It wasn’t the knee-high black leather boots or the skintight leather hotpants that grabbed his attention, but the padlocked slave collar she was wearing around her neck. As she stepped out of the stolen vehicle he’d been chasing, Officer Colin O’Neil was thunderstruck by the alluring redhead in the provocative attire.

Upon further investigation, it soon became clear that despite appearances, Lara Miller was not some crazy car thief dressed like a bondage slave from a porn movie. She was, in fact, the victim in some underhanded maneuvering by her vindictive ex. Now it was up to Colin to help her out of this mess. But the electric attraction that blazed between them soon culminated in a night of explosive passion that would change Colin’s life forever.

Here is the tantalizing conclusion to Saskia Walker’s sizzling erotic series, Loving on the Edge, about the hard-working, hard-loving O’Neil brothers.

There was an appealing mystery about him. Lara sensed he had secrets, and regrets. But his strength was no secret. He looked as if nothing would ruffle him, and yet she knew that if she stepped out of line he’d snap into action, the way he had back there at the car, when he’d got a hold of her and pulled her together, when she’d been upset. It was the fact he contained his strength so well that she admired. Ultimate control — how could she not admire that?

“I’m going to have to keep you here in one of the cells, until I get this cleared up. If the named owner of the vehicle presses charges, I’ll arrange for you to have legal advice, or you can contact your own lawyer.”

“Thank you.”

He ended the interview, switched the recording device off and stood up, gesturing for her to do the same.

His hand touched her back briefly as he led her to the door. It made her skin sizzle and the pit of her stomach fluttered eagerly. Her footsteps faltered. She longed for his hand at her back more firmly.

As she followed him down the corridor and into a cell, she admired his physique. His posture was perfect but understated, his large, fit body something he wore easily. He could carry her. She liked to be cared for and held, especially when she was bound and powerless. It wasn’t often she met a man who’s intrinsic power outshone their ego, but his did. What fascinated her, sexually, was the kind of domination that commanded respect, and earned out the same way. She liked reward systems, and she was willing to bet he did, too.

She barely noticed the sparse furnishings as she entered the cell, her attention was with the man who was now at her back, the man whose presence compelled her to take notice of him, even though her mind was in a mess, and her life was even more so. He stood by the door, arms folded across his chest as he observed her.

If they were at play, and this cell was their private space to indulge their fantasies, she would drop to the floor, then roll forward onto her knees and crawl across the floor. She’d keep her eyes lowered until she reached him, when she would look up at him for his approval. Then, if he nodded at her or spoke, she would rub her face against his legs until he reached down and touched her. The idea of it made her hot.

“I need to make some calls,” he said, “see if I can sort this out.”

“Thank you.” Her fingers instinctively went to her collar.

He stared at it. His eyes were narrowed and his jaw went rigid. “That’s bothering you, isn’t it?”

Relief, she felt relief. “Yes. I don’t have the key. Jeremy does.”

He nodded, and she could tell his breathing pattern altered. It was barely perceptible, but she sensed it. She also sensed restraint in him.

“I can take it off. If you want me to.”

“Yes, please, if you’re able to.” She'd tried earlier that day, scrabbling around in a service station attacking it with hairpins and anything else she could find, with no luck. It was a constant reminder, and it mocked her for trying to leave Jeremy, even now.

The policeman shut the cell door over, and closed on her. “Lift your chin, look at me.”

His command made her breath catch in her throat. Arousal pulled heavily inside her, heating her body through from the very center out, making her skin sizzle and her fingertips twitch. Lifting her eyelids, she looked at him.

He held her gaze, not allowing her to look away.

Tension filled the air, clinging around them like static. She found it hard to breathe. Oh, the scrutiny, and how he was reading her. She felt it, and it set loose a wild fluttering at her center. He could tell she was aroused; the recognition was there in his eyes.

He put one finger under her chin and lifted it, then examined the padlock. In that one touch he conveyed his authority.

It made her wet.

Reaching into his pocket, he brought out something that looked like a Swiss army knife, and flicked it open. She heard a scratching sound as he worked at it, and then the padlock was in his hand and the collar was loose.

He lifted it from around her neck and then, for the first time since she had met him, he smiled at her. His eyes twinkled darkly, and she saw desire there. It was blatant, raw, and incredibly powerful. He wanted her, and he was glad to have the other man’s collar off her.

That made her feel weak, it also confirmed what she’d sensed in him. He respected the collar, but once it was gone…

“Better?” he asked, and his voice was low. Hoarse, almost.

She nodded, gratefully, and returned his smile, her heart racing.

Then he moved closer still, so close she could feel his breath on her face, and he ran the back of his knuckles down the front of her throat, stroking her skin as if he were admiring her.

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