“You sure did,” I said, then used my teeth to tug off the gloves. I drew in a breath. “Trust has to be mutual. You don’t trust because she betrayed you. But she didn’t trust you, either. She didn’t believe you knew how to handle yourself.
“I don’t trust easily, either,” I said as I uncoiled the tape around my hands. “But I trust you, Tyler. I may not agree with what you do, but I trust you.”
“I trust you, too,” Tyler said. “I do. Despite my very royal fuckup.”
“I know you do,” I said. “I love you, Tyler.” I handed him the tape. I wanted him to really know, to truly understand, how deeply I meant those words. “I love you, and I trust you.”
He cocked his head, obviously unsure. “Sloane. Are you sure?”
“I want it,” I said. “All these years, it’s been in my head. He tied her up. He hurt her. I don’t want that there anymore. I want you. Bind me, Tyler. Bind me, and make love to me, and make the bad stuff go away.”
He scooped me up as if I weighed nothing at all, then carried me to the bedroom and gently laid me on the bed. He got on beside me, then leaned over and kissed me. Soft and gentle at first, and then harder, until the kiss was almost a punishment.
“I want you,” he said. “I need you.”
“I know.” I tightened my arms around him, clutching him tight, wanting more of his kisses, deeper and hotter. “I need you, too.”
“I was afraid, you know. For a moment I was afraid that I’d fucked up beyond repair. That I’d lost you.”
“Never,” I said, and my voice trembled with the truth of it.
Slowly, he peeled off the sports bra, then took my breast in his mouth, one and then the other, suckling each until I felt those sparking threads of sensation shoot all the way from my breasts to my sex. I arched up, wanting more. More of him. Of his touch, of everything.
“Sit up,” he said. “And scoot back.”
I did, and ended up sitting upright against a pillow that Tyler had placed against the wrought-iron headboard.
“Cross your wrists around one of the bars,” he said.
I hesitated. I’d imagined he’d tie me down, arms out to the side.
“It’s okay,” he said, as if understanding my hesitation. “You’ll like it. We both will.”
I nodded, then complied. I breathed deep, as if that would keep the ghosts at bay.
“Are you doing okay?” Tyler asked once my hands were secured behind me.
“Yeah,” I said, surprised by the truth of the words. I tilted my head up for a kiss. “So far, I’m doing fine. More than fine,” I added, because the truth was I was getting excited. Knowing I was going to be bound. Taken. Knowing that I was about to surrender totally, to submit completely.
I should be terrified. Should be writhing in a desperate attempt to get free.
Should be kicking Tyler in the balls.
But I wasn’t. Just the opposite. Instead, I was looking forward to what came next with potent anticipation. And all because I trusted this man.
He turned away from me, then opened a drawer at the bottom of the dresser. When he came back, he held two coils of red rope.
I frowned. “I’m not sure if I should be glad you’re experienced at this or irritated that I’m not the first woman you’ve done this to.”
He sat beside me, then kissed me gently while his fingers played with my breasts. It was an intimate, casual moment, and reminded me again that right now, more than before, I was truly his to do with as he wished.
“You are the first,” he said, his voice low and full of meaning. “The first. And the only.”
“Tyler—”
“I know,” he said. “I know it can’t last. You’ve made it clear, and I get it. But that doesn’t change the truth. I love you, Sloane,” he said as he eased my leggings off. “And that will never change. Now,” he said, with a quick change in tone. “Bring your knees to your chest.”