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“Too tight?”
“No.”
“Your hand?”
I flex my fingers. “Fine.”
He checks the knot once more.
An hour ago, this had never crossed my mind. Not once. I had never looked at Kell and wondered what it would feel like to let him tie me to a bed. Now I’m lying here while he tests the scarf against my wrist, checking circulation and pressure like this is a perfectly reasonable thing for us to be doing on a weeknight.
It is not perfectly reasonable. It’s probably a little insane.
It is also turning me on so much I’m having trouble thinking about anything except the fact that he could tighten the scarf again if he decided to and I wouldn’t complain.
That part scares me. Not because I think Kell would hurt me. I don’t. But wanting this is new enough that I don’t entirely trust my own judgment yet. I want the restriction. I want his attention on every reaction. I want to find out what happens when I give up control on purpose.
He unties me completely, and the scarf falls across the bed. We talk through the rest too. If anything hurts in a way I don’t want, I’ll tell him. By the time we’re finished, I’m considerably more aroused than any conversation about circulation and emergency exits has a right to make me.
“This is ridiculous,” I mutter.
“What is?”
“The planning shouldn’t be hot.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t have a good answer for that.”
“Then why are you arguing with it?”
He takes one step toward me, and the air seems to change before he even touches me. My stomach pulls tight again, but this time there’s nothing uncertain about why.
His hand closes gently around my side and draws me against him. The first kiss is almost gentle. The second isn’t. His mouth moves along my jaw to the place just below my ear, and my breath catches before I can pretend otherwise. Right. This.
This is still Kell. The same warm woven body I’ve had my hands on all week. The same man who already knows exactly what kissing my neck does to me.
He does it again, slower this time, and I slide my hands around him. The scarf lies loose on the bed beside us. For now, neither of us reaches for it.
I change my mind twice about whether I want to be naked before he ties me, and Kell doesn’t rush me through the decision. Finally, I leave my bra and underwear on.
Kell doesn’t touch either one. He kisses me again instead, deeper this time, his hand moving over the bare skin along my side while the other holds me against him. The fact that he doesn’t test the decision I just made is unexpectedly hot.
Less than a minute later, I reach behind myself and unhook my bra. Kell pauses.
“Changed my mind.”
“Okay.”
I pull it off and toss it toward the chair. “Now you can touch me.”
His hand cups my breast, and the first sweep of his thumb over my nipple sends heat straight through me. He does it again while his mouth closes over mine, and I lean into him before remembering what we’re about to do. My fingers close around his wrist.
“Wait.”
Kell stops instantly. The room seems too quiet. My mouth is dry. I can hear my own breath coming too fast, feel the beat of my pulse against the fingers wrapped around him. I make myself loosen my grip.
“I’m okay.”
