Page 25 of Dysfunctional

I nod, my heart racing.

He squeezes my cheeks, yanking upwards and forcing me to my feet. “I’m not going to kill you, Kas. Not until I havereasonto,” he snarls. “Don’t give me a reason, okay?”

I dip my chin in acknowledgment, but it’s not enough. He arches a brow and waits.

“Okay.”

“Why did you take me to a kink club tonight?” he asks, reaching behind him.

“I uh…”

“Don’t lie.”

“I hoped it would move things along for us.”

“How so?”

“Exactly how it happened.”

He thinks for a second. “You orchestrated me finding you with that man.”

“If you showed even the slightest bit of jealousy, I knew you were interested.”

His arm comes out from behind his back, and in it, a knife. “You play too many games, and you’re untrustworthy.”

I eye the weapon in his hand. “And you’re trustworthy?”

“No. That’s why this thing between us could never be anything. We probably aren’t even suitable for friendship.”

“But?”

“But.” He brings the tip of the knife to the center of my button up, the blade pricking my skin. “I’m still intrigued.”

“Intrigued by what?” I ask.

He slides the knife inside my shirt before slowly dragging it down, cutting the strings from the buttons and allowing it to open up.

“You. I don’t know nearly enough yet, and even though every instinct in me is saying I should stay away from you, I find myself interested in the challenge of dealing with you.”

My lips curl into a crooked smirk. “Romantic.”

His face goes blank and he gestures to the bed with the knife. “Lay down.”

I’m quick to listen, discarding my ruined shirt in the process. When I’m settled on my back, head resting between the two pillows on my queen-size bed, he makes his way over.

“Arms up.” From his back pocket, he removes two of the large zip ties I had in my kitchen drawer.

“Are you kidding?”

“No.”

I lift my arms to the brass bars at the headboard, studying him as he secures my wrists. “I don’t feel very safe. You could kill me pretty easily.”

“I could kill you pretty easily even if you weren’t tied to the bed.”

“I know you don’t have any experience with men, but I promise I could make you feel really good if I had use of my hands.”

“I don’t need your hands,” he says, dropping the knife to the mattress before kicking off his shoes and removing his pants. “And you don't know about my experience with anything.”

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