Page 124 of The Owner's Temptation

They lock in with a heavy click.

It’s not lost on me that I’ve been here before. Not physically. But that first night at the Masquerade—when I walked in and saw the woman bound to the cross, body arched in ecstasy—I wanted it.

I wanted this.

And now, I’m here.

I smile, breathless and nervous and buzzing with adrenaline.

I fix the blindfold around my head, not quite on just yet.

Reaching up, I slide one wrist into the cuff. When I pull it, the strap cinches tight. My heart races as I look at the other cuff still hanging loose. I know once I slide my wrist into it, I’m locked in. Exposed. At his mercy.

And yet, I don’t hesitate.

Pulling the blind over my eyes, the room is instantly dark. I slide my hand into the cuff and give myself to him.

The click of the clasp making me flinch. So final. Ominous.

I’m spread open and strapped to the Devil’s cross.

And all I can do now… is wait.

She’s here.

Even before I step inside, I can feel her. That electric pull humming in the air, thick and charged, like the moment before a lightning strike.

I kill the engine at the top of the empty driveway, needing the silence to think—but who the fuck am I kidding?

I’ve done nothing but think about her since I shoved her out of the Masquerade with security and told them to bring her here. Told them not to let her leave.

She was never going to.

But a kernel of doubt lingers. That small chance she took the offer and ran but what stops me dead in my tracks is what’s waiting for me on the doorknob.

Her panties.

Black lace. Damp. Still warm from her body and smelling sweet as sin itself.

I take them in my hand and clench them in my fist.

She chose me.

No excuses. No confusion.

She knew exactly what I asked of her.

And she said yes.

The moment I step inside, I feel her presence like gravity. Every room is quiet, still, steeped in that delicious tension of what’s about to happen. I don’t call out. I don’t need to.

Because I know where she is.

I head down the hallway, past the kitchen, toward the room at the end—the one with soundproof walls, a reinforced door, and every temptation a man like me has no business indulging in.

And when I open that door?

Fuck.

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