The Obsession (Filthy Rich Americans 2) - Page 61

My breath caught. He was saying I’d be free. Not from his house or his control, but at least from his interference with my relationship with Royce.

His hands crept inward, drifting up my neck until my face was trapped between both of his palms, ensuring there was no escape from his hypnotic eyes. He was so close, his warm breath rolled over my skin. It slid down my neck and caressed the bare skin it found between the lapels of the jacket.

“I understand your reluctance. I believe I can make it easier on you.”

“How?”

He took one hand off my face, and it glided down my front so it could delve inside the jacket. I flinched at his cold fingers, but he wasn’t attempting to touch me. He was only trying to reach into the interior pocket. The red tie spilled out into his hand.

“You want to blindfold me again?” I both did and didn’t like the idea. On one hand, I wouldn’t be able to see him, which might give me the chance to pretend he was someone else. But on the other, I worried about giving up that much control.

“No,” he said. His eyes were cryptic, his thoughts hidden too far behind them. “I’ll show you, but I’ll have to remove my coat you’re wearing.”

I bit my bottom lip. It was hot under the coat, and the silk lining clung to my sweat-dampened skin, but it was far easier to stand before him with it on than completely naked. When I didn’t say no right away, he must have taken that as a yes, because he hooked his fingers under the neck and eased it down. The coat fell in a jerky cascade, catching for a moment on my elbows before falling to the stones at our feet.

His tone was soft but direct. “Give me your wrists.”

My blood turned to slush, making it impossible to move.

“If you do this, it’s the only thing you have to give tonight. Everything else I will take.” I didn’t understand what he meant. He slowly blinked his deep and intense eyes. “If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop. But I am persistent and patient, and I won’t give up until I have what I want. What I’m suggesting is the illusion of giving up control.”

It would be just like the hands that had held me during the initiation. All I had to do was say the word, and I’d be released. Even more, with my arms bound in front of me, I’d still have the option to push him away or run. He was offering a false ‘out’ for my mind. A way to lie to myself so I could let it happen.

“Surrender your hands,” he said, “and then tell yourself you had no choice.”

I closed my eyes, knowing what he’d said was true. He was a man who wasn’t denied anything, so he wouldn’t give up until he’d had his two minutes with me. Perhaps I shouldn’t have traded them away in the first place.

Macalister was . . . inevitable.

I lifted my hands, my entire body trembling, and heard his quiet, pleased sigh.

The silk draped over my wrists then cinched them together. My eyes fluttered open as the second knot was looped and pulled tight.

And then it was done. My hands were bound, and I’d submitted to him. Dark satisfaction streaked through his expression. Now he’d take what he wanted.

As he’d warned me, it started with his hands. He set his cool palms on my shoulders and glided them down my arms, his fingers flowing like water. His touch was meant to be sensual, and my body tried to like it, but my mind refused.

He commanded it in a hushed but powerful voice. “Look at me.”

I’d been staring off into nothingness, not seeing the fountain or the hedges, and avoiding him. My reluctant gaze shifted his direction, working slowly up along his fitted white dress shirt until I reached his face.

His expression was the same one he’d shown me only a handful of times. It was full of shameless desire. He looked at me like a king surveying his new bride.

“Some part of you wanted to lose,” he said, just loud enough to be heard over the dripping fountain. “You secretly hoped this would happen.”

“No,” I blurted. It came from me in such a rush, to him it probably sounded forced. Like I was overcompensating, but what he’d said wasn’t true at all.

Right?

His half-smile said he didn’t believe me.

His hands were firm but not rough as I was turned to face the fountain. Its steadily flowing water was hypnotic, and I fell into a kind of trance as I stood on the path and endured Macalister’s reverent caresses. He gathered my hair in his hands and pushed it gently over my shoulder, exposing every inch of my back to him. It was his favorite part on a woman’s body, he’d said.

Tags: Nikki Sloane Filthy Rich Americans Billionaire Romance
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