“Yes, I did.”
Yes, she probably did. They both knew he liked to command. That was one of the rewards of his games with blindfolds and mirrors. He had a grim feeling his ascendancy ended tonight.
“Where did you get the cords?” Not that he cared. All he cared about was that she moved her hand and touched him where he burned. Arousal built to such a pitch, it almost swamped shame.
“The curtains.” She perched on the bed and the soft curve of her hip warmed his flank through her skirts. His heart thundered as he recalled she wore nothing underneath the dress. As if he touched her, his hands opened and closed in their bonds.
“You’ve cheated me,” she said thoughtfully.
In its erratic travels, her hand swept lower and for one flaring moment she skimmed the hair at the base of his erection. He groaned with frustration and felt himself thicken. “How?” he croaked.
She leaned down and her hair fell forward, catching the glow of candlelight, brushing the over-sensitized skin of his belly. He sucked in a painful breath as hunger blazed through him. Automatically he reached to touch her hair, only to come up short against the cord. Damn it.
She ran her hands along his ribs. He thought she’d forgotten his question. Hell, he was close to forgetting his name. He couldn’t condemn her distraction. She pressed her mouth to the center of his chest.
“You’ve been hiding your magnificence.” She nipped at one pectoral even as he jerked in protest.
“Don’t ridicule me.”
He regretted his response when compassion darkened her eyes, deepening them to velvet. She cupped his face. He tried to evade her but she had him trapped. “Oh, Jonas…”
The murmur echoed in the heart he struggled to barricade against her. It felt like she held his brittle soul in the palm of her hand. Would she crush it to dust? His experience of the world said yes. His experience of Sidonie made him long to entrust her with everything he was.
“I love your body,” she said softly. “It’s so beautiful.”
He felt as though a knot of tarred rope stuck in his gullet. He couldn’t have spoken even if he could think of something to say. Nobody ever called him beautiful.
“You’re breathtakingly exciting. You’ve turned my nights to fire. You’ve lit my whole world with flame.”
“Sidonie…” No other woman struck him dumb. Blast her, she did it all the time without trying.
“Hush.” Her fingers traced the marks on his face.
Hell. He didn’t want her dwelling on his hideous face. He tried to wrench away. If he wasn’t tied down, he’d run from the room like the coward he was.
Damn her. Damn her to Hades. Why did she do this?
“Don’t,” he forced out.
“Hush,” she said again and placed her lips on the thick scar bisecting his eyebrow.
“No,” he choked, but she didn’t seem to hear. Instead she shifted her attentions to the long slash dividing his cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut and wished she’d tied the blindfold over his face.
He hated this. Hated it.
“You’re shaking.” She spoke against his temple, her breath feathering his hair.
“Stop it.” His hands fisted in their bonds.
“Oh, my love,” she murmured with gentle cha
stisement.
The endearment cut straight through him. Even as he loathed her pity, he yearned for her tenderness. No woman had shared this sweet softness with him. It made him feel weak, needy, but he couldn’t prevent his heart opening to her. When she kissed his broken nose, tears burned behind his eyes. Hell, no. He refused to weep like some puling milksop. But the angry words demanding she desist died unspoken when she pressed her mouth to his.
Jonas was so proud. Too proud.
Even now when Sidonie offered comfort for his sufferings, he fought to rise above human weaknesses like pain and loneliness. He was so used to battling the world alone, he didn’t realize she was on his side.