Page 19 of Bind Me, Sir

I reached out and grasped her arm as she thought to hurry past me. “Don’t go,” I murmured while calling myself an ass in my head.

Her breath caught, and she lifted her focus from my grip on her arm to my lips. The tip of her tongue darted out to touch her own lower one, and my gaze strayed to the pulse jumping in her neck.

My dominance turned her on—exactly as I’d thought. “My apologies,” I murmured easing my hold on her arm—but not releasing her. “Personal questions tend to put me on the defensive.”

“Understandably so,” she whispered, her voice breathless. “I didn’t mean to pry. I-I was just trying to make pleasant conversation, is all.”

“Please sit. I’ll try to not be such a reactionary ass,” I said, finally sliding my fingers off the satiny skin of her forearm.

“Okay.” She sat once more, her purse clutched on her lap like a shield.

I motioned toward her plate, and like a good little sub, she obeyed, taking a small bite of the half-eaten Danish. “My parents had already decided to leave England for their home in Greece when Adam laid his proposition before me, so I didn’t really leave my family behind.”

Her smile wobbled. “I hadn’t known.” She held eye contact—and I knew she didn’t lie.

“I’m an only child, for which I’m thankful.”

Her head tipped to the side. “You never wanted a brother? A little sister who doted on you?”

I shrugged. “I enjoyed having my parents all to myself. Unlike some titled families, my parents raised me themselves with no help from nannies. I had private tutors rather than boarding schools. We took family vacations around the world—together because they wished it that way.”

“You were very blessed,” she said, finally easing back in her seat. “What was your favorite country?”

I relaxed as well and regaled her with tales of my travels as she finished her Danish—and we both enjoyed a second cup of coffee. Twice, her gaze roamed to the church out the window, both times jerking her attention back as though embarrassed by her curiosity.

“It’s a beautiful old building, isn’t it?” I asked the third time she glanced that way.

She gulped and focused on folding her napkin on the empty plate in front of her.

“Do you know what’s inside?” I pushed when she didn’t reply.

“Yes,” she whispered, fidgeting in her chair.

“Have you seen the interior for yourself?” I couldn’t help but ask, flushing her luscious cleavage clear to her hairline.

“Yes,” she whispered as though apologizing.

“Tell me—” I leaned forward once more, hoping to catch a whiff of her sweet, flowery perfume “—what was your favorite part?”

Eyes wide, she stared at me.

I raised my eyebrow rather than question her again.

“The altar,” she finally answered, the words barely reaching my ears—and swelling my cock.

“One originally intended for worshiping God.” I flicked my gaze down over her flushed face to rest on her full lips. Lips I imagined—and wanted—wrapped around my cock. Perhaps a bit of play would be good for both of us—if I didn’t cross any lines that might cause emotions to get involved on her part.

“Have you ever enjoyed a man’s worship, Natalie?” I asked her, my voice low and full of suggestion.

Her lips parted on a quick intake of air, her chest heaving upward. I lifted my focus to her eyes.

Luminous in the morning light streaming through the windows, they held a slew of emotions I wished to sift through, the main one being the type of arousal that couldn’t be denied, the type of desire that stiffened my cock to the point of pain.

I found myself smirking even though a part of me hollered I teased with danger. “Would you allow a man to worship you in such a way?”

Chapter Ten

Natalie

---