“Because I’m not ready to give you what you gave me. I’m not ready to tell you the things you want to know, and to be honest, I may never be.”
I can always get it out of Apple.
But I know I won’t. I won’t betray Braden. I love him and respect him too much.
I strip off my shirt and bra and walk naked into his arms. I kiss his lips softly. “It’s okay. I want to be with you. Sure, I wish you’d be honest with me about those things in your past, but if I have to choose between you and knowing about you and Addie, I choose you.”
“You’re a stronger person than I am,” he says.
“I doubt that.”
“You are. I gave you a challenge, and you ran with it. You figured yourself out even though it was difficult and it caused you pain.”
“I’m far from having myself all figured out,” I say. “Like I said, it’s a journey, and the journey is what’s important.”
“I agree. And I want to give you something.”
“The truth about you and Addie?” I raise my eyebrows, hoping.
“No. That I can’t do. But I want to tell you a little more about my mother.”
I look down at my bare breasts. “Now?”
He pulls something out of his pocket. “Maybe after dessert.”
A flash of red. Then a flash of black. “What are those?” I ask.
He holds up two pieces of fabric, each red on one side and black on the other. “Restraints,” he says. “Silk restraints.”
“And you just happen to have those lying around in your pocket.”
“Have you ever known me not to come prepared?” His voice holds a touch of amusement, but his expression remains stoic. This is dark Braden. The Braden I first fell in love with.
My nipples harden in an instant, as if a chilly wind is blowing over them.
“Silk isn’t the best material for restraining someone,” he continues. “It can get knotted tightly and is sometimes difficult to release. Fortunately, I’m experienced enough that it doesn’t pose a problem.”
I shudder. For the first time, his talk of experience doesn’t arouse jealousy in me. No, no jealousy. Only desire. I want that silk touching my body, binding me.
I look around. Where will he bind me? I have a headboard, but unlike his, it’s not built for bondage.
“To answer your question—”
“What question?” I interrupt.
“I see you glancing around. Wondering what I’m going to do to you with these restraints. You’ve underestimated me, Skye. Remember that evening when you turned off your phone so you wouldn’t get my email?”
I nod. Not my finest moment.
“I had some time here alone, and I looked around this place.” He glances to the hanging planter in my kitchen. “That hook is secured by a molly bolt. It can support at least fifty pounds.”
“I appreciate the compliment, but I weigh a lot more than that.” I give him what I hope is a teasing smile.
“That doesn’t matter, because your feet will be on the ground. The hook will simply hold your bound wrists above your head. All I need is to slide your table to the right slightly.”
The table still holds some of our dinner dishes, but with a flourish he slides it over without so much as jarring them.
“Your ceilings are low as well.” He steps on a chair and grabs the hanging plant, setting it gently on the table. “Where’s that crème brûlée?”
“In the fridge, but I have to do the topping.”
“Not tonight. Tonight I want only the cream.” He raises an eyebrow. “Though I know it won’t be as delicious as your cream.”
I squirm, squeezing my thighs together. My nipples are so hard they may pop off.
“Hold out your wrists.”
I obey. He wraps the bindings around them in an intricate pattern, securing me tightly but not so tight as to be uncomfortable. Two strips of silk—a little over two feet long, by my estimation—hang from my wrists, presumably to secure me to the hook in the ceiling.
“Don’t you need to measure?” I ask.
He shakes his head and then meets my gaze. “I never miss.”
My body throbs with anticipation as Braden steps on the chair once more and secures the other ends of the restraints to the hook.
“Good?” he asks.
I have a little slack, and my feet are flat on the floor, about fifteen inches apart, so I guess that’s good. “Yeah. Good.”
He moves the chair out of the way. “You’re going to stand there, Skye. You’re going to stand there quietly. No talking. And you’re going to take what I dish out.”
Chapter Thirty-One
He walks around me until he’s out of my vision.
“Oh!” I squeal as his palm comes down on my ass.
“No talking!” He slaps me harder this time.
I press my lips together to keep from squealing again.
“You have the most beautiful ass, Skye. I still haven’t had the pleasure of fucking it.”
Right. That night. We were supposed to…
“Not tonight,” he says.
Disappointment flows through me.
“Soon,” he continues, “but not tonight.”
He picks up the dish of crème brûlée that he set on the table previously. He sticks his finger into the cream, swirls it around, and then holds it to my lips. “Taste.”
I lick his finger clean, letting the lushness of the dessert sit on my tongue before I swallow.
He twirls his finger in the cream again, and this time he tastes it. A low growl rises from his chest.
I’m on fire. The image of Braden sucking crème brûlée off his thick finger has me ready to burst. My nipples strain, and I instinctively pull against my bindings.
“Don’t,” he says. “Don’t resist. You’re mine, bound and ready for my pleasure.”
I nod.
Into the cream goes his finger once more, but this time he smears it over one of my nipples. The heat of my skin melts the thick cream, and it dribbles down over my large breast.
Braden’s eyes smolder. “You look so enticing.”
Please lick it off. Please.
Instead, he smears the other nipple with cream as well, and soon it’s melting down my abdomen, heading toward my throbbing pussy.