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"I wore the sunglasses because you bought six pairs and looked ready to shoot the clerk if I didn't pick one," I reply with a faint, wry smile.

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest. "The clerk was staring too long at your mouth, Iris. He was lucky I only took his sunglasses."

"You're an impossible man, Romeo."

"I'm your man," he corrects smoothly, leaning in until his lips brush against the soft skin behind my ear. His breath is warm, sending an electric shiver down my spine that settles deep between my thighs. "And I like seeing your face bare. I like seeing every freckle across your nose, every curve of your lips, and every single silver line around your eyes."

He takes the ribbon from my fingers, his hands surprisingly gentle for a man who snaps bones for a living.

"Do you know what this ribbon is to me, Iris?" he whispers, his lips moving against my jawline.

"A nuisance?"

"A reminder," he says softly, his tone turning serious, heavy with that dark, ancient guilt he carries beneath his arrogance. "A reminder of the three seconds I was too slow. Every time I looked at you in New York, every time you tied this silk over your eyes to hide from the world, it was like a knife twisting into my ribs. I hated that I put you in the dark."

My throat tightens. I reach out blindly, my fingers finding his broad shoulder, sliding up the corded muscle of his neck until my palm rests flat against his rough, stubbled cheek.

"It wasn't your fault, Romeo," I whisper, the words coming from a place inside me that no longer harbors anger. "The bishop made that choice. My father made that choice. You were just the boy who tried to catch the falling glass."

Romeo's breath hitches. He turns his head into my palm, pressing a hard, lingering kiss to the center of my hand, right over the scar from Mick's blade.

"I told you once," he growls softly against my skin, "I cannot give you your eyes back. But I will make sure the rest of your senses belong to heaven."

He lifts the red ribbon, sliding the smooth silk through his fingers.

"Let me play with you, Kitten."

I tilt my head, my eyebrows knitting together in curiosity. "Play with me, how?"

"You rely on sound, on touch, on scent," he murmurs, his hands coming up to my face. "Let me take away the daylight completely. Let me blindfold you with your own silk, and let me show you what my hands can do when you have nothing else to hold onto."

A hot, thrilling spike of anticipation shoots straight through my core.

My lips part on a shallow inhale. "You think you can make me surrender with a piece of cloth?"

"I don't think, Iris," he whispers against my mouth, his fingers already bringing the red silk over my forehead. "I know."

He slides the ribbon down until it covers my eyes, the smooth fabric cool against my lids. He gathers the ends behind my head, pulling the knot snug, plunging my vision from the pale golden glow of the cabin into complete, velvety darkness.

The moment the light vanishes, my other senses roar to life with startling clarity.

I hear the gentle slap of water against the yacht's hull outside. I hear Sofia let out a soft huff in her sleep. I hear the rustle of Romeo's linen shirt as he moves and the deep, heavy rhythm of his breathing right in front of my face.

The scent of him becomes all-consuming: the dark tobacco, the aged wood, the faint metallic trace of the Kimber pistol in his shoulder holster, and the raw musk of his desire.

"Can you see anything, Pet?" he whispers, his hands resting on my bare knees.

"Nothing," I breathe, my heart beginning to hammer against my ribs.

"Good," he purrs.

His hands slide up from my knees, slowly, agonizingly so, his calloused palms dragging over the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. The contrast between his rough, battle-hardened hands and the soft flesh of my legs is breathtaking. Goosebumps pebble across my skin as his fingers climb higher, his thumbs grazing the lace trim of my ivory panties.

"Lift your hips, Iris."

I obey without a word, my hands clutching the sheets on either side of me as he hooks his thumbs into the lace waistband, sliding the damp fabric down my legs and off my ankles.

The cool cabin air brushes against my bare pussy for a moment before his warm, heavy breath washes over me.