Page 51 of Trouble

My stomach whooshes spectacularly at the knowledge that I’ve pleased him again. When both of his hands have reached my inner thighs, I tremble. Before he can be concerned about me, though, I breathe out, “Still green.”

Humming, he skates his fingertips against my boy shorts. Then he leans in close, flattening his palms on my thighs and inhales deeply.

“Fuck,” Cade whispers.

Declan looks over his shoulder. “She smells delicious.”

“I know.” Cade’s response is smug. “She tastes even better.”

I’m going out of my mind with want. It takes all I have not to squirm, not to clutch his hair and bring him closer. Will he taste me? Lick me? Make me come?

Declan sets those warm brown eyes on me, his expression heated and his breathing a little quicker. “Can I take these off?”

“Yes.” The sound is more like a moan than a word.

When he finds my waistband and pulls them off, he does it with a gentle ease, sliding them down my legs and offone foot, then the other. Rather than fold them neatly and set them aside like he did with the shirt, he fists the fabric roughly and brings it to his nose.

“Fuck.” It’s a low growl. With my wet panties still in his hand, he locks eyes with me. “This because of me, Melina?”

The simmering heat in my belly ignites, creating a flame that heats my skin. Why do I like my name so much better when it comes from his lips?

“You know it is.”

Eyes closed now, he inhales once more. Then he turns jerkily and drops them onto the coffee table behind him. He’s so turned on that, for a moment, he’s lost his sense of patience. His meticulous need to have everything in order.

Turning back, he rakes his gaze over me, taking in my spread legs and my breasts as they rise and fall with every rough breath I take. The oxygen burns in my lungs. As I wait for what’s next. As I’m frozen in place, worried that if I move, I’ll break the spell and discover this was all a dream. Or that I’ll shift, and he’ll realize I’m dripping on his couch. That he’ll see disorder and be unable to help but put things to rights rather than continue this game.

Instead, he licks his lips and shakes his head. “By the time I’m finished with you, there’ll be a puddle.”

His eyes flutter shut, and he takes a steadying breath. After he’s let it out in a slow stream, he regards me again, his eyes clearer, more focused. “Still green?”

I nod.

“Okay, I’m going to tie you up now.”

The smile that splits my face is uncontrollable. It’s all I want. To be under his control. In his care. With him, I’m safe, and I hope that by giving him that power, I’ll find that I can let go of my fear.

It’s almost contradictory, yet I believe with my whole being that his care and comfort will allow me to shed the unease and anxiety that have become my constant companions.

Declan slides the smooth green rope across my thighs first, the sensation sending a shiver through me. “Just getting you used to the feel of it,” he says, his tone low but smooth.

He does it once more, then he begins to work. He’s quiet, his focusset completely on the rope as he snakes it around my thigh. It’s not what I expected at all. From the moment he showed me that jute in his office, I’ve envisioned him tying my hands behind my back or above my head. I suppose that misconception goes along with what he mentioned about kinks.

As he works, the design becomes clearer: one rope, then another, woven in and out; the columns he creates; the gorgeous contrast of the dark green rope against my skin. When he reaches my waist, he looks up at me. “Do you trust me?”

I nod. “Completely.”

He asks that same question every few minutes as he continues to work. He reminds me I’m safe with him. Tests the pressure of each knot. Asks for my color. It’s always green. The sensation of the rope against my skin is decadent, comforting, tightening around me like one of his hugs. Especially when he leans over me, his breath against my neck, as he continues to create new designs. Connecting one rope to the next until I’m a kaleidoscope of colors and designs. Tied up and bound like an offering for him.

When he’s finished, he assesses me, his eyes swimming with pride and pleasure. The ever-present tension in his jaw and shoulders has subsided. It’s clear to me now, what he meant when he said this helps him focus and eases his anxiety. Helps him find his own control.

He holds out his hand. “Come with me.”

I slip my palm against his, surprised that I can move so easily, and stand. The ropes confine my body, not my movement. The restraint lends comfort without taking away any of my abilities.

Silently, he picks up the phone. Cade is quiet too. Both men are focused on me. On the way Declan is choreographing the interaction. He guides me to a mirror hanging on the wall near the dining room table and places the phone on the mantel so Cade still has a full view.

Stepping behind me, he cups my shoulders and meets my gaze in the mirror. “Do you see how beautiful you are?”

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