Page 116 of My Fallen Saint

“Ellie…”

I shiver from the heat in his voice, my nipples going hard against the lace. “Remember what you wanted at the track? Take me like that now.”

I slide closer, then pull his hands to my breasts. “Tie me up. Bind me. Use me however you want to and for as long as you need to get it through your head that I’m yours. I always have been. And if you want to get rid of me, you’re going to have to fight harder than you ever have in your life, because I’m not going willingly. Instead, I’m surrendering, but only to you. Because you’re the only one I trust to pull me back out again.”

“Trust,” he repeats, an ironic edge to his voice. “El, I—”

“Hush.” I take his hand and tug him to the bedroom. I’ve already lit the candles, and when I open the door, I hear his sharp intake of breath. The room is aglow from the light of dozens of flickering flames. I leave him there, then crawl onto the bed in bra, panties, and my pink Manolos.

I’ve threaded a rope through the headboard so that it emerges on either side, a slipknot at each end. I lay back, put my wrists into the loops, then tug sharply, forcing the knots to tighten at my wrists. Then I flash him my most innocent smile. “You could untie me. Or you could take advantage of the situation.”

I know I’ve won when I see his lips twitch. “I’ve never been one to close my eyes when opportunity knocks,” he says, letting his eyes roam slowly over me. “And right now, opportunity is pounding at the door.”

I lick my lips, but don’t say anything.

He comes to the foot of the bed, then leans forward, still in the tailored suit he wore to the office. He puts his hands on my thighs and slides them down to my ankles, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. I close my eyes, relishing the feel of his hands upon me, only to open them again when he breaks the contact.

He takes off his jacket, then tosses it over the back of a nearby chair. His tie comes next, and then the button at his collar. I expect him to continue, but he doesn’t. Instead, he meets my eyes. “Spread your legs.”

That’s all he says, but it’s enough to make my entire body tighten with longing. I’m wet, I know I am, and I know he can see how soaked my panties are, especially when his heated glance at my core is ratcheting my own desire up higher and higher.

“You like that,” he says, moving onto the bed. He kisses the back of my knee, his hands stroking up my thighs like an advance team. “You like being open for me. Being on display.”

I want to deny it, but how the hell can I? I never knew before what a turn-on it is to be watched—at least when the person watching is exactly who you want.

He inches closer, then teases his finger along the elastic band that separates my thigh from my pussy. I bite my lower lip and squirm a bit, anticipating the moment when his finger dips under.

Except it doesn’t come. Instead, he strokes his fingers lightly on the outside of the thin cotton. It’s a delicious sensation, but not nearly enough. “Please,” I murmur. “Devlin, please.”

He flashes another sexy, mysterious grin, then closes his mouth over me, panties and all. I bend my knees, arching up, trying to increase the friction, but he just pulls away, then continues his slow climb up my body until his hands cup my breasts, and I whimper with longing.

I want this, yes, but I want so much more.

And, damn him, he’s right. Because what I want most of all is to surrender.

Then his hands are on my shoulders, then my hair. Then he’s kissing me with such tenderness I think that I will melt. And by the time he eases back down, my entire body is on fire.

Devlin stands again at the foot of the bed. “Look at me.”

I do, looking straight in his eyes and forcing myself not to look away.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I—I don’t know.”

“Don’t you? Because you deserve everything. Every pleasure I can give you. The sweet thrill of a sting on your ass. The soft delight of a kiss on your cheek.”

Yes,I think. Yes, yes, yes. But what I say is, “What if I want something in between?”

His brow rises. “What’s between hard and soft?”

“You.”

Heat flares in his eyes. “Christ, baby. How you break me.”

He turns around, his gaze scanning the floor. Then he bends and picks up something out of sight. When he stands, I see that he’s holding his tie. I frown, confused, then feel my pulse kick up as he comes toward me and tells me to lift my head.

I don’t argue, and soon enough, I’m blindfolded, the silk of his tie soft against my skin, and only the occasional flicker of candlelight sneaking in around the edges of the material.