Page 30 of Don't Fall For Your Best Friend

However, Paxton soothes my fears when he touches my cheek.

“Are you okay?”

I nod. “I’m ready.”

He dims the lights and plays music through his iPhone. A soulful Rigsby Collins tune floats through the air, creating the perfect ambience for this night.

Paxton pulls a knife from his pocket and opens it. “God, you’re a dream,” he whispers, and I’m not sure if he meant for me to hear him.

But I did. Goosebumps erupt all over my skin.

“I’ve never done anything like this before,” I say.

Paxton raises a brow. “Me either, Hart. This is all new to me.”

I breathe out a sigh of relief, glad Paxton has done nothing like this with anyone else. Not that I thought he had, but I want to know how kinky he’s gotten without coming right out and asking him.

He steps closer, and my body tightens with anticipation. My heartbeat picks up, and a swarm of butterflies flutter in my belly.

Paxton runs one hand up my leg, and it causes my thighs to press together to quench the pressure building in my core. I want his hands there.

He’s slow, torturously slow, and a moan slips out of my mouth. “You sound frustrated,” he tells me in a voice I’ve never heard from him. It’s low. Raspy. Breathy and needy.

It turns me on more than I’ve ever been before.

“I am frustrated,” I breathe out, wishing he’d touch me already.

He cuts a small slit into the shoulder of the bodysuit, revealing my flesh. He stares at my skin for a beat too long. “I never thought I’d be into something like this, but it’s hot.”

So is Paxton as he licks his lips, staring down at me.

“It is rather hot,” I agree with him.

“I don’t want you doing this with anyone else. Only me.”

“Only you.” I’m digging this possessive side Paxton has kept hidden from me.

I want more of it.

He grazes the knife across my stomach, cutting more of the suit. He pulls the tear, making it large enough to see the waistband of my panties. His finger brushes over the material, and I’m so turned on I can barely breathe.

My pulse pumps my heated blood through my body and it thrums in my ears.

Paxton’s green eyes stay transfixed on my exposed skin, like it’s a long-lost treasure he’s been searching for years to uncover. “Your skin is like silk,” he tells me. “I need more of it.” He slices a hole in the bodysuit at my thigh and brushes his fingertips along the revealed skin.

It’s a weird sense of freedom being bound by the rope. An oxymoron if I’ve ever known one, but it’s true. I don’t want to move, yet a small part of me wants to touch Paxton like he’s touching me.

His hands feather over my skin, causing goosebumps to race up my spine. “I want to see your panties, Hart,” he breathes out. His gaze shoots to meet mine. “Sorry. I’ve just been thinking about them a lot since the night of the vibrator. I’ve been wondering what kind you like to wear.”

I gather my courage to say, “Why don’t you keep cutting and find out?”

There’s a flash of something deep in Paxton’s eyes as he stares at me. Desire? He raises the knife. “Get ready.”

Anticipation nearly rips me in two.

“Shit, Hart, you’re bleeding,” Paxton says, raising his knife to cut me from the ropes that bind me. “I accidentally cut you somehow.” He works through the rope as I stare down at the bright crimson blood smeared along my belly.

I don’t feel anything.

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