Page 52 of Hell On Heels
Lottie swallowed her urge to roll her eyes and instead gave a small, breathy laugh. “You and your damn patience,” she said, her voice light but tinged with longing. “I don’t know whether to hate it or love it.”
Razor’s smirk was slow and knowing. “Maybe both,” he said, his hand tightening slightly at her waist. “But you’ll thank me later.”
As Razor’s lips trailed along the curve of her neck, down to the hollow of her collarbone, Lottie let out a soft, involuntary moan. She felt the faint curve of his lips against her skin. He was smiling, and the realization sent a shiver through her. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was reveling in every second of it.
His mouth and hands worked in tandem, driving her to the edge of reason. One hand gripped her waist firmly, holding her in place, while the other explored her back, his touch alternating between soft and teasingly rough. Lottie’s breath hitched as his lips lingered on a particularly sensitive spot, the heat of his breath adding to the ache building within her.
“You’re enjoying this too much,” she murmured, her voice barely audible through the haze of her desire.
Razor chuckled low against her skin, the sound vibrating through her. “And you’re not?” he replied, his tone wicked, his lips never straying far.
She opened her mouth to protest, but another gasp escaped her instead as his hand slid lower, his touch possessive yet unhurried. Her head tilted back instinctively, giving him better access, even as a small part of her simmered with impatience.
“Razor…” she breathed, her tone a mix of plea and warning.
He lifted his head just enough to meet her gaze, his smoky eyes filled with that maddening confidence. “Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice dark and steady as if daring her.
But she didn’t. She couldn’t.
Chapter Thirty
Moving her back toward the bedroom, Razor barely let his hands leave her. Even when he needed to guide her along, he kept contact, his fingers brushing hers as he took her hand and gently tugged her forward. The anticipation in his touch was electric, a silent promise that made Lottie’s heart race.
When they reached the bed, Razor sat down, pulling her into the space between his knees. His dark eyes met hers, smoldering with intensity, and for a moment, time seemed to stretch. Lottie felt his hands slide slowly up her sides, his touch warm and deliberate, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.
“I brought you a gift,” he said, his voice low and steady, his lips curving into that signature smirk that made her knees weak.
Lottie blinked, her breath hitching at his words. A gift? The idea of Razor giving her anything besides these overwhelming, all-consuming moments was unexpected, and the mystery only added to the heat simmering between them.
“What kind of gift?” she asked, her voice rougher than she intended as she tried to match his steady demeanor. Her handsrested lightly on his shoulders, her fingers flexing against the hard muscle beneath.
Razor didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his thumbs brushed along her ribs as his smirk deepened. “Patience,” he murmured, his gaze dropping briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes. “I’ll show you. But you’ll have to trust me.”
“I trust you,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart. Lottie’s words seemed to hang in the air, heavy with meaning, and for a moment, Razor’s expression shifted. The smirk faded, replaced by something deeper, something raw that flickered briefly in his eyes.
His hands stilled on her sides, his thumbs brushing gently against her ribs as if to anchor himself to the moment. “You don’t know how much that means,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.
Lottie tilted her head, her fingers curling against his shoulders. “Then show me,” she whispered, leaning in slightly, her breath mingling with his. “What’s this gift you’ve brought?”
Razor smiled, the edge of his confidence returning as he slid his hands lower, resting them lightly at her hips. “Close your eyes,” he said, his tone low and commanding.
Lottie hesitated, but the trust she’d just declared steadied her. She let her eyes flutter shut, her breath slow and deliberate as the anticipation built.
She felt him shift, the weight of his presence leaving the bed momentarily. The faint sound of a drawer sliding open reached her ears, followed by the soft rustle of fabric. Her curiosity nearly got the better of her, but she kept her eyes closed, trusting him completely.
“Alright,” Razor said finally, his voice closer now, the warmth of him returning to her space. “Open your eyes.”
When she did, her gaze fell on his outstretched hand, and he held up a bundle of rope. Her eyes lifted to his; excitement had her pulse speeding up. Running her fingers over the white rope, she waited for Razor’s instructions.
Razor held out his hand for Lottie to take, his eyes warm and inviting yet filled with purpose. She hesitated only for a moment before sliding her hand into his, feeling the warmth of his palm against hers. As she rose to her feet, he gently slipped her evening gown from her shoulders, the silky fabric cascading to the floor in a whisper. She stood before him in the delicate lingerie he had chosen for her, the faint blush of her cheeks complementing the intricate lace.
Guiding her to the center of the room, Razor took great care in arranging the space. The soft glow of candlelight illuminated the room, casting warm, flickering shadows on the walls. A plush, padded mat awaited her, ensuring her comfort as he helped her ease into a seated position. He knelt before her, taking her hands in his, and spoke in a low, reassuring voice.
“Are you ready, Lottie? This is about trust—our connection. If at any moment you feel uneasy, just say the word, and I’ll stop.”
She met his gaze, her lips curling into a soft smile. “I trust you, Razor. Completely.”
Her words were all the encouragement he needed. From a neatly coiled bundle beside him, Razor unraveled a length of soft jute rope. He ran it through his hands, testing its texture, ensuring there were no imperfections that might cause discomfort. He began with a simple chest harness, wrapping the rope aroundher torso with a precision that was both technical and tender. Each loop and knot was placed with care, not too tight, not too loose, balancing restraint with comfort.
