Page 230 of Those Who Are Bound

Of course, Jonah was athletic. “Where do you want me to fuck you?”

Elliott laughed. Just as agile, she also leaped onto the stage. “That’s not how this is going to go.” Looking around, she spied what she wanted: a gold cord. It would serve well enough as rope.

She side-eyed Jonah as she went to the table and picked it up. Turning, she held it up. “I’m fucking you.”

Fucking with, to be more accurate.

Another look that could have been interpreted as amusement crossed his face. He asked, “You’re tyingmeup?”

Elliott nodded.

Now a smile did peek out. “Kitten, you aren’t a dominant.”

She glowered.

“I don’t mean it as a challenge; it’s a fact. I’ve been in bed with you.”

She took it as a challenge—itwasa challenge. Walking up to him, she placed a hand on his chest. Heat radiated from him; his strength coursed through her. She’d always enjoyed playing with the other men, but she was going to relish Jonah.

Her skin should be sizzling, or the ground should be shaking… or did she have vampires and sinners confused?

“Where do you want me?” he asked.

Elliott considered him for a moment. He was regarding her as though he knew her; could predict her. As though he was in control, letting her think she had the upper hand. Running her gaze over his relaxed—somewhatrelaxed, he was semi-erect—body, she realized that he probably did feel a certain level of ease.

This was, after all, his sanctuary.

It wasn’t so funny now.

She looked at him meaningfully, making sure she had his full attention. He sobered, frowning, trying to read her intentions. And she shifted her gaze behind him for a full second before returning to him.

Any amusement fled. He knew what she’d looked at; he understood. His eyelashes fluttered in a moment of disbelief; he may have lost a touch of color. Because behind him was a large wooden cross.

Elliott cocked her head, waiting for him to object, to declare blasphemy, or whatever else. Instead, all he said was, “Going for the obvious.”

She merely smiled and held up the cord. “One cord, so I’m limited regarding the imagery. Maybe next time we can have the full effect.”

Jonah turned and considered the cross. After a second, he nodded once. “I don’t understand why you need this, but I’ll give you what you want.” He walked up to it, placing his hand on the wood.

Elliott watched him tilt his head to take in the crossbeam. He wasn’t considering the construction, however. To her, it looked more like… praying. Asking forgiveness? For which one of them?

Irritated, she approached him. Jonah’s ass was as much a work of art as his cock. But she reached down and traced the scars on his thigh from his bike accident. He turned and looked at her.

She was taken aback by the look in his eyes—more by what wasn’t there than by what was. He wasn’t looking at her with judgment or disdain. He was confused; curious, even. But he was, as he’d said, willing to do what she asked.

Sacrificing himself for her.

Raising up on her toes, she placed a soft kiss on his lips. He automatically and eagerly responded. Of course he did, because he couldn’t fathom the sinful things running through her mind.

She tossed one end of the cord over an arm of the cross.

You can’t come back from this.

You weren’t going to anyway.

She faltered.

Jonah shook his head, perceptive as ever. “Whoever you think you might have been, Elliott, it doesn’t define you.”

---