The look he gave me was enough to bring me to my knees had I not already been laying beneath him. Heat and hunger and something that looked dangerously like devotion.
“Violet, I do not think that is wise.” But the desire burning in his eyes contradicted his words, uncoiling a part of me I’d thought had died with my previous body.
“I trust you.” The confession tumbled out in a rushed frenzy, desperate and honest. “I want you to. Ineedyou, Rowan.”
His gaze traveled down my body slowly, deliberately, leaving my mouth dry and my pulse thundering. My nipples peaked beneath his gaze, and I watched his tongue dart out to wet his lips.
He wanted me. The evidence was written across every line of his body, every labored breath, every minute tremor in his hands.
I can’t get enough of that look.
“Please.” I begged, past pride or shame. “I’ll be good. I’ll listen to every command.”
His breath shuddered out of him, and he closed his eyes like he was in pain. “Fuck, Violet. If we do this, you really cannot act up. You will need to trust me completely.”
I slid my hands along his torso, torturously slow, mapping every ridge of muscle and plane of skin until my hands wrapped around the back of his head. His hair was silk between my fingers, finer than it looked.
“Violet—” he started, the warning lacing his tone.
I gripped his hair and brought his head down to mine. Steel eyes widened in surprise as I bit at his lower lip, tugging it between my teeth.
“I want you to tie me up and fuck me stupid, Rowan.” I held his gaze, letting him see every ounce of desire and trust and need burning through me. “You’ll do this for me, won’t you?”
He released a breathless, “Yes.”
I smiled against his mouth. “Good.”
I kissed him then, and he met my fire with ice—a slow, deliberate dance of tongues as he tamed my wildfire with patient, methodical strokes. Taking control. Claiming dominance. Showing me exactly who would be leading this dance.
Yes. Finally.
“Take off your clothes,” he commanded against my lips.
I obliged immediately, sitting up to peel off his shirt I’d been wearing. He stepped away from the bed, and something in the corner caught my eye—my bag.
A devious smirk played across my face as an idea formed.
When Rowan returned—gloriously, magnificently naked, his cock already hardening again despite having just come—he stopped mid-stride.
I was nude as he’d commanded, yes. But I’d also pulled out my spare black stockings from my bag and wore them for him, the mid torso tights hugging my legs. I’d positioned myself in the center of the bed, legs spread wide in shameless invitation.
“I thought I said to get naked.” His voice had gone rough, his eyes locked on where the stockings ended near my navel and bare skin began.
“I thought you might enjoy these.” I traced one hand down my body slowly, over my breast, across my stomach, stopping just before reaching where I knew he was desperate to stare.
He took a deep breath, his chest expanding. He closed his eyes and nodded, looking like a man struggling for control. “Very much so. Do you mind if they tear?”
He watched me stretch my other arm over my head, my back arched and breasts lifted, as my hand continued its path past my navel. I shook my head, watching his breath quicken, as I lowered my hand to tease myself with my fingers. “Not at all.”
“Fuck, Violet.” He crossed to me in two strides, the cerulean rope dangling from one hand. His cock twitched, thick and flushed and already leaking again.
I felt gloriously unhinged, knowing I was breaking him down piece by piece.
“Do you like what you see, Rowan?”
“Yes.” The word came out grated, forced through clenched teeth. His eyes trailed down my body in a touch that felt physical, hot andpossessive. He dropped to his knees beside the bed, rope coiling at his feet. “Can I?”
I widened my legs further, knowing exactly what he was asking. “Touch me, Rowan. I’m yours.”
