“Bite your lip. Blush and look so goddamnhelpless. Like you’re just waiting for me to pin you to that mattress and fuck you into it.” His eyes meet mine, steady and consuming. “You’re the most infuriating, contradictory, compelling woman I’ve ever tied to my bed. And you lie there like you’reprey, pulling at the predator in me.”
Wait. Shit.What?
“Prey?” I’m not prey. I blink at him. “Tied?” I should’ve led with that.
“Mmm-hmm.” He crosses to the dresser,opening the top drawer and pulling out a bundle of rope, tightly wrapped, with a strand around it that he tugs free. It spills open in his hands.
“The hell—?” I begin. “Declan…”
“Don’t move.” His voice cracks out. “Not unless you want to make your punishmentworse.”
I hadn’t realized I had, but I’ve sat up enough to have to sink back down into the mattress. I swallow nervously. “I’ve… um…”
“Never been tied up before?” he finishes with a smile,prowlingtoward me with the rope in his hands.
“No,” I mutter weakly. I can’t look away from the rope. “Wait. How do you have rope?” I blink, focusing on him. “Whydo you have rope?” And who the hell else has he used it on?
“Hands on the headboard, please,” he says, putting a knee on the bed next to me.
Please. Like this is somehowcivilized.
“I don’t want to be tied up.”
“And yet it’s happening. You’ll get hurt less if you cooperate.”
That isnotthe right answer. “Declan, no.” I make to push myself up, but his hand snaps out, finding my throat. It closes around my skin with a gentle pressure, and he leans in.
“Try me, Hellcat,” he whispers, voice low. “Pleasedo. I wouldlovethe opportunity to punish you more than I already intend to.”
I can feel my pulse beating a hundred times a second beneath his grip. It’s like his eyes are digging into my soul, and he’s close enough that I can inhalehis scent. There’s no leather masking it, but no cologne either. Just his clean, natural musk; so familiar after all the time in my apartment.
The images of him naked in my shower push their way into my mind, and that doesn’t help one bit.
But I summon the dregs of my strength, meeting his gaze with as much defiance as I can. “I saidno. I don’t want this.”
“We’ve had this conversation, remember?” He pushes me firmly back down. “Reach your hands up.”
I cling to the remnants of my pride—which is hard to do when I’m lying here in just a pair of heels, and he’s still fully dressed. “Not until you tell me why you have rope.”
His mouth curls at the corners, like he’s remembering something that amuses him. “Because I bought it,” he says. “After your last visit.” He looks down at the bundle in his hand. “This is something I’ve been thinking of for a while. Something I’ve been wanting to do.” His gaze comes back up. “Something youneed.”
I should be scared, but the only thing I can think of is, “You bought it forme?”
“Yes, I did. It’s brand new.” He holds up a loop or two, like I’d be able to recognize unused bondage rope from one that’s tied down all his past love interests. But now that he mentions it, it does have a sheen, looking so smooth it’s almost like silk. And it’s not one bundle, like I’d thought, but a collection of various separate strands. “I couldn’t stop thinking ofthe way you first came undone around my cock, like you’d never had an orgasm before. There’s so much more to show you.”
I swallow hard, pressing my thighs together. “So you’ve not…”Tied up that woman who was in here. Or the other one. Or any others, for that matter.“…used it before?”
He tilts his head. “Rope, or this particular rope?”
“This rope,” I reply, frowning at the wider implication.
“Raven…” He releases my throat and grips my chin instead, turning my face so I’m looking at him directly. “For the I-don’t-know-how-many times, there’sneverbeen a woman like you. I’m not seeing anyone else, Ihaven’tseen anyone else inmonths, I don’twantto see anyone else. And I haven’t tied up anyone in…” He pauses. “Six years?”
Six years.The same age as the girl I saw.
He goes still, watching me, and only then do I realize I tensed.
“What happened six years ago?” he asks.
