Page 216 of Unexpected Hero

I’m so damn in love with this man.

Yet I haven’t told him.

Every time I try, I chicken out. Because, deep down, I know he won’t say it back.

At times, he’s an impenetrable fortress.

Is that just how he is? Or is there more to his armor?

Am I the only one thinking of forever?

For months, I was plagued by doubts — most of them regarding our sexy times. A recently deflowered virgin dating a Dom? Not ideal.

My worries about my inexperience were so interwoven with my religious shame I didn’t think I’d ever be able to move past them.

But I did.

Steadily, he shattered my barriers.

I used to think I’d never fully satisfy him — especially regarding his rope kink. The light bondage was fine from the beginning. At first, he tied my wrists together. Once I was comfortable, he began tying me to the headboard. The ankles were next. It got a little dicey after that.

There were a few moments when I thought I was at my max. After all, the idea of being completely restrained and at someone else’s mercy is outright terrifying.

Then, the weirdest thing happened.

I began craving more time in bondage. On my entire body, and not merely my wrists or ankles. Whether I’m bound and suspended from above or merely restrained while on the bed, I can’t get enough. From head to toe, he can wrap me up like a mummy, and I’ll simply say thank you, then beg for more.

James has his theories on why I love it so much. According to him, it could be the physical sensation of pressure on my body, much like a weighted blanket. Neurospicy peeps like me tend to enjoy that, and I certainly do.

He says another possibility is that being rope-topped gives my mind no other choice than to stop racing. Once he’s got me wrapped up, there’s nothing I can do to ease my worries or tackle my ever-present to-do list. It gives me an unspoken permission to just exist.

No guilt. No pressure.

Simply be in the moment.

I suspect the latter theory is more accurate.

It’s similar to when a cat or dog sleeps on your lap. You can’t possibly be expected to do anything with a case of pet paralysis, right?

How bizarre is it that when I’m the most restrained is when I feel the freest?

Not only is it therapeutic and euphoric for me, but he loves it too. And that’s heady as hell since it tickles my need to serve and please him.

It’s been a long road, and I love where we’re at sexually.

All his kinks are mine. Like fate or kismet.

And yet, he’s still guarded. Secretive and evasive.

Why?

It makes me wonder if he’s not as serious about me as I am about him.

I know my limited relationship history is toxic at best, given my past. Nonetheless, I’d still like to believe that a year into this one, I’d have a better grasp on his feelings for me.

He’s mercurial.

When we’re together, his attention on me is so intent that I can barely breathe. I love it. At other times, he’s dodgy and reserved.

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