Catherine woke up from a dream she couldn't remember. Her body was sore and tired, but she felt light as a feather, even though Andrew's arm was draped across her torso. The ropes he'd used to tie her up were loose and strewn across the bed, but their marks were still stamped on her skin, those pretty patterns from a night that Cathy would be slow to forget. From very early in her adult life, Cathy prided herself on being a woman capable of embracing her desires, who sought pleasure and fun with whatever men and women she wanted. But no amount of s****l experience could have prepared her for that night, no man or woman could have prepared her for Andrew Lowe. What he did to her was more than s*x; it was art, such a powerful work crafted by his hands and body where she was inspiration, refe
