Page 97 of The Sadist and the Brat

“I do,” she said, surprising him. “But we might have different definitions of ‘fine’.”

Amused, exhilarated by her easy declaration of trust, he dropped a kiss on her nose. “Oh, we absolutely do. Now be a good girl and get on the bed.”

Five minutes later, Sadie was finally starting to relax.

She’d been nervous at Nick and Rebecca’s—it had felt so much like a couple thing, being there together—and the nerves had stayed with her on the ride back from her apartment. But being on her knees with her wrists cuffed felt familiar, and comfortable.

Unlike all the strange and unsettlingfeelingsfluttering around inside her, she knew what to expect from this.

Determined to put the flutterings out of her mind, she focused on what he was doing. He’d buckled the cuffs into place and positioned her on the bed, and now he was tying a length of rope to the cuff on her left wrist, the other end of which was attached to an eyebolt she’d never noticed before.

“Was that always there?” she asked. “That eye bolt?”

He pulled steadily on the rope, stretching her arm out along the headboard. “Yes.”

“Was it visible?”

He tied off the rope and rounded the bed to the other side. “No.”

“Oh.” She looked closer, realizing that a whole square of wood was missing from the headboard. It was cherry wood, with dozens of intricately carved panels, each about eight inches square, and she’d assumed they were merely decorative. But now…

“Are all of these little panels hiding a hard point?”

“Some of them,” he said, threading rope through the cuff’s D-ring. “Some of them are hiding other things.”

She looked up at him. “Like what?”

“Terrible things,” he said with a sinister eyebrow wiggle, and stretched out her right arm before tying off the rope. Stepping back, he nodded. “That’ll do,” he decided and disappeared from view.

She could hear him rummaging around at the foot of the bed but didn’t turn to watch. She was too busy wondering just what all those wooden panels hid, and how she could find out.

“Before you think of snooping around my headboard,” he announced, “you should know it takes a special tool to remove the panels.”

“I wasn’t going to snoop,” she protested.

“If someone were to try to pry a panel open with anything else, like a screwdriver, it would be very noticeable.”

A screwdriver was a terrible idea, she thought. The panels were fitted too tight for that. But a butter knife might do, or one of those thin metal nail files.

“I mention this only because I think you should be aware,” he went on casually, “that if any damage is done to my headboard, you can expect similar damage to your ass.”

She huffed out an affronted breath. “I’m not sure why you’re telling me this. I have absolutely no interest in your wood.”

“Well, that is a disappointment,” he said with a chuckle, and she realized what she’d said.

“You know what I meant,” she said, turning her head to the right to try to see him.

“I know,” he said, his voice in her left ear, and she jolted. “You’re jumpy.”

“A little,” she admitted, knowing a lie would only draw more attention to her nerves.

He drew his hands up her back, slowly, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “Why?”

Maybe just a little lie.“I’m not sure,” she breathed, shivering when he delved his hands into her hair. “I guess I’m just edgy.”

“Hmmm. Maybe you’ve had too much time to think.”

He was massaging her scalp, and it felt good. Really good. “Maybe.”

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