"Indie—"
"I know what I'm asking." Her eyelids flutter closed for a moment. Then they blink open. Find mine. "I know this is what ruined your engagement. Even if you can't admit it to yourself."
"I—"
"Maybe it was more complicated than that. Maybe there were other things. But I know… you couldn't accept this part of yourself. And you tried to tell yourself it wasn't there. You tried to stay with a nice girl who wanted nice things."
"I loved her."
"But it still destroyed you." She swallows hard. "I know, asking for this—I might be the one pushing you too far."
"Indie—"
"But I have to." She releases my wrist. "I'm not a nice girl. I don't want nice things. And I don't want a nice man. Not here."
I bring my hand to her hip.
"Please, Ty. It doesn't have to be now. If you'll only do this when I'm sober… that's fair. And I accept those terms." She smiles. "But warn me before I drink next time."
A laugh spills from my lips. "You'd have stayed sober?"
"Maybe. I was nervous to meet your brother. He's your idol."
How does she make these things I can barely admit sound so fucking obvious?
"You're the only one who gets this part of me. Whatever else happens between us, you're the only one who understands." She places her palm on my chest. Digs her fingers into the fabric of my shirt. "You're the only one I trust."
"You trust me with your body?"
"Yes."
"Completely?"
"Completely."
My head swims. It's everything I want. Maybe the only thing I want.
"Please. It doesn't have to be right now, but please, I'll give you that part of me. Let me have that part of you. All of it."
"Indie—"
"Is that a yes?" Her eyes meet mine. "Will you do it? Will you promise to tell me the things you want? Even when they scare you?"
Chapter Forty
Ty
"Yes." It's heavy in my chest, but it floats the second it hits the air.
"Everything?" Her eyes stay glued to mine. "Always."
"I'll try."
She holds out her hand. "Me too."
"Will it always take half a bottle of bourbon?"
She smiles. "Only sometimes."
I meet her. Shake.
It's a simple touch. Nothing compared to unzipping her jumpsuit. But it still fans the fire.
I need to touch her.
I need to fuck her.
I need to be the center of her universe.
"Tomorrow," I say. "We'll do the scene tomorrow."
She pouts.
"Would you rather we not do it?"
"You wouldn't."
"Try me."
Her eyes fill with fire. Defiance. Need.
The exact combination that makes my cock stir. "Tomorrow. Understand?"
She nods.
"Good girl."
Her lips part with a sigh. Her chest heaves with her inhale.
It's her favorite pet name. The one that makes her pant the fastest.
It's cruel to drop it if I'm not going to fuck her. But she was right. I am mean.
And this is the best kind of torture.
"I'm not going to warn you," I say.
"You'll surprise me."
"Yes."
Her flush deepens. "Overpower me?"
"If I tell you, it's not a surprise."
"Yes, but I… I want to know what you expect from me."
"To use your safe word if it's too much."
"That's all?"
No. It's much more complicated, but it's my job to worry about that. "I might gag you."
"Oh."
"If I do, and it's too much, hum. Pick something now. So I'll know to recognize it."
"Hum. Okay." She presses her lips together. Looks off in the distance. Drifting into the Indigo I haven't seen in years—the one lost in song.
She hums a single tone.
Shapes it into the melody of When Doves Cry.
It's bizarre, my fiancée in the middle of the living room, in only a harness, humming Prince.
Bizarre and perfect.
"Is there anything else I need to know?" She places her hand on my chest.
"No." There's plenty she wants to know, but she needs the surprise.
"Are we done… preparing."
"Are you going to ask me to fuck you?"
"Maybe." Her lips curl into a shy smile. "Will it help? If I get on my knees and beg?"
"No."
"Maybe I should do it anyway."
"Maybe."
She stares back at me, daring me to expand. When I don't, she drops to her knees and presses her palms together. "Please, Ty, please fuck me."
My body whines. It's without reservations. "Why?"
"Because I'm your fiancée. And you're the kind of man who will satisfy his wife."
Wife. It steals my thoughts.
My head is a fucked-up mess.
This is the only thing that makes sense.
The only place where we make sense.
Marrying for convenience and fantastic sex. Those are better reasons than most.
"Please." She runs her fingertips over my belt. "If you won't fuck me, then let me suck you off."
"Did that work last time?"
"No. But I wasn't here. To do this." She hooks two fingers in my belt loop. "It might work better with the demonstration."
Fuck, she's adorable. It's wrong how adorable she is asking to suck my cock.
I offer her my hand.
She looks up at me with incredulity in her eyes.
"Trust me."
"Trust you?"
"Have I ever let you down here?"
"No. Not here."
"So trust me," I say.
She takes my hand.
I pull her to her feet. Then I wrap my arms around her waist. Lift her.
She squeals as I throw her over my shoulder. "Ty." She laughs. "You're crazy."
"I am." I carry her to the bedroom. Lay her on the bed.
She looks up at me with a hazy smile as I attach the under-the-bed restraints to the hook between her breasts.
Then I pry her legs apart, and her smile fades into a groan.
She wants roughness. Maybe I should give it to her. Even if she's had far too much to drink.
But I want this.
I climb between her legs. Bring my mouth to her cunt. Work her until she's groaning my name.
Until she comes on my face.
I pin her thighs to the bed, holding her in place as I work her through her orgasm.
Then another.
Her legs go slack. Her entire body releases.
She sinks into the bed. Looks up at me with those same hazy eyes. Satisfied, yet still in need.
She's so fucking beautiful like this.
I strip out of my suit. Place my body over hers.
She groans as I fill her with steady thrusts.
I'm in control. She's bound. But it's not rough or hard or fast.