Page 11 of Bound

“Whatever you want.”

Her smile returns, faint and dangerous. “That sounds suspiciously generous.”

“It won’t always feel generous.”

Her breath catches, that pretty flush rising in her cheeks.

My cock hardens with a violence that nearly breaks me. I step closer until my body cages hers.

“In here, I can order. I can punish. I can take you apart until you forget your own name.”

Her breath leaves her in a soft rush of words. “But I decide whether you get the privilege.”

“Exactly.” I lean in until my mouth brushes her ear. “Safe word.”

Her fingers curl into my shirt. “Red.”

“Slow?” I ask.

“Yellow.”

“If you use either?”

She whispers. “You stop. Immediately.”

“And if I push too hard?” I ask.

She says, “I tell you.”

“And if your pride gets in the way?” I demand.

She huffs a laugh. “My pride is non-negotiable.”

“If your pride gets in the way?” I grip her chin and turn her face to mine.

Her eyes soften.

“I trust you to take it away,” she says.

God. I kiss her because I can’t speak.

The room deserves reverence. She deserves reverence, this first time trusting me like this.

But even with her, I’m still Lucian Bachman.

I don’t kiss her gently.

My mouth takes hers with the hunger I have been holding since Red Shutters. Since blood on a towel. Since she watched Isobel step into our life and tried not to flinch. Since I saw her standing at the edge of a cliff, I realized I would never stop wanting to put her in my pocket.

Erin kisses me back like she’s starving for this. For me. Her hands slide under my shirt, shoving it back. I let it fall. Her fingers work at the buttons of my shirt, impatient, clumsy with want.

I catch her wrists.

She glares up at me. “Already?”

My favorite version of her. “Already disobedient?” I murmur.

“What?” she snips. “You’re overdressed.”