gave a curt nod then reached down to pick something up from the floor beside the sofa. It was the shirt I’d been wearing at work.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked, unable to help myself.
The look he gave me was full of a kind of quiet ferocity that had my breath catching. ‘You told me you trusted me, but you don’t. Do you?’
How could I lie to him? ‘With my body, of course I do.’
‘But not with anything else.’
He valued honesty, so that was what I gave him. ‘How can I? This will be over at some point and then I’ll have to go back to looking after myself. I can’t afford to rely on anyone, Xander. Surely you can understand that?’
‘I’m not anyone.’
‘I know, but the people I expected to look after me never did.’
‘So it’s easier to expect nothing? Is that what you’re trying to say?’
I lifted my chin. ‘I’m not leaving myself open to being kicked while I’m down. Been there, done that.’
He said nothing for a long moment. Then he held up the black fabric of my shirt. ‘See this? Do you know what it is?’
Was he kidding? ‘It’s my shirt.’
‘No. It’s a blindfold.’
My mouth went bone-dry. ‘It’s a...what?’
‘A blindfold,’ he repeated patiently. ‘You don’t trust me. But I want to prove to you that you can.’
Something was thudding very loudly in my ears.
‘You want me to put that on, presumably?’ I tried to sound like it wasn’t a big deal because, considering the rest of what we’d done, a blindfold wasn’t that kinky.
‘Yes. I want you to put that on.’
I stared at the black fabric, trepidation growing slowly in my gut. Being spanked was one thing—I could handle that, no problem. I liked it—no, I loved it. But having my sight taken away? That felt...different.
So? Say your word.
Saying ‘seven’ because I didn’t want to put on a blindfold? That was ridiculous. What could he do to me? I’d taken the pain that he gave me, taken the discipline and I’d revelled in it. A blindfold was nothing. Nothing. It wouldn’t change my opinion. Wouldn’t make me trust him any more, no matter what he thought.
I shrugged. ‘Fine. Put it on then.’
He didn’t hesitate, lifting the fabric and laying it across my face, reaching around to the back of my head and deftly pulling the ends tight.
The material was soft against my skin and little bits of light filtered through the gaps, but he soon adjusted it so there was nothing but blackness in front of me.
My heartbeat sped up, pounding uncomfortably loud.
‘Are you okay?’ His voice was right in front of me, centring me. ‘I’m not going to ask that again, by the way. I’m going to trust you to use your word if you need to. So if you’re not okay you need to tell me now.’
‘I’m okay.’ I was pleased that my voice sounded so steady.
‘Good. I’m going to move you now.’ His hands fell to my hips and he gripped me tight as I felt him shift underneath me.
Then I was being eased face-down onto the sofa, his hands gentle on my body as he manoeuvred me in place, laying me out so that I was lying full length on the cushions.
I turned my head so I could breathe, the blackness pressing against my eyes complete and total.
My palms felt damp and I could barely hear him over the sound of my raging heartbeat.
This was strange. Why was I feeling so exposed? I’d lain like this plenty of times without this fear and nervousness; he’d put his hand on my butt and spanked me and it had been so good.
So why was I afraid now? I didn’t understand.
I still had the blanket over me and I stiffened as I felt him pull it off, leaving me naked.
I shivered, air moving over my skin, raising goosebumps.
Nothing happened.
Everything was quiet except for the noise in my head and I strained to hear him, to figure out where he was, to get some idea of what was going to happen next. But he didn’t make a sound.
My mouth went even drier, my fingers curling into fists.
Say your word then, coward.
No. Fuck that. I wasn’t going to say it, not now. Not when all he’d done was put a blindfold on me. God. Maybe when he brought out the whips and chains and nipple clamps, then I might have something to say about it, but not now.
The sofa dipped and I nearly gasped at the unexpectedness of it.
Xander, kneeling over me. I could feel the wool of his suit trousers against the outside of my knees, the fabric scratchy.
The world shifted, my focus narrowing helplessly on where he was, struggling to get a sense of what he was doing.
He must be looking down at me because I recognised the pressure I sensed against my spine, the pressure of his black gaze.
Every millimetre of skin became exquisitely sensitive, as if I’d had the top layer removed, exposing all my nerve-endings. I felt the shift and eddy of the air over me, the intense heat of his knees bracketing mine. I was sure that if I concentrated hard enough, I could even feel the difference between the air of the apartment and his breath...
Gently his fingers brushed the length of my spine, a blowtorch on my skin.
I gasped, a shaken, frightened sound.
He reached the small of my back, rested there for a moment. Then he ran his fingers all the way back up again, a long, light stroke. Gentle. So achingly gentle.
I was shaking, I couldn’t help myself, his touch doing something to me, reaching into my chest, past my breastbone, wrapping those long, wicked, beautiful fingers around my heart and squeezing.
I hadn’t been touched with gentleness before. Not like this.
‘I think I told you the moment I realised I wanted you,’ he said, adding his voice to the touch of his fingers, darkness and smoke, black velvet and fire. ‘It was early one afternoon. Everyone had gone out and I thought you’d gone with them too. I came outside because I heard someone in the pool so I thought I’d better investigate.’ He stroked me gently, long and slow, up and down, his touch flames on my skin. ‘And there you were, in the water. I was going to go back inside and then I watched you pull yourself out and I realised you were naked. Completely and utterly naked.’ His touch changed, tracing the curve of my butt. ‘I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do anything
