My eyes burn again. "Why would you do this?"
"Because you deserve to know you have this power."
I walk around him, looking at his big body and the spindly chair. Tying him to that doesn’t feel like the smartest thing to do. He could crack it against the ground, or even use his own body strength maybe to pull against it and get to his feet.
“If I were going to tie you up, it might be inside a stall,” I say, my voice shaking. “Seems more secure.”
He nods. “Good instinct.”
I circle around to stand in front of him.
He looks up at me. “Tell me to get up, City Girl.”
“Get up, Cowboy.”
He stands and looms over me.
But his gaze stays locked on my face.
I actually do feel like I’m in charge.
“You have to do what I say?” I ask.
He nods.
“Into that empty stall, then.” I make him back up until he’s in a stall with thick metal bars.
Then, pulse racing, I grab one of his wrists and lash it to the bars, whipping the rope around in a figure eight.
“Is this too tight?” I ask breathlessly as I work.
“I’m an asshole you’re tying up until someone in charge can take me away for a very long time,” he says dryly. “Don’t worry about too tight.”
“But you’re actually a friend who is helping me get over my fears,” I whisper as I pull the rope behind his head and grab his other hand.
His palm is broad and rough and warm, and there's a callus at the base of his thumb. I trace it with my finger, and he exhales slow through his nose.
“You see me as a friend?” He turns his head and looks at me as I secure his wrist. “That’s nice.”
“I have a terrible track record of thinking people are on my side, though,” I tell him, braver now that he’s actually tied up.
I step back and look at my work. The knots could be better. They’re lumpy and crooked.
But he’s tied to the stall, and I don’t think he could get out of it.
“You just let me tie you up, huh?”
He nods. “Tell me about trusting the wrong people.”
“I told you some of it.” I scuff my boot against the stall floor. “Being pregnant makes a girl desperate.”
“Don’t ever apologize for that mama bear protective instinct. We love that in this family.” He wiggles his fingers. “This is good and tight. But uh, since I’m not actually a bad guy, do you think…”
I gasp and surge forward, undoing the knot quickly. He just watches me from under his lashes, his eyes dark and soft. The loop around his wrists tightens gently before it loosens, as I tug, and his breath catches, just a little.
I feel that hitch ripple through my belly.
Ducking my head, I go to the other side and free that hand, too. The rope slides away from his body, pooling in my hands, and I stare down at it.
