Page 60 of Filthy Twisted Devil

I stop in the hallway, pressing my back against the wall. Luke stops, too. He keeps his hands by his side, like he’s afraid to push too hard or touch me without permission.

Fine. If he needs me to take the first step, I will.

I reach for him, cupping his face in my hands. His skin still carries a slight chill from the winter air outside as I pull him down for a kiss. His lips press firmly against mine, more than meeting my invitation. Our tongues clash and stroke each other as his body presses mine firmly against the wall. My hands snake down his neck and over his shoulders, feeling the firm muscles underneath. A shiver rolls through Luke’s body. I love feeling how much I affect him.

I dare to bring one hand lower, over his abs to cup his erection through his clothes. His eyes slam shut before he pulls away from me, his hands clenching into tight fists.

“Is something wrong?” I whisper.

He lets out a dark laugh. “Just that if you keep touching me, I’m going to cross a line I shouldn’t. We made rules, and if I go there with you…”

I swallow. I know exactly what he means. It started as a joke, but we’re getting dangerously close to breaking rule number five. Don’t fall in love. We’re not there yet—not even close—but if Luke takes my virginity, we run the risk of walking down that path.

There’s just one problem.

“I don’t want to stop.” I slide my fingers up under the bottom of his T-shirt. He groans when my hands make contact, his head tipping back.

“Fuck, wildflower⁠—”

His voice breaks off when I impulsively lick the triangle of skin revealed by his open-collared shirt. He tastes warm and slightly salty, and I know instantly I want more than just one taste.

Two broad hands close around my wrists, yanking them away from his body. He pulls them up above my head and against the wall behind me. His blue-green eyes burn with want.

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” His voice is gravel-rough. “You’re going to go to your bedroom and get me a bandana or a scarf. Then, you’re going to come back out and let me tie your wrists up.”

Heat pulses between my legs. The clear, confident instructions just do it for me. Everywhere else in my life, I would never let a man boss me around. But like this, giving up being in charge, handing over control to a man I trust to make me feel good? It makes my whole body hot and pliant.

I nod. “Okay.”

He releases my hands and watches as I rush into my bedroom. When I open my top drawer to get my bandana, my eyes fall on my nicer lingerie. I wonder briefly if I should change into something sexier than my gray cotton bra and panties, but ultimately decide that Luke would rather I follow his instructions quickly. I snatch a red bandana and head back to the living room, where⁠—

Holy shit.

My mouth goes dry when I see Luke shrug his unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders, revealing the muscled torso underneath. I know he hits the gym with Beau several times a week, that working out together is a core part of his friendships. That doesn’t mean seeing the hollows of his abs doesn’t make my mouth water.

He beckons me toward him with two fingers. Suddenly, I feel shy. Sliding into the dominant role, he’s different—Luke, but not Luke. I duck my head as I walk across the room and hand him the bandana.

“Hands,” he says, and I extend them forward. He loops the bandana around my wrists and knots it expertly. “How does that feel?”

I test the fabric, relieved to find that I could get out of it if I had to. It would take some effort, and I know Luke would release me the second I asked him to. I feel confined, not trapped.

“It feels good.”

“Good.” He grabs me by the top of my jeans and pulls me against him, my tied hands brushing against his cock through his trousers. “Everything we do tonight should feel good. Anything you don’t like, just tell me and I’ll stop. But as long as it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, I expect you to do what I say. Do you understand?”

“We don’t need a safeword or anything?” I ask, half-joking.

“I think stop should be good.” When I nod, he says, “Good. Now go lie down on the couch.”

That’s smart, I think to myself. The bed would be too tempting. I lie down on the cushions and raise my wrists above my head, right where Luke put them when we were against the wall. He smiles in approval.

“I’m going to take these jeans off,” he says, reaching for my waist. He quickly undoes the button and zipper, his eyes never leaving mine. He peels the jeans down my legs and tosses them onto an armchair. He kneels next to me, running his hands across the tops of my thighs. “You have amazing legs, Eden.”

“Thank you.” My words morph into a gasp as his fingers dip for a second down between my thighs, over my panties. He grazes my clit, then drags his hand up my stomach and over my ribcage, pulling the bottom of my sweater up to my collarbone so he can see my breasts. His eyes grow heavy lidded as he palms each breast through my bra.

“Fuck, wildflower,” he groans. “Your videos were sexy as hell, but they still didn’t do you justice. You’re so goddamn soft.”

I moan, because, like adorable, “soft” isn’t really a word people use for me. Maybe Luke sees me differently, or maybe I’m just different for him.