‘Remember?’ Less like a smile and more a cruel twist of his lips, he continues. ‘Because I do. I absolutely remember. Images playing through my brain on a fucking loop.’ His chest moves with his words. ‘Let me count the ways,’ he says with a sneer. ‘Count the ways I can make you come. And it’s always so good, isn’t it, babe? Even if you can’t bring yourself to trust. This bit of cotton? It’s your liberation. I’ll tie you up and you can pretend it was all me—all my fault. Nothing soils your milky skin like another’s vice.’ The edge in his voice is so sharp, I’m surprised it doesn’t draw blood.
‘The only thing wrong, is this calls to you, this sordid little secret. You let me tie you. Fuck you. Because you can’t help yourself. And it’s so fucked up—you let me do those things, yet you don’t trust me at all. What does that say about you?’
He sits back, breathes one more heavy breath, and with a veneer of indifference, he shrugs.
‘Admit you don’t trust me, Kate. It doesn’t mean we won’t get to fuck. There are always other ways. I could flip you over? Throw you up against the wall of the shower? Against a door? Use a chair? It’s all good.’ Like items recited from a menu, he cruelly plucks memories from my head. ‘There are so many ways, and you take them all, babe.’
‘Kai, please—’
‘Which is it to be?’ he purrs dangerously.
‘Kai,’ I plead again, holding out my arms to him. For him. As he raises a forestalling hand.
‘It’s a simple question, Kate.’ His voice simmers now with ill-concealed anger, words spoken through a clenched jaw. ‘I’m not in the mood for discussion. You either trust me in this instance or you don’t.’
‘I do, of course—’
‘Then shut the fuck up.’ Anger I could deal with, but this savage tone hits me like a slap. ‘Really,’ he adds more evenly, his gaze gliding from mine, rising to the wall behind the bed. ‘We’ll talk later. Rehash the whole thing, but right now all I want to do is fuck.’
The rawness of his delivery echoes in the air. Echoes between my legs.
Grasping the cotton rope and pulling it taut, his shoulders square, his eyes finding mine. Staring down. Daring me.
I rise to his challenge, hissing, ‘Do it.’ Yes to trusting. Yes to fucking, and yes to him.
For the first time since I’ve woken, he actually smiles. It’s just a shame it’s all wolf and teeth. And although, intellectually, I know what the makeshift rope is for, it doesn’t stop my heart from stuttering as he begins wrapping it around my wrists. My body hums with tension, even as my hips undulate as he strings anticipation and desire along with my wrists.
I try to focus on the man instead of his actions, his firm chest hovering over me, the determination on his face. He’s so close, his body just a breath from mine, his sharp jaw almost in kissing distance. His hand pushes my hip flat to the bed without acknowledging my writhing, his brow furrowing slightly as he belatedly realises there’s nowhere on the bed to tie the cotton rope to. The frown is brief as he wraps the remaining length around his left hand, clenching his fist.
His mouth finds my neck, his lips bringing me comfort the moment his words sweep it away. ‘You’re strung so tight, baby.’
‘Stop,’ I whisper. ‘Don’t call me that.’
His response is a rasping sort of chuckle, but he doesn’t say it again.
My hands trussed to his, his mouth works its way down my body in sharp, biting kisses. As he reaches my bra, he bites my breast over the cotton cup. I cry out, my body jolting, the feeling brief but so intense. I try to rise, pushing against him desperately. It’s all to no avail as he moves lower, continuing his biting and torturous touch.
Roughly, his fingers slip into the waistband of my shorts, jerking them off one hip before moving to the other. It’s an almost comical dance as he pulls them halfway down my thighs, leaving them there, shackling me.
‘If you move your hands, I won’t let you come.’
My eyes fly open—I’d been concentrating on his progress with my pants, silently praying that they’d just somehow melt away—and he said... what again? Why is he unravelling the rope from his hand?
‘Well?’ His voice is lower now, but not sharp. A commanding echo of other times.
‘I won’t,’ I promise as his words spill a multitude of images across my mind, each one of them enough to make me squirm a little more. ‘Please, Kai, I—’
Words die in my throat as his free hand trails down the sensitive underside of my arm before slipping into my bra. His finger circles and massages, tightening slowly; the waves of his attentions threatening to drown me in sheer sensational bliss. I arch my back, swallowing a whimper; his fingers now unyielding until he moves the fabric under my breast, replacing the torture with his tongue.
I shudder—I gasp.
‘You always rise to my touch.’ His tone is almost considering as he makes tight circles with the tip of his tongue, sucking the pebbled flesh into his mouth.
I moan loudly, moving to hold my fettered hands over his head when his growl halts me, my nipple now hard between piercing teeth. So I don’t. I lower them, trying hard to lie still as I’ve promised, trying to smother my reactions as he tortures and teases that tiny piece of me until I’m fit to burst. Like a dam, I imagine the sensation overcoming me, breaching and overflowing walls, when he suddenly sits up, transferring his attention to the fly of his jeans.
Oh thank god.
Because if my heart beats any faster, it’s likely to stop.
