Page 47 of Forbidden Vows

My gaze is drawn to the elaborate ceiling. Hammered silver tin shingles adorn the area, reflecting the light from the recessed can lighting warmly.

And what is hanging from that ceiling?

An elaborate black leather harness is suspended from wooden beams.

I hesitate on the threshold, a mix of curiosity and nervousness warring within me. I can’t believe this is real, that he’s showing me this place, that he evenhasa place like this. The air feels charged with possibilities, and my mind spins with nerves and excitement.

Can I do this?

He steps inside, pulling me gently behind him.

The door clicks...

Chapter Thirteen

Cleopatra

"You know what I want to do with you in here, don't you?" The hunger in his eyes makes my stomach flip-flop. I shake my head, not trusting my voice to speak.

A wicked smile plays on his lips as he walks around me, circling like a predator. "I want to see you squirm," he murmurs, leaning in to whisper. "I want to see you blush. I want to see you beg."

Before I can react, his hand comes down on my backside with a sharp smack, the sound reverberating through the room. I gasp, more from surprise than pain, my eyes wide as I glance back at him.

"Did you just...spank me?" I stammer, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I’ve followed all your rules.”

His grin widens, unapologetic and full of sin. "I warned you. I want to see you wiggle, Cutie. In here, an ass that gorgeous—it'll get you into all sorts of trouble."

I rub the spot where his hand struck. "And what if I like trouble?" I counter, lifting my chin defiantly.

His eyes flash with amusement and desire. "Then you're in the right place," he says, stepping closer until our bodies are mere inches apart. I can feel his breath on my skin, the heat radiating off him. He reaches up, tracing a fingertip along my jawline, neck, and collarbone. "So, tell me, Cutie," he murmurs, his finger pausing at the base of my throat. My pulse flutters like a trapped butterfly. "What's your safe word?"

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "My… Mywhat?"

His smile is slow and patient, and his finger resumes its lazy trail, tracing over the curve of my breast and luring my nipples to harden. "Your safe word. Something you'll say if you want everything to stop, no questions asked."

“Am I going to need one of those?” I squeak out.

“Yes.” I look into his eyes, dark and intense in the dim light. This is real. This is happening.

I take a deep breath, my mind racing for a safe word. Too many late nights watching Real Housewives with Seraphina and their non-scientific theory that a particular fruit makes your vagina sweet. "Pineapple," I blurt out, the word ridiculous and awkward in the charged silence.

He raises an eyebrow, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Pineapple it is," he agrees. "Now, let's see what kind of trouble you're looking for."

He takes his time, fingering the hem of my sweatshirt, lifting it over my arms as they reach up obediently to let him. He drags his hands over my bare waist, naked underthe cropped tee I had earlier chosen. I stand there, my breaths coming in short gasps, my body frozen yet alive with anticipation.

He removes the cropped tee, revealing the soft cotton bra and the curve of my breasts. His eyes never leave mine, not even as he pushes the bra straps over my shoulders. He leans down, his warm lips kissing my bare shoulder and neck.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, his hands at my waist, thumbs tracing circles on my bare skin. "But I think we can do better.” Guiding me by my waist, he turns me so I’m facing away from him. His hands rise to the clasp of my bra, unhooking it with practiced ease.

The bra falls away, the cool air tantalizing my hard nipples. His hands immediately replace the fabric, cupping my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples until they're even more taut and sensitive. I lean back into him, my body instinctively seeking more contact.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice a low rumble in my ear. "Give in to it, Cutie. Let me see what you've got."

His hands move lower, tracing the curve of my waist and the flare of my hips. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of my leggings, tugging them down slowly, revealing more and more skin. I step out of them, kicking them aside, left standing there, naked.

The dim light, the sexy room, the cool air, his warm skin, me bare to him, him still fully dressed, it’s overwhelming. He turns me back around, and with his hands gently holding my arms, his eyes roving over my body and takingin every detail. I fight the urge to cover myself and hide from his intense gaze, but I also crave his approval.

I want to experience that special feeling when he looks at me. It's not about being the most beautiful girl in the world—I know that’s not me—but he gazes at me like I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

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