Page 33 of Bound

My heart stumbles. “What?”

“Not for Carlos. Not for the Morettis. Not for the girl who walked into my apartment with a lie in her hand.” His gaze burns into mine. “For me.”

I just stand there, taking him in.

“And for you,” he adds, rougher. “Because this is what you want to bring you back to me. To us. To who we are now. Together.”

Damn him for being everything I ever needed but didn’t know it had a name.

“Lucian.” My hands go to the hem of my sweater. I pull it over my head.

Slowly.

The air touches my skin. Warm. Heavy. Charged.

Lucian watches every inch I reveal as if I am not guilty. As if I am not ruined. As if the sight of me is still enough to make the world shrink to us.

I drop the sweater. The jeans I pulled on before breakfast follow.

Then my bra.

Then my panties.

My clothes are littered around me, dotting the rug.

I stand before him naked and trembling, and for once, I do not know whether I am trembling from desire or pain. With us, they seem to be forever intertwined.

Lucian looks at me for a long time. So long that it makes my nerves rise to the point I think I might say our safe word for the first time in my life.

“Say something,” I beg.

His jaw tightens. “Knees.”

The word hits like a strike.

My body responds instantly by radiating heat, low and sharp.

My pride responds too. “Lucian.”

“Knees, Erin.”

I stare at him and see the dark place in him.

The man who wants my surrender like proof. The man who wants me lowered before him so he can believe I still trust him. The man who looks at my shame and thinks if he can command my body, maybe he can drag my heart back from the ledge.

My eyes burn.

“Is that what you want?” I ask. “Submission?”

“Yes.”

The answer is immediate. It makes my stomach flip.

“You want me on my knees, surrendering to you so you can make me forget how I first came to you?”

His answer is sharp. “No.”

“Then why?” I breathe.