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“You paid a cop to have me arrested?” I grumble. “You’re more insane than I thought.”
“You weren’t arrested,” he says nonchalantly while walking to the dresser. “You were picked up because, like a bad girl, you ran away from me. I wasn’t going to risk chasing you down. It could have caused an innocent to be harmed because of your temper tantrum.” He opens the top drawer of the dresser and pulls out a set of leather cuffs.
“I didn’t run away; I just didn’t want to be with you at that moment and you weren’t listening to me.”
He unbuttons his shirt and untucks it from his pants. The shirt slides down his arms, and his back muscles ripple with the movement. The shirt’s discarded on top of the dresser and he picks up the cuffs.
“Maxim. Listen to me.” I take a step back from him as he approaches me, the cuffs dangling from his hand. “I wasn’t running away. I was coming back here.”
“You had already disobeyed me today by going to Freedom House without me, yes?” He’s in front of me when he asks his question. My legs hit the bed. I have nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.
“I was impatient, I agree. I said I would wait for you, and I didn’t.” Appealing to his rational side gives me a chance, not much of one, by the narrowing of his dark eyes, but it’s something.
I’ve done more than just disobey him; I went back on my word. He trusted me to go only with him, to not venture off alone. In his world this isn’t something that can be forgiven so easily, not without consequences.
“So, you ignored my call and then just went without me?” He looks down at the cuffs and begins to unbuckle one of them. “Take off your clothes, Amanda.” The command comes out in a low, firm voice. Like he’s done talking about any of this and he just wants to get on with the next part.
“You’re being an ass.” I want to pummel him with my fists.
His head jerks up at my insult and he’s on me in an instant, grabbing the neckline of my long-sleeve blouse. “I said clothes off.” With one tug, and the cuffs still in his hands, he rips my shirt down the middle. From collar to hem, it’s tattered.
I yelp at the sudden violence of it, but when he brings his eyes back to mine all I see is determination. He’s not going to let this go. He won’t let my actions put a wedge between us.
“What are you going to do?” I slowly glide the shirt over my shoulders and down my arms then reach for the buttons of my jeans. He needs this to wipe the slate clean between us.
“I’m going to bind you to the bed.” He holds up the first cuff by the buckle. It’s firm black leather. “And then I’m going to take off my belt.”
My stomach drops at the implication of his words.
“You don’t have to do that.” I shake my head.
He looks down at my body. “You’re still not undressed, Amanda.” He keeps saying my full name, and it’s coming out hard.
“You can’t—” My words die when he lifts a finger between us.
“If you tell me I can’t punish you for being such a naughty, naughty girl, I promise you, you won’t be able to sit tomorrow.” His warning is given with such raw honesty, I take it to heart and don’t bother finishing my sentence.
“Now finish getting undressed.” He works on unbuckling the second cuff while I shimmy out of my slacks and panties. For a moment, I consider leaving on my bra, but his eyebrow arches when he glances my way and I decide against it. The bra gets dumped on top of my other clothes.
“Hands.” He stretches out one cuff and holds it out for me to place my wrist in. My stomach coils into a tight knot. Going along with this is like admitting I want it.
“No.” I put my hands behind my back. Am I fighting him or myself? I can’t tell anymore.
His nostrils flare with his heavy breath. I’m expecting him to demand I give him my hands. I’m expecting him to dictate I do as I’m told. So I’m completely thrown off guard when he grabs my arm and spins me around.
“I’m not playing games with you. You got in a fucking cab and tore out of there. You shouldn’t have been there to begin with.” He grabs one wrist and works the cuff around it, buckling it quickly and then moving to the second wrist.
When he has them both on, he spins me around to face him again. “You have no idea how much danger there is out there waiting for you. And you keep pushing and pushing to see where it will get you. Well, I’m going to show you where it is. This is it.”
He points to the bed. “Get on your knees at the headboard and put your hands near those bars.”
For the first time, I notice several notches in the woodwork where black rods are placed. Perfect for connecting a chain.
“I’m not a patient man, Amanda,” he warns. “I’ve been clear on what I expect from you. You gave your word and then you went back on it. Get on the bed.”
He’s right. He’s been upfront with me. And I repaid his honesty by going back on my own word.
After a long pause, I climb onto the bed, scooting up to the bars he’s pointing at and placing my wrists near them. No more fighting this. I want things right again between us. I need this as much as he does. He kneels on the bed, pulling out two carabiners. Quickly, he snaps each wrist into the locks and connects them to the little rods.
