Page 105 of Pretty Savage: Defy

I double-check the lock on the door and dim the lights, then walk behind him and let my fingers drag lightly across his shoulders and the back of his neck.

When he tenses, I freeze.

“Is this okay?” I ask. “Me touching you?”

Silence stretches between us before he answers with a husky, “Yes.”

I exhale in relief. It’s a small step forward, but I’ll take it.

I trail my fingers over him as I circle the chair, tracing one shoulder, the back of his neck, then the other. When I pass in front of him, my fingertips skim his throat before I return to the space behind him.

“You know what your problem is, Carrson?”

“My problem?” Indignant, he twists around to look at me.

I place my hands at his temples and turn him toward the front again.

“Yes.” I bend until my lips hover beside his ear, letting my breath warm his skin. “Your problem.”

I slide my fingers into his hair and work my nails over his scalp. A shudder moves through him so intense I feel it in both palms.

So he isn’t completely immune to me.

“Your problem is that you only trust what you can control.”

“That’s not true.” His head starts to turn toward me, but he catches himself and faces forward again.

“No?” I move in front of him and pull the red ribbon from my hair. My curls tumble around my shoulders as I hold it out. “I dare you to prove it.”

His eyes bounce from the ribbon to my face. “What do you mean?”

“Do you trust me?”

“I trusted you more this morning.”

I let the jab sit between us. I earned it.

“Do you trust me enough to let go?”

I return behind him and gather his hands by the wrists. Moving slowly so he can stop me if he wants, I guide them behind the chair and press them together.

“Like this.” I drag the ribbon across the sensitive skin inside his wrist. His breath stutters.

His head tilts. “You want to tie my hands?”

“We both know you could break free whenever you wanted.”

Only our breathing fills the room while he considers it.

I don’t push him or rush his answer.

“Okay,” he says at last.

Satisfaction moves through me, not because the ribbon can hold him, but because he’s willing to try.

I wrap the silk around his wrists and secure it firmly, then finish with a neat bow. The red stands out against his tan skin.

“There.” I step back to inspect my work. “That’s better.”