Page 92 of Unbound

“Okay?”

“That’s . . . that’s all I came to say.”

Her brow wrinkles as she watches me for a long moment, waiting for something. For once, I do what I want without overthinking it—stepping forward and kissing her. Hard and intense like I always crave to do.

Her hiccup of surprise melts into a moan as she latches her hands onto my shoulders. I scoop her up into my arms, heart thumping.

“Sorry,” I whisper. “I’ve been thinking about that since the bar.” Far longer, if I’m honest with myself.

“Me too,” Paloma admits quietly. “I’m glad you’re here. I . . . I missed you.”

The words feel weighted. I missed you. How long have I waited for this from her lips? I’ve yearned for them. It’s like water to my parched soul. I’m desperate for her.

“Can I see your room?” I ask with a grin. She giggles into my neck and nods, leaning back with bright eyes. This is all I want. Forever, this is all I need.

She directs me up the stairs and to her room. It’s just as warm and cozy as I thought it would be. So her in every way. I want to stretch out across her bed and swim in the scent of her.

Instead, I splay her across the half-undone bedding of her queen-sized bed. Her blond lustrous strands twinkle in the lamplight. I brush a few stray pieces from her face before kissing her mouth, sweeter this time.

“If this isn’t what you want, tell me,” I say, half-kneeling over her. Her face is flushed and beautiful. I’m so in love with her it hurts.

My hand reaches up to rub at my chest.

“I want you, always.”

I shake my head, closing my eyes and struggling with the words I’m desperate to say and terrified to admit in equal measure.

“The things I want to do to you, P . . .” My voice feels hoarse, almost raw in desperation. “I—I need you to promise you’ll tell me if you don’t like it.”

“You know my body better than I do, Bennett,” she whispers, almost shy.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You never would.” She reaches to hold my face in her hands. “But you have to trust me to tell you if I want you to stop.”

“That’s the problem, P,” I whisper, hand covering hers where it still rests against my overheated cheek. “I trust you with everything.” I lean down to kiss her forehead. “But not with your limits.”

She sits up almost abruptly.

“Oh—okay. Yeah.” She scrambles to kneel, pulling me a little by the wrist so I’ll sit next to her. “Why don’t we set them, then. You . . .” Her voice drops a little, eyes darting away from me. “You can decide what I need and when.”

I feel like I should be ashamed of the way my cock hardens at the words she’s saying, the desperation for control. To have her trust like that, to take care of her.

“Yeah,” I agree. “Tell me what you don’t want, P.”

“Don’t be mean,” she whispers, and the words hit like an anvil on my heart. “I don’t want to be called names or talked down to.”

“Never,” I whisper, but hold back the words I want to say, the anger toward the demons in her past simmering in my gut. “What else, love?”

“I don’t . . . I don’t think I like pain. Like, real pain. I don’t want to be hit.”

“I’d never hurt you.”

She nods, eyes softening at the familiar words. “I know.”

“What about tying you up?” I ask, the words choked but somehow more freeing than I anticipated.

“Yes.”