Page 78 of Reckless Vow

“So fucking gorgeous,” he rasps, and steps to the side.

I turn to follow, but he raises his finger. “Don’t move, baby.” It’s a demand, but there is a softness to it, and in this moment I want to follow his every wish.

It’s official—I’ve lost my mind.

He still doesn’t touch me, just steps slowly behind me. He’s so close, but not seeing him makes me feel alone. I don’t know where to look. What to do. So I just tremble.

I stand here as he directed, my heart loud in my temples. He buries his nose into my hair again. “Like an angel.”

Another shudder surges through me.

I jerk, yelping, when he finally touches me. It’s just his fingers brushing my hair from my shoulder to the side.

“Shh, relax, baby.”

With his lips, he traces up my shoulder to the crook of my neck. Butterfly kisses that somehow have a direct line to my core.

I’m shivering with need so raw I want to scream and beg him. It’s been a minute and a half, and I’m literally crazy with yearning.

He continues planting kisses, his tongue swirling along my skin. Hot and wet, utterly disarming. I’m going to come just from this.

Or get violent, because this is pure torture.

Divine.

All-consuming.

Magnificent torture.

“Baldo,” I breathe.

“Yes, sweetheart, tell me what you need.”

He snakes his arms around me, and I lean into him, barely able to stand.

“You.” The word turns into a moan as he brushes over my nipples with his fingers.

Suddenly, his touch is at my throat. Only it’s not his hands, it’s something smooth and cold. A silky fabric. He glides it up my neck and face to my eyes.

A blindfold.

My heart bursts into a galloping rhythm. And then there is darkness. Jesus.

He ties it gently at the back of my head. His mouth comes to my ear, the breath hot on my skin.

“I want you to only feel, baby. Can you do that for me?”

Only feel? As if the tornado of emotions swirling inside me, or the explosion of sensations over my body, weren’t enough.

He traces my skin, taking his time, caressing my arms. From shoulders to hands, he is barely touching me, and I shiver with such primal craving it almost scares me.

How can one man have such a hold over my body when he hasn’t even done anything?

“Baldo,” I breathe again, not even sure if I’m pleading, praising, berating.

“You’re perfect. My perfect girl.”

Oh fuck, his praise quiets my brain.

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