My pulse beats in my ears, and for a moment, I hesitate. Not because I don’t want to—I do, desperately—but because this feels like stepping off a cliff into something I might not survive.
“Yes,” I reply, my voice barely audible. “Yes, sir.”
The hunger in his eyes sends a jolt of heat through me, and I’m already lost. But as his hands roam my body and his lips claim mine again, I really don’t care. Tonight, I belong to him. And nothing else matters even if it destroys me.
14
RAY
The house is quiet now, and the only sounds coming from the fire are crackling faintly downstairs. She pauses at the base of the stairs, her fingers brushing the fireplace screen as if to reassure herself it’s secure. Only then does she follow, her steps soft and deliberate as I lead her up ahead. My fingers grip the railing, smooth wood cool beneath my touch, but my focus is on her—the weight of her presence, the soft sound of her breathing as she follows me.
When we reach the landing, I glance back. Her green eyes meet mine, glowing faintly in the dim light from the chandelier overhead. There’s hesitation there, mingled with trust, and it makes something in my chest tighten. I gesture toward my bedroom, the door slightly ajar at the end of the hallway.
“This way,” I murmur, my voice low, almost a growl.
The room is bathed in moonlight, its clean, modern lines softened by the silvery glow spilling through the large window. The bed dominates the space, its dark wood frame grounded by an intricately patterned rug. I close the door behind us, the soft click echoing in the stillness. She lingers near the edge of the bed, her fingers brushing the soft fabric of the burnt-orange throw draped across the comforter.
“Take your clothes off,” I say, my voice steady, though the coil of heat low in my gut tightens like a vice.
Sophia’s eyes meet mine, wide but not startled. There’s a flicker of hesitation, the kind I’ve come to recognize. She lifts her hands to the hem of her cardigan but pauses, fingers curling into the fabric. Her gaze drops, and she bites her lower lip—a small, telling motion that sends a jolt straight through me.
I step closer, lowering my voice. “Sophia.” Her name is a command, but my tone softens, threading through the tension between us. “What’s wrong?”
Even though I sense her hesitation stems from being self-conscious, I want her to say it. To own it. To hear herself and realize how little it matters.
She resists, shaking her head and letting her hand fall away. “Nothing,” she whispers, but the crack in her voice betrays her.
I don’t let the silence linger. In two quick strides, I invade her personal space, tipping her chin up gently with two fingers under it. Her green eyes glisten as they lock on mine. “Don’t hide from me, Sophia. Not now, not ever.”
She closes her eyes for a moment, drawing a breath like she’s steadying herself. When they flutter open again, her vulnerability is raw, unguarded. “It’s just... hard,” she finally admits, her voice soft. “Knowing what you’ll see.”
My chest tightens. “I know exactly what you mean, but you needed to hear yourself saying.” I hold her stare for a second, lifting an eyebrow.
Her brows pull together in confusion. “Why?”
I cup her cheeks, brushing my thumbs over her skin before pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. I lean my forehead against hers. “Because you should never be afraid of how I’ll see you.” As I speak, I guide her hand down between us, letting her feel the throbbing bulge in my pants, the evidence of my desire. Her breath catches. “You think you’re scarred, broken—but all I see is the woman who sets me on fire. The one I can’t resist. But you’re still haunted by the scars that motherfucker left.” I squeeze her fingers around my hard cock. This? It’s all you. All the woman you are.”
I step back slightly, holding the edges of her cardigan and easing it off her shoulders, revealing the truth she carries on her skin. The smooth, polished lines of her prosthetic gleam in the moonlight, a testament to her strength and survival. The scars beneath it stretch like battle lines, mapping her pain and resilience.
I let my fingers trail gently down her arm, not missing the slight hitch in her breath. My hands slide back up to cradle her face. “Sophia,” I whisper, my voice rough with the emotions I don’t want to hide from her anymore. “You are a goddamn warrior. You’ve faced hell and walked through it. Don’t you dare think for one second you have to hide from me.”
Her lips tremble as they part, but no words come. She doesn’t have to speak. Her body says everything, leaning into mine, seeking warmth and reassurance. I press a kiss to her forehead, then her cheek, letting my lips linger near hers. “You’re the strongest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever known,” I murmur, my words low and hot against her skin.
A ghost of a smile touches her lips, tentative. “You really think so?”
“I know so.” I step back just enough to hold her gaze, letting her see the truth in mine. A slow grin pulls at my mouth. “Now, strip.”
Her laugh is soft and shaky. The sound warms me as she obeys, peeling away the rest of her clothes with deliberate slowness. When she stands bare before me, I take a moment to drink her in, memorizing every curve.
She’s perfect. Every scar, every inch of her. Perfect. And tonight, she’s mine.
“Stay there,” I say, my voice rough with need. I step to the dresser, rummage through the top drawer, and pull out a silk tie.
When I turn back, her green eyes darken with anticipation. “What are you doing?”
I smirk, holding up the tie. “Improvising.”
The silk binds her wrists. It’s smooth against her skin as I tie it carefully, ensuring it’s secure but not too tight. I guide her to the bed, the mattress dipping slightly as I lay her down. Her hair fans out against the pillows, a fiery halo that contrasts beautifully with the cool tones of the room. I secure the other end of the makeshift restraint with a knot in a hole in the headboard.
