“What’s that?” She nodded toward the black items clutched in his hand.
Trent took one and lifted it on a finger.
A collar.
Heat simmered in her lower stomach, her skin growing hot. How could something both excite and frighten her?
He reached out, and Alison offered her wrists without thinking. Her hands were so small against his palms, and he set all the items on the small dresser before pulling just the cuffs out.
Alison waited for them to hurt. She imagined rough leather that would chafe, that would sit tight enough to scrape her raw.
Instead, something soft stroked her skin. Trent worked quickly, efficiently. After sizing them, he ran his finger between the cuff and her skin, the touch feeling far more intimate than it should have.
“Are they too tight?” Despite checking himself, he still asked.
Alison shook her head, the weight of the cuffs surprising. They weren’t that heavy, she’d guess. It was a mental thing, as though they seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, as if she could focus on nothing but the way they tugged at her.
They were padded and lined with a soft cotton, yet her entire world had shrunk to where they touched her.
“Breathe,” he told her.
Alison sucked in a breath at the command, cold air rushing into her lungs.Guess that’s why my chest hurts. Breathing is important.
He studied her quietly for a moment before moving on. “The collar now.”
How he could tell she was ready, that she’d regained her courage, she wasn’t sure. The press of the same fabric against her throat felt as shocking as if someone had choked her. It didn’t fasten tightly, didn’t impede her breathing at all, and yet the clicking of the metal buckle, the brush of his fingers—it all made it feel too real.
He performed the same check he had with the cuffs, slipping his finger between the collar and her neck, sliding it around to test how tight it was.
He touched the collar, his fingers sliding over the front. “You look nice in this.”
Her mouth had gone dry, as if she’d never drunk a drop in her entire life.
His lips curved into a half smile. “You’re supposed to say, ‘Thank you, sir.’”
The words tumbled from her lips, soft and unsure and yet she didn’t have to think about them at all. “Thank you, sir.”
The rush of wetness between her thighs surprised her more than it would have anyone else, she’d bet. Shefidgeted, pressing her thighs together to try to keep him from noticing.
He breathed in, and a darkness in his gaze told her he knew.
“If you have trouble sleeping in the cuffs or the collar, just come let one of us know. If they pinch or feel uncomfortable, we’ll fix them.” He slid his large hand to the side of her neck, the touch solid and showing just how much bigger he was than her.
She expected him to use that grip to pull her against him, to take her lips in a kiss she wassurewould melt her. Hell, she had no doubts that if he tried—even a little—he’d not only get a kiss but have her on her back in a heartbeat. Somehow, all those nerves, all the things she’d been nervous about, all transformed into pure lust.
Except he didn’t.
He dragged his thumb along her jawline before releasing her. “Goodnight.”
Alison didn’t get the chance to even respond before he left the room. Her gaze floated past the full-length mirror on the door, and something that dangled at the front of the collar caught her attention. She went closer, catching the silver—a heart-shaped padlock that hung from a loop—and twisted it to read the engraving.
Ali
It had been made for her, with her name. She clutched the heart between her fingers, the collar still warm from Trent’s grip.
The entire list of things she’d filled out ran through her head as she recalled Trent’s large hand against her neck, the way he’d checked the fit of each item, and she let out a broken moan at how badly she suddenly wanted to try out that list with him.
Which meant she was in trouble, and not just from the slavery ring.
