Page 125 of Bad Attitude
He thinks it’s me, not him. He thinks there’s some trigger there.
But luckily, there is. “That was when I left my home,” I tell him. “With… uh…”
“Following your first boyfriend?” Declan draws the conclusion I want him to. “Did he ever tie you up?”
“No.” Not even close.
Declan nods. “I hate him, but I’m also strangely grateful to him, because without him, I’d never havemet you.”
An interesting way of looking at it. And maybe I should stop caring about the woman in Thousand Oaks, when he’s just told me there’s no one else in his life. It’s clear sheisin his life, somehow. The jewelry was for her, but… this rope is for me.
And I know which I prefer.
I make a decision, reaching up the headboard.
His eyes light up, and he gives me a smile. “Thank you.” His smile turns playful. “Although if you want me to force you, that could be fun too.”
He coils rope around my wrist before I have a chance to reply or change my mind, drawing it snug. It’s soft against my skin, not rubbing or digging in like I expected. He binds my other hand too, and I close my eyes and draw a breath, trying hard not to struggle. Why am I letting him do this?
Because he wanted to. Because you trust him.
Do I, though?
It takes him barely a minute, the rope whipping back and forth as he winds it through the bars and ties something intricate I could never hope to undo.
“Where did you learn to do this?”
He doesn’t look away from what he’s doing. “Marines, right?”
“Uh… yeah?”
“All that time in the rigging. I picked up a few things.”
I narrow my eyes at him, but he just chuckles and tucks the trailing loops out of the way. “I’ve picked up lots of things over the years, and you don’t haveto worry about from where. You just have to lie there, and let me show you.”
Fair, I suppose. We all have a past. Maybe his is less fucked up than mine.
He sits back, eyeing his handiwork, then pulls out another strand from the bundle. “Spread your legs.”
I knew it was coming, but that doesn’t make it any easier to obey him. And it’s not like I have a choice, not anymore. Not when I’ve come this far, and my wrists are bound. Yet I still can’t bring myself to do it.
“Biting your lip again,” he murmurs. “Fuck, that makes me hard.”
I’m lying here naked andthatmakes him hard?
Declan doesn’t seem to be in the mood to wait for me. He loops rope beneath the corner of the bed somewhere, then lashes my ankle with the other end. Then he uses it to draw my leg toward him, and I can’t resist. The bastard does it slowly, too, watching me the whole time, forcing me to spread for him, inch by inch. I close my eyes, turning my face away, listening to his movement as he walks around the bed and repeats it on the other side. And now I’m tied hands and feet, completely helpless on his bed.
Why did I agree to this?
The truth is, I didn’t. I resigned myself to it. Like that changes the outcome.
“You shaved,” he murmurs.
My eyes are still closed, but it tells me where he’s looking. And I know he hasn’t only just noticed. “Yes.” I catch myself biting my lipagain, and stop with an effort. “Is that… okay?”
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. So are you.”
Somehow, he makes that sound sincere. I still have a hard time believing it.
