Page 32 of Power
“I’m wearing heels and a skirt,” I reminded him. “Apencilskirt. I’d have to hitch it up high as hell to fit on the bike, so I’d probably flash the entire city.”
His mouth kicked up. “I’ll give you a pair of sweatpants to wear.”Wouldn’t fit, I’m sure.“We can stop by your place to change.”
Well, I mean … I guess that worked. “Okay …”
“So, where are we going?”
I grinned, already picturing his reaction. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Immensely.” I started gathering my clothes.
He caught my wrist as I passed, pulling me in for a kiss that made me second-guess ever leaving this hotel room. “But be warned, I have ways of making you talk.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?” I started backing away playfully.
“Both.”
Don’t fall for him, don’t fall for him, don’t fall for him …
“You can take me on your mysterious errand,” he said. “But before we leave, I want one more thing …”
15
SCARLETT
Jace slid a silky tie from where it had been thrown over the chair. A tie, I noted. So, he was definitely a professional of some kind who wore a suit. When he approached me with that tie, I knew what he wanted, and instantly, my mouth went dry.
I took a step back.
He froze.
It was strange, to have this visceral of a reaction to something so playful. I mean, earlier, I’d done things with Jace that gave him control, let him take me in a way I’d never been taken before, and through it all, he’d been more thoughtful of my wants and feelings than any guy I’d been with. And yet, even with him, this was next-level trust …
“I won’t be tied up.” The words came out more panicked than I wanted them to, but I would never surrender to a man like that. Never.
Jace went still, cocking his head. “I was going to suggest blindfolding you. You know, for fun.” His voice was gentle, but something in his expression shifted as he watched me.
I took another step back, shaking my head. “No.”
“I’m not into BDSM,” he assured. “I don’t normally do this.”
Yeah, don’t care.
“Well, being helpless and at the mercy of a man isn’t my thing.”
He didn’t look offended. If anything, the slight arching of his brows suggested curiosity, like he’d noticed my reaction and knew it meant something deep.
“Okay,” he said simply and turned to toss the tie back onto the chair.
But mid-turn, he froze. The muscles in his back tensed, and when he pivoted back to face me, his eyes studied me. With a calculated movement that spoke of confidence no man should rightfully possess, he raised the tie to his own eyes and secured it with a knot behind his head.
“What are you doing?” I wondered aloud.
He finished securing it and stood there, hands at his sides, palms out. “You don’t want to give control to me,” he realized aloud. “So, how about I give it to you?”
Somehow, he had the confidence to take a couple steps forward, guided by memory or maybe the sliver of light at the bottom of the blindfold. His hand found my hip, his touch sure despite his covered eyes.
