, and had seen her fair share of nudity, both onstage
His naked body moved smoothly through the water, stroke after powerful stroke propelling him to the end of the pool. The pale azure water did nothing to disguise the livid lines that tracked his spine or the dark purple bruises on his upper arms. Even without the evidence of a recent battle, his size alone would have marked him as a dangerous man.
Which was probably why he had the pool to himself, despite the perfect autumn morning.
He kicked harder, increasing speed. His blond head broke the surface to draw breath and she caught a glimpse of the ruthless focus on his face as he began yet another length. She had lost count after thirty, but wouldn’t have been surprised it if was close to a hundred by now. Despite the warmth of the luxurious bedroom in the French chateau, Sinead O’Sullivan shivered.
She was playing with fire.
How could she have thought that she could pull this off? Gate-crashing an exclusive BDSM party in Paris had been nerve-wracking enough. But it wasn’t half as terrifying as trying to pass herself off as her twin, a professional Dominatrix. Yep, she was about as Domme as a plate of jelly. She might be able to boss people around in work, but when it came to the bedroom she was a kitten rather than a tigress.
A movement at the edge of the pool caught her eye. Niall surfaced for the final time and hauled himself out of the water. Uncaring that he was naked he moved to the shower stand and turned the water on.
She sighed. No matter how many times she saw him like this, she would never tire of watching his solid muscular perfection. Don’t even think about falling for him. Just find your sister, persuade her to return what she stole from the museum and get your life back.
But a girl could look, couldn’t she?
And it was hard not to stare as Niall tossed his head back and rinsed the shampoo from his long fair hair. Rivulets of water ran over his knife-edge cheekbones and strong jaw line. Viking. The word had popped into her head the first time she saw him. And she had found it impossible to stop thinking about him ever since.
This was the man who had shared her bed the previous night, the one who had driven her to ecstasy with his big hands and talented mouth. This was the man who would to pretend to be her submissive for the next forty-eight hours – in public. When they were alone, all bets were off.
Being accused of stealing one of the most fabulous jewels on the planet was nothing, compared to dealing with an undercover investigator like Niall Moore.
Memories of the previous night clouded her mind. His touch, his scent, and the way he made her… She sighed. Stop this right now. You have a job to do and so does he.
And that was the problem. Niall was employed to make sure that she turned up for her court appearances and didn’t break her bail conditions. When this was over he would walk away from her without a thought.
Niall switched off the water and dried himself before slinging a fresh towel around his hips. He looked up at her window and his eyes narrowed. She dropped the light voile panel back into place, but it was too late. He had spotted her watching him.
Sinead raced to the bathroom. She couldn’t be naked when he arrived or they would never leave the room. She was barely out of the shower when she heard the bedroom door opening. Sinead belted her bathrobe around her damp body. There would be no more playing until they found her sister.
She eyed the skimpy towel around his hips. ‘Please tell me you didn’t walk through the house wearing that?’ she said primly.
Niall grinned at her. “Weekend fetish party, remember? Most of the other guys are wearing less than this.”
He was right. It had been hard not to stare the previous evening when she had watched the other mistresses with their slaves. She wasn’t a prude. She had worked as a dancer to put herself through college, and had seen her fair share of nudity, both onstage
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