“You can’t touch me.”
“Sweetheart, you’re grossly overestimating how much I care about whether I can remember shagging.” Nathan’s fingers trace the curve of her hip through her clothes. “And I may have a solution.”
“I got pissed. Nicked ‘em off a cop.”
“Was that cop a male stripper?” Alisha picks up the handcuffs, black fluff soft under her fingers.
Nathan grins down at her. “Now that you mention it, maybe.”
“Never going to happen.”
“Oh, but it will. Don’t fight it.”
The cuffs slip into the pocket of her jumpsuit as she leaves the locker room.
Just in case.