Page 60 of Mr. Romantic (Mister 2)

I walk calmly to the bedside table. My heart is racing with ideas. How far should I go? How much can she take?

I open the drawer and take out the neatly coiled length of bright yellow, double-braided nylon rope and unfasten the end.

“What’s that for?” Ivy asks. “You never said anything about rope.”

“Live a little, Ivy. Stop asking questions, stop taking so damn much, and just… live a little.”

“You’re going to tie me up?”

I kneel on the bed and straddle her hips, my cock already hard again when I ease down and rest it on her stomach. And then I say, “Press your palms together and put them out in front of you.”

“No,” Ivy says.

“Are you sure?” I ask. I’m not mad. I don’t care if she says no. I just want to make sure. “Because this is what you have to do if you want me to tell you the whole story.”

“Did you rape her or not?”

“I already told you no.”

“Did you tie her up?”

“You’ll have to give in to find out.”

Ivy takes a deep breath, struggling with her decision. Should she give in to me, put her fear aside, even though everything in her body is telling her I’m dangerous? Or should she get up, walk out, and never look back?

Truthfully, I’m not sure which answer is right for her.

She exhales and lowers her arms in front of her. Palms pressed together.

I smile. “I like the double braid because it’s soft.” I start wrapping it around her wrist, lining each pass up end to end, so it’s flat, and elegant, and strong. “And I like the yellow. I have a thing for yellow, Ivy. Which is why I really liked that bikini you were wearing at the pool yesterday afternoon.”

“What are you going to do?” Ivy asks, her voice slightly panicked now that she’s given me control. I’ve already got the rope the way I like it and I tuck the loose end underneath, near her wrist to fasten it.

“If you ever get stuck, just FYI, the rope stretches. I don’t put it on tight, it would cut off your circulation. So if I ever leave you for some length of time and you become afraid, think I won’t come back, or you’ve had enough—just wriggle around until it loosens. It might take a while, but you’re not stuck, Ivy. Got it?”

She swallows hard and nods.

“Good. Because I’m going to leave you right now.”

“What? Nolan—”

“Stop,” I say. “I’ll be back.”

I get up before she can say anything else and leave the room.

Chapter Twenty-Four - Ivy

I hear him in the house. Down the hall. Downstairs. The beeping of something, like he’s arming the house alarm. Then silence. Just me, lying here naked, my wrists bound together by soft yellow rope.

He’s into something weird. Some bondage thing. He wants to tie me up and hit me with a riding crop. Put those clamp things on my nipples or… whatever. I’m not really sure what kinky guys do. And I haven’t read the books everyone has been talking about the past few years.

But Ivy Rockwell, you have to admit, you like it enough to be here.

Right.

A part of me might find it intriguing. In an academic kind of way. I mean, I have to wonder. Why the hell do people like this stuff? I certainly don’t feel sexual right now. Lying here on the bed, hands in front of me, chewing my lip as I wait for Nolan to decide to come back.

It’s the anticipation, I get it. He’s definitely got my mind spinning. But—