Page 102 of Bleed

Chapter

Twenty-Two

Elliott’s large hand swallows mine, his skin cool, fingers closing firmly around mine before pulling me to my feet. My pulse skitters wildly under my skin as he leads me to the staircase, heart pounding so hard I’m sure he can hear it as we start to climb. Each step is slow and measured, but I’m so twitchy with anticipation I still feel like I might trip over my own feet and faceplant on the stairs.

By the time we get to the top, my heart’s in my throat, and I’m suddenly very aware of the fact I’m not wearing anything cuter than a faded old band tee and cutoff jean shorts. It was perfectly acceptable for the dive bar, but now I’m wishing I changed when I got back. Then again, if this is headed where I think it is, I won’t be wearing them for much longer.

He leads me down the hallway, breezing past his study, then his office. My feet slow as we approach his bedroom, but he continues moving past it, my brain stalling even as my feet keep carrying me forward.

Elliott comes to a stop in front of the last door on the left, letting go of my hand and slipping a key fob from his pocket. He taps it against the flat black panel beside the door, and the lock disengages with a soft click.

I crane my neck to peer up at him, arching a skeptical brow. “Thought this was just storage?”

He pauses with his hand on the knob, flicking me a glance. “Not exactly,” he murmurs before turning the knob and pushing the door open.

Rather than stepping in, he shifts aside, waiting for me to enter first. And of course, I’m too curious not to. I brush past him, completely unprepared for what lies before me.

The walls are papered with a matte black damask pattern, the floor covered in plush, slate gray carpet that silences my steps. No windows line the walls– just recessed lights in the ceiling that cast the room in a low, sultry glow. A bed rests on a platform in the center, dressed in luxurious black sheets and framed in black lacquered wood with a gleaming steel ring bolted to the headboard.

Heat rises to my cheeks as my gaze drifts from the bed to the low set of cabinets running the length of the side wall. A mirror spans the entire length of the wall above them, as well as a rail where a collection of implements hang like surgical tools. My eyes bounce between the various riding crops, paddles, ticklers, and other objects whose use I can only guess at.

“You’re kidding,” I blurt, spinning to face Elliott in the doorway and throwing a thumb over my shoulder. “This is a joke, right?”

He watches me from just outside the threshold, his hands tucked into his pockets, eyes dark and unreadable behind the lenses of his glasses. “No,” he replies simply.

I bark an incredulous laugh as I turn in a slow circle, still processing. “Okay, I seriously did not expect you to have a sex dungeon. I figured you’d be more of a–”

“A what?” he interrupts, cocking a brow.

“I don’t know,” I scoff, gesturing at him. “A science nerd? A brainiac? Not the type to have an actual playroom.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Then it seems there’s much you don’t know about me,” he says, the words humming with promise.

I swallow hard, suddenly remembering every single item listed in that addendum. “I’m starting to see that.”

Turning away from him again, I advance further into the room, running my fingers over the implements hanging from the wall. “Seriously though, what is this? Some Fifty Shades shit? Should I be, like, scared right now?”

Elliott finally steps inside, closing the door behind him. “Only if fear arouses you,” he replies, voice pitched lower than before. “You’ll always have a safe word, but I suspect you’ll never have to use it.”

I just stare back at him, my breathing going shallow and my heart beating a riot in my chest. He folds his arms, leaning back against the door, and I move over to the bed, hopping up to sit on the edge. It’s even softer than it looks, my legs dangling over the edge as I lean back on my palms and tilt my head.

“So what now?” I ask.

His eyes flick over me, head to toe. “Now, we proceed according to your preferences.”

I cock a brow. “And if my preference is to not overthink it and just get naked?”

He pushes off the wall and prowls over, looming larger with each step. When he comes to a stop in front of me, the look on his face is pure predator– calm, measured, but dangerous in a way that makes heat bloom under my skin. His gaze skims my bare legs, then climbs up to my chest, lingering there as he assesses every heartbeat, every shift of my breath.

Whatever happens next, I already know I’ll be signing that damn addendum tomorrow.

Probably twice.

“Then remove your clothes,” he says in a low, commanding tone that leaves zero room for argument.

Of course, my gut instinct is to push back against his order. Sass him, and see how he reacts. But that’s not how Elliott Faulkner operates. Albert said as much in his whole cryptic speech about making it easy for Elliott to choose, and if last night taught me anything, it’s that there’s a major payoff in following his directions.

So, I start slow. My fingers find the hem of my t-shirt, and I strip it off over my head, tossing it away. My hair falls forward, and I shake it loose for maximum drama, my eyes locked on Elliott’s as I slide off the bed to stand. He backs up to give me space while I pop the button on my shorts, shimmying my hips as I wriggle them down my legs. They hit the carpet, leaving me in nothing but my black lace bralette and matching thong.