Page 72 of Sins of Arrogance

More im­por­tantly, is her cau­tion go­ing to win?

Will she deny me? Deny us?

The beast of de­sire rages and claws in­side me, snarling its need and push­ing against my own con­trol. But this has to be Kara’s de­ci­sion.

Be­cause she can­not meet the mon­ster that re­jects the con­cept of right and wrong, the cold ra­tio­nal­ity that would jus­tify turn­ing her own body’s re­sponses against her.

Af­ter in­ter­minably long sec­onds, her eyes open and they meet mine as she nods her head.

And I can breathe again. But it’s not enough. “You need to say it.”

“Ye…” She clears her throat. “Yes.”

Pulling Kara with me be­cause let­ting her go right now is not hap­pen­ing, I ma­neu­ver us two steps closer to the night­stand on my side of the bed. Then I lean down and open the drawer.

And her fin­gers fi­nally dig into my shirt, hold­ing on tightly.

Some­thing I have no name for shud­ders through me and I re­trieve the sup­ple leather cuffs. Padded and lined with black silk, they’re the same ones I used that first time with her.

I’ve used other things since: ties, rope, her un­der­wear on a few no­table oc­ca­sions. But these are the only cuffs. They’re hers and us­ing them sig­ni­fies some­thing to both of us.

Tonight, I will take her apart with plea­sure and then put her back to­gether again.

The mo­ment Kara sees her cuffs, her pupils blow wide and she fol­lows the move­ment of my hand as I bring them be­tween us.

I rub the soft leather over her peb­bled nip­ples and she groans.

Tug­ging at the neck­line of her sum­mer dress, I or­der, “Off.”

Kara doesn’t hes­i­tate, reach­ing be­hind her­self to un­zip the dress. Then she shrugs it off, re­veal­ing rasp­berry tipped naked breasts and boy shorts that cling to her curves like a sec­ond skin.

“Ev­ery­thing,” I de­mand.

Bit­ing her lips, she pushes the boy shorts down, re­veal­ing the pretty curls be­tween her legs. The scent of her arousal wafts up from her pussy and I lick my lips.

With a needy lit­tle moan, she steps out of her shoes.

“Hands.”

She lifts her hands to­gether and I se­cure the cuffs, buck­ling each one slowly, and de­lib­er­ately. I slip my fin­ger be­tween each cuff and her wrist, check­ing the place­ment.

They’re snug but not too tight.

Ten­sion re­leases from her body un­til she sways on her feet.

Fuck. The way she re­sponds to this.

Wrap­ping one arm around her to keep her up­right, I reach for the cov­ers and rip them from the bed. Then I lift her again, bridal style and be­cause I can’t not, I kiss her un­til she’s squirm­ing in my arms and my blood is rush­ing through my veins like liq­uid fire.

Only then do I lay her down. “Arms up.”

She lifts her bound wrists and I at­tach the cuffs to the hook that pops out from the head­board when I press the hid­den lever.

Kara tugs once, but the cuffs don’t give and her en­tire body goes lax.

I lean down and kiss the in­side of each el­bow be­fore run­ning my hands down her arms. Goose­bumps erupt on her skin and she moans.

“Are you wet for me?” I know the an­swer. I can smell her sweet nec­tar, but I want to hear her say it.