“And I’m done letting y’all stay in that apartment. Done watching you struggle when I got more than enough to share. From now on, this is your home too. Both of you.”
The guilt was crushing. Suffocating. He was offering me everything—his home, his heart, his protection—and I was keeping the biggest secret of my life from him.
I should tell him. Right now. Before this went any further.
But when I opened my mouth, different words came out.
“I love you too.”
Because I did. God help me, I loved him so much it terrified me.
And I was too much of a coward to risk losing him.
He held my gaze for a long moment. The air between us shifted. Charged. That playful energy from earlier dissolving into something deeper. Something heavier.
He set his wine glass down deliberately. Walked around the counter to where I sat. His hand came up to cup my face, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. Before I knew it, he kissed me deeply. Our tongues melded together, searching for each other’s secrets. His strong hands gripped me by the hips, picked me up and carried me to the bedroom.
The master suite took up the entire second floor, separated from the rest of the penthouse—from Yusef’s room—by a full flight of stairs. A California king bed with black sheets dominated the space. More floor-to-ceiling windows. A bathroom I caught a glimpse of that looked like a spa.
But I didn’t care about any of that.
I only cared about his hands. His mouth. The way he looked at me like I was the only woman in the world.
He set me on the edge of the bed and stepped back. Started unbuttoning his shirt slowly. Deliberately.
“Take off your clothes.”
Not a request. A command.
I obeyed. Pulling my shirt over my head. Unclasping my bra. Sliding out of my jeans and panties until I was completely bare before him.
He stood there, shirt open, chest exposed, eyes traveling over every inch of me.
“Lay back.”
I did.
He finished undressing, revealing that body I’d memorized by now—all hard muscle and smooth caramel skin. He was already hard, thick and heavy between his legs.
But he didn’t come to me. Not yet.
Instead, he went to his dresser. Opened a drawer. Pulled out something I couldn’t see.
When he turned around, he was holding a silk tie.
“You trust me?”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “Yes.”
“If you need me to stop at any point, say ‘red,’ understand?”
“I understand.”
“Good girl.” He crossed to the bed. “Put your hands above your head.”
I raised my arms, crossing my wrists against the headboard. He climbed onto the bed, straddling me, and wrapped the silk tie around my wrists. Pulled it tight enough to hold but not enough to hurt. Secured it to one of the slats in the headboard.
I was bound. Helpless. Completely at his mercy.
