Page 48 of Jax
“I could demonstrate,” he said. “Not a full tie. Not a scene. Just… sensory input. A method for reconnecting with your body, if that’s something you’re open to.”
My whole body tensed at the offer. Not because I was afraid of him, but because I had no idea what to expect. I’d never been around kinky stuff like this in my life, and it was a bit overwhelming. I’d have been lying if I’d said I wasn’t a tiny bit curious, though.
His tone remained soft. Measured. “You’d be in control the entire time. I’ll explain everything in advance, before initiating any physical contact. And if you change your mind, we stop immediately.”
It wasn’t a line. It wasn’t a dare. It was an offering. One without strings, except, of course, the ones he held in his hands.
“I…” I swallowed, throat tight. “Yeah. Okay. Just to see.”
“Good.” He nodded once, his voice like low percussion, steady enough to ground a melody. “We’ll start slow. And we’ll stop slower.”
I watched him uncoil the rope in his lap, his hands deliberate and sure. There was something ritualistic in the way he handled it, like it deserved respect.
“You keep tracking the movement in my hands,” he said, not looking up. “That kind of focused attention usually correlates with unspoken cognitive processing. You’re trying to formulate a question.”
I blinked. “Do you always read people this well?”
He looked at me then, gaze sharp but not unkind. “Not always. But your body language is basically shouting at me.”
I hesitated. Then asked the thing I hadn’t wanted to put words to. “Have you ever tied someone who panicked?”
“Yes,” he said. No hesitation. “More than once.”
“And?”
“I untied them as quickly as I could. Sat with them until they felt safe. Then I usually made them peppermint tea.”
That caught me off guard enough to draw out a surprised breath. “Tea?”
“I find that it has a calming effect on the nervous system. Helps bring the body down gently.”
“Of course you know that,” I muttered, not quite rolling my eyes.
His mouth tilted, amused now. “Of course.” Then quieter, steady. “I won’t push you. Not now. Not ever.”
Something in me released. Not completely. But enough.
He spread the rope across his lap, flattening the fibers with the backs of his knuckles. “You'll feel every step. No surprises.”
I nodded. Once, then again, softer. “Okay.”
That word felt heavier than it should have. But it was mine.
He didn’t crowd me. He never did. Every move was deliberate, telegraphed, slow enough I could have stopped it with a breath. I didn’t. I wanted to prove to him, to myself, that I could do this.
The first loop brushed across my forearm, light as air, but my body reacted like it was iron. My chest seized. Heat flared sharply under my skin. I told myself it was just rope. Just fiber. Just touch. But the moment it circled a second time, the air fractured.
The cedar walls blurred. The floor dropped. Suddenly it wasn’t Jax’s hands anymore; it was theirs. Rough, faceless, unrelenting men who had jumped me without warning and bundled me into a van without windows. The scrape of jute turned to the bite of plastic cuffs. The room filled with dampconcrete, mildew, chains clinking in the dark. My pulse detonated in my throat.
“Breathe,” Jax said softly, steady as bedrock.
But I couldn’t. My lungs locked. Panic roared up from the basement of my memory and drowned me. My fingers clenched the ripcord so hard the loop burned against my skin, and before the scream could claw its way out, I yanked.
Everything stopped. Instantly.
The rope fell away like it had never been there, and his hands were gone so fast it stunned me. No hesitation. No argument. Just release.
My body curled in on itself before I could stop it, arms folding over the places that had been touched as if I could erase the ghost of it. I shook so hard my teeth hurt. Breath came shallow and useless.
