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The bag taunted her. All glossy and black, with blood red letters embossed in an elegant script proclaiming the store name. It was a simple bag, really. A standard rectangle with rope handles in the style used by most clothing stores. Yet Kendra Morgan couldn't stop staring at it. She moved to the right, edging around the end of her bed as if a different angle would change the effect. The shift in position caused the overhead light to glare against the shiny coating blurring the lettering, but the name was already imprinted in her mind. If she was honest, and she was trying to be that now, it wasn't the bag itself that mocked her. No, it was the items inside that beckoned her in a silent whisper of repressed longing. Kendra hugged herself as she struggled against her continuous inner battle. The one that waged between the desire to wear the garments and the repulsion that came with the thought of putting them on. But there was no denying the residual excitement building within her at the thought of the night to come. Of once again being in that environment surrounded by the sounds, smells and sights of forbidden acts and deviant desires played out. Despite all reason and arguments against it, her body still responded. Her nipples ached for the pinch of a clamp and even now tingled with longing. It was a hunger that burned in her core and begged for release. Kendra inhaled, squeezing her eyes tight against the visions that dropped into her mind. Spinning away from the damning bag and its seductive contents, she strode into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Letting the water warm, she dug through the drawers in the walk-in closet, hunting for the accessories she wanted. Tonight was an opportunity to prove once and for all that she didn't want that--couldn't want that in her life. Returning to a BDSM club was another step in her own contrived rehabilitation program. She hoped it was the right one. The thought of living with her unfulfilled desires for the rest of her life was too discouraging to contemplate. When she'd fled Eric eight months ago, she'd left with two bags, a prayer and a conviction that she'd never go back. It was all she'd dared to take. In truth, it was all she'd wanted. There'd been nothing in Eric's penthouse that had meant anything to her. He'd stripped everything of importance from her long before then. Finding the box at the bottom of the last drawer, Kendra pulled it out and took it to the bathroom. The simple white cardboard was a standard discount jewelry box, nothing special to denote the significance of the contents. Setting it on the counter, she turned away, clenching her shaking hands in frustration. She could do this. She needed to do this. She left the room, her determination firmly in place, to make a quick check through her rented condo. First the sliding glass door at the back, showcasing the serene picture of the courtyard filled with clean, white snow in the waning light of early evening. The frosted chill reached in through the glass to brush over her cheeks and toes. She gave a tug on the handle before letting the curtain drop back and moved to the large picture window in the living room, then on to the kitchen. The front door was last. All were still locked, just like they'd been an hour ago. The ball of tension in her stomach eased a touch at the confirmation, the reassurance that she was still safe. The ritualistic routine had decreased in frequency since she'd moved in, but she couldn't let it go. Not yet. Excerpted from Bonds of Need by Lynda Aicher All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.