Page 103 of The Beast

Chapter Thirty

He found her in her suite at the Monarch, curled up on the couch with a glass of wine and a book. She looked up when he walked in, tucking the key she’d given him into his back pocket, and the hope in her eyes nearly broke him.

“Hey.”

Gabriel crossed the room, then took the wine glass from her hand and set it on the table.

“Come with me.”

She laughed. “And hello to you, too.”

He pulled her to her feet and led her to the bedroom. “Tie me up.”

One brow lifted, clearly intrigued. Then she frowned. “Gabe, are you sure?”

“The scarves in your closet.” He was already pulling his shirt over his head, toeing off his shoes. “Tie my wrists to the headboard. Tie them tight.”

“Really?”

“Trust me.” He caught her face in his hands, then kissed her hard, the kind of kiss that had her moaning and him hard and ready. “Trust me,” he said, his voice rough.

For a moment, she just looked at him, her nipples hard under her thin tee. Then she nodded once and crossed to the closet.

Gabriel stripped off the rest of his clothes and lay back on the bed, arms stretched above his head. His heart pounded. Every chatty little instinct screamed at him to stop this, to take control, to protect himself.

He beat the little fuckers back.

Bella returned with two silk scarves, and although she bit her lip as she bound his wrists to the bed frame, her hands were as steady as a surgeon’s.

“Too tight?”

He shook his head.

She tested the knots. Tugged. Then sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him. “This is new to me. I mean, I liked it when you used to tie me up, but we never...” She trailed off, gesturing to his naked body, laid out like a present for her.

“Equal opportunity bondage.”

She grinned. “I like it. But,” she added, tilting her head. “Why?”

“Hello? I’m naked and tied to your bed.” He glanced down at his rock-hard cock, then saw her grin when she followed his gaze.

“Fair point. We’ll have the debriefing after I have my way with you.” She shimmied out of her leggings, then straddled him, still in her tee. “If you need me to stop?”

“Stillwater. I say that, you stop.”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice soft. “That works.” Then she bent forward and kissed him, gentle but intense. At the same time, she started to rock her hips, rubbing her bare cunt against his abs.

“Oh, holy fuck,” he murmured, then drew in a breath that was more like a gasp.

“Close your eyes,” she whispered. “I’ve got you. Just let yourself go.”

He didn’t need much persuasion. The knots were tight. She was safe.

And damn, but this felt good.

Her hands stroked his ribs, moving up slowly, as those hips kept undulating. A brush of her thumb against his nipple.

Then she pulled off her shirt and bent forward, starting slow as she pressed kisses along his jaw, his throat, the ridge of his collarbone. Her hands traced the scars on his chest—the bullet wounds, the burns, the map of everything he’d survived. And Gabriel lay there, bound and helpless, and let himself feel it.