Page 163 of Terms of Exposure
To a room I'd only seen once before.
He paused with his hand on the spine of the book, glancing back at me over his shoulder. Pride and hunger flickered in his expression before he pulled it.
The hidden door swung open.
It was different than I remembered.
There was still leather furniture. The spanking bench. The soft lighting and rows of cabinets lining the walls.
But what caught my attention—what made my lungs forget their job—was what hung from the ceiling.
Ropes.
Burgundy ropes, coiled with precision, waiting.
"I had a feeling," Damien said quietly, closing the door behind us, "that you might ask eventually."
I stared at the ropes, unable to look away.
"You seemed interested at the club." He shrugged. "You know how I like to be prepared."
A shiver rolled through me.
"Speaking of preparedness. I have a surprise for you."
"Me?" The question stuttered out on an exhale, adrenaline flooding my veins.
He dropped his hand to mine and pulled me through the room to a carpeted area near the metal framed bed. The lighting above flickered on as we approached, illuminating the space like a spotlight on a stage.
And there, resting in the center of the light, was a pillow.
Long. Firm. Wrapped in supple black leather.
I almost missed it at first—the detail stitched across its surface in elegant gold thread.
Emma.
My name.
"Damien..."
"I had it made months ago," he said quietly. "Before I knew if you'd ever want this." His thumb swept across my knuckles. "I wanted you to have a place in this room that belonged only to you. Somewhere you could come back to, every time, and know—"
His voice roughened.
"Know that you're safe. That you're wanted. That you're mine."
I blinked hard against the burn at the edges of my vision.
"When you kneel here," he continued, "you leave the world outside. The board meetings. The pressure. The noise in your head." His lips brushed my temple. "You give it all to me. And I hold it for you until you're ready to take it back."
"Do you understand?" he whispered in my ear.
"Yes," I managed. "I understand."
"Good girl." He stepped back, releasing my hand. "Now. Undress for me—slowly—and when you're ready, kneel on your pillow. Palms on your thighs. Eyes down."
His gaze held mine.
