Page 7 of Safe Word

My eyes widened, caught on every imagined reason why my voice might fail. But that flicker of doubt was enough to tip me forward.

I dipped my head in agreement, watching his gaze fall to my knees that were trying to press together, but the leather mocked the effort.

His approval hummed low in his chest, a sound that quivered through the air between us. He pulled away just enough to let me breathe again, though the space he left behind felt achingly empty.

My gaze travelled to his waist, to the telltale strain of fabric against the zipper. Curiosity rushed up my neck, and before I could stop it, my tongue slipped out to wet my lips – as if already craving the taste of him.

What was wrong with me? I wasn’t into one-night stands. Not really. But something about this damned anonymity, his voice… his body… just—

The motion didn’t go unnoticed.

Silver flashed in my vision, and in the next moment, cool steel pressed against the underside of my chin. My breath caught in my throat as he tilted my head up with the flat edge of the large, serrated knife. Despite the fear, the way he wielded it was almost tender. A paradox of control and care.

I was responding to it too well.

‘Hungry, little angel?’ he asked.

The side of the blade pressed into my soft skin, tilting my chin further up, and forcing my gaze to lock with his shadowed mask.

‘Eyes on me at all times,’ he rumbled.

I exhaled the breath I’ve been holding.

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. ‘Tell me, angel—’ he slanted his head, the mask casting shadows that seemed to move with him, ‘—are you scared?’

My breath stuttered, my lips parting as the heat of his words wrapped around me.

‘Yes,’ I admitted, the word trembling between us, as raw as the desire coiling in my stomach. Though it wasn’t the entire truth. I was scared of the knife. But not of him.

Why?

He froze. The knife lingered under my chin, the flat of it still pressed to my skin. For a moment, the air turned too heavy, and I reminded myself: red. Say it and it stops. The thought pulsed like a heartbeat, a small light in the thick dark.

Adrenaline surged through as the silence drew out. He waited. And in that unbearable pause, it hit me—

He might stop. Walk away – because I couldn’t handle it. Because I’m weak.

No!

Don’t stop. Don’t retreat. If he pulled away now, I would shatter. I wasn’t done.

I wasn’t done!

But he didn’t. Mercifully.

His slow, careful movements gave me every chance to retreat. Each inhale rattled in alarm, but the way he held the blade was controlled, almost reverent. And while it kept my fear alive, it also held it at bay.

‘Safe word?’ he reminded. He must have seen something on my face to have asked that. The question hung between us, a tether back to safety that he offered without hesitation.

‘Green,’ I whispered, surprising myself with the strength in my voice. ‘More.’

He waited for a breath longer, as if to make sure I really meant it. Then angled the blade away from my throat, ensuring my eyes remained locked on him.

My heart skipped a beat as my eyes caught my reflection in the gilded mirror behind him. The light softened my features, casting me in a haze that felt almost surreal. The woman staring back wasn’t the broken woman I remembered. She wasn’t the one who flinched at every shadow or wilted under a man’s touch.

No, this woman…

Could she really be me?