Gentleman Sinner

Welcome home x‘Aww.’ Jess slaps a hand over her heart, coming over all dreamy. ‘For such a fuck-off big, scary thing, he’s quite romantic.’

I smile down at the box, curious and still very apprehensive. ‘What do you think it could be?’ I ask, still avoiding diving in and ripping it open.

‘Oh, wait,’ she says, and I look up to see her eyes closed, her fingers at her temples. And she’s humming.

I reach over and slap her shoulder. ‘All right, smart arse.’

‘Open it.’ Jess pokes the box over to me again, and I load my lungs with air and start pulling the pretty bow free until it pools around the box. Flicking my eyes up to Jess, I smile when she encourages me on with an impatient look. I pull off the lid and peek inside, finding a note atop a pile of satin. I take the note and unfold it, reading the lines Theo has written:I’ve missed you terribly.

Understand it?

Me neither.

I hope you accept graciously.Theo xMy damn heart melts in my chest as Jess plucks the note from my hand and gushes all over the table, oohing and ahhing, her hand back on her chest.

‘Oh my goodness.’ She sighs, watching as I reach inside the box, smiling like crazy. ‘That face.’ She points at my reddening cheeks. ‘Jesus, Izzy, you’re fucking glowing.’

‘We’ve just got off the plane from Vegas,’ I point out in a silly defence tactic that has my friend laughing her socks off. She has every right to. I’m well and truly buzzing with the knowledge that he’s missed me, my veins warming as they pump blood to my pounding heart. I take out the satin-wrapped parcel, lay it on the table, and begin to pull each corner out until the sheet of luxury fabric is laid flat on the table, revealing . . .

‘What the hell is that?’ Jess asks, leaning in closely.

I’m damned if I know. Cocking my head, suddenly afraid to touch the unknown object, I try to fathom what it is exactly we’re looking at. I figure out there’s a cuff of some sort, lined with . . .

‘Is that velvet?’ Jess reaches forward and runs a finger around the inner circumference of the cuff, and it’s then I notice a matching one, sitting neatly underneath.

‘There’s two.’

‘And there’s some kind of gold bangle attached to each of them.’ She picks one up, and we both watch as she lifts it slowly.

Realization slams into me. ‘Oh . . .’ I breathe, recoiling in my chair.

Understanding must dawn on Jess a split second later, because she gasps and drops the cuff to the table. ‘Oh my fucking God,’ she shrieks, standing up abruptly. ‘It’s bondage gear.’

‘They’re cuffs.’ I pick one up, playing with it thoughtfully. The leather of the cuff is soft, the velvet lining even softer, but the thick gold hoop attached to it is solid and hard. ‘He’s worried he hurt me when he tied me up.’ I fall into a daze, continuing to study the pretty accessory, feeling it and slipping it over my wrist. I smile. ‘Perfect fit,’ I muse.

‘Wow,’ Jess splutters, dropping back into her chair. ‘You’re falling for a sadomasochist.’

I giggle, despite myself. Her statement is grossly inaccurate. ‘He is not a sadomasochist.’

She eyes me, her lips puckering. ‘But you are falling for him?’

I note my error and start to correct it, but Jess holds up her hand to shut me up before I can begin. ‘We’ll get to that in a minute. I’m more concerned about this.’ She waggles a finger at the box.

I take the other cuff and place them together on the table, admiring them. ‘He isn’t a sadomasochist,’ I reiterate, knowing I’m right. ‘He wants me to wear these so he can’t hurt me.’ I look up to Jess. ‘He’s worried I’ll touch him and he won’t be prepared for it during . . .’ I let my words fade and let Jess draw the right conclusion. She nods, both in understanding and for me to continue. ‘Theo’s senses are heightened to movements. Other people’s movements. I think he’s taught himself to be super aware over the years. He always catches my hands before I can touch him, and he takes control of my movement, putting them where I intended. He says he’s hypersensitive to me and he’s worried he won’t have that advantage when we’re in bed together.’

‘So you can’t touch him when you’re . . . you know . . . doing it.’

‘You’re such a prude.’ I laugh.

‘I’m not.’ Jess picks up one of the cuffs and studies it. ‘I’m just not into kinky stuff.’

‘It’s not kinky. It’s a necessity.’ I take my gift back and tuck it neatly into the box. ‘I can’t touch him at all. At least, not without him expecting and controlling it.’