My heart is beating so hard, it’s making my chest hurt and I’m struggling to take a full breath. Maybe coming out onto the balcony wasn’t such a good idea, because looking out over the city is starting to make me a little dizzy…
The sliding glass door to the balcony suddenly slides open and Jayce steps out. His expression is calm, but his gaze is penetrating as ever. Without a word, he walks toward me and grabs my hand, pulling it away from my mouth where I had been biting on my nails without notice.
“What…?”
Before I can finish, he turns and leads me back inside, and then down the hall. I know immediately where he’s taking me, so I release a relieved sigh and follow him, knowing this is exactly what I need.
When we reach the playroom, we cross to the bed and he turns to face me.
“Undress,” he orders softly.
The low rumble of his voice washes over me, acting like a balm on my nerves. Releasing a long breath, I slowly pull my t-shirt off and let it drop to the floor. Jayce watches me with an intense focus as I strip out of my leggings. When I’m dressed only in my bra and panties, I hold his gaze as I remove each remaining piece of clothing.
We’ve been here many times before, but it’s only now that I realize how comfortable I am standing completely naked in front of him like this. I don’t feel any embarrassment or bashfulness. Instead, I feel safe. Comfortable. At ease in my own skin, and I know that’s because it’s Jayce I’m with, and no one else.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, dragging his eyes over me. “Kneel on the bed, hands on your thighs, and wait for me.”
I quickly obey, climbing into the middle of the bed and positioning myself as instructed. Breathing steadily, I watch him move to the hidden cabinet, and once it’s open, he carefully chooses several lengths of rope. The sight of his hands caressing the rope as he selects it has my heart hammering and my blood heating.
Turning to me, he prowls closer to the bed. He reaches out to me, running the rope against my arms, making me shiver. It’s soft and smooth, but strong and grips my skin just enough that I don’t have to worry about it slipping or the knots coming undone. My chest is tight, my thoughts scattered, but I’m locked into him right now and every move he makes.
“Look at me.”
I meet his eyes, and the chaos in my head starts to grow quiet.
“What’s your safeword?”
“Pirouette,” I answer.
“Good girl. As I’m tying you up, I want you to focus on your breathing,” he explains. “Nothing else but taking air in and out. Understand.”
I nod. “Yes, Sir.”
He starts at my wrists, wrapping the rope flat and smooth, never twisting, never pulling too tight. He checks the space with his fingers and presses lightly against my pulse.
“Still good?” he asks.
“Yes,” I breathe.
He forms the first knot slowly, deliberately. A clean wrap, then a square knot that sits snug and secure without biting. The pressure is even, and deliciously grounding. My shoulders ease a fraction.
“Eyes on me,” he murmurs.
I lift my gaze to him. I hadn’t even realized I’d looked down to watch him work.
He works down my arms next. He moves the rope around my forearms, and back toward my elbows, creating a gentle tension. The next knot is a decorative but functional diamond that locks the lines in place.
“Breathe with me. In.”
I inhale as he tightens the rope.
“Out.”
The next knot sits between my shoulder blades, anchoring everything together. He uses his fingers to guide the rope into position before tightening. He never yanks or startles me. Each slight adjustment registers in my body, pulling me further out of my panic spiral and back into reality.
My pulse slows. Next, he ties a lark’s head around the central line, then finishes it with another square knot, pressing his thumb against it to make sure it won’t slip.
“Good,” he nods, clearly pleased with his work.
