Jacked (Trent Brothers #1)(120)

“What are we doing?”

He stopped abruptly at the bottom of the stairs. “You’re done questioning me.”

His tone cracked me like a sharp sting from a whip. “Listen, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry has nothing to do with it,” he tossed back, echoing my words as he pulled me past the edge of the couch to the center of the room. His grip on my wrist tightened while he glared down at me. “Do not move.”

I watched him cross the room, my feet frozen in place with what I could only surmise was curiosity mixed with a bit of fear—fear of angering him further. He fetched a large black duffle bag from the closet built under the stairs, which he deposited at my feet. He stuffed something into his pocket and then stepped up onto the ottoman and clipped something to the ceiling.

Adam stripped off his suit jacket and laid it over the back of the single chair; his jaw hard and tensed. His necktie was the next item to go. He stretched the black paisley silk to its full length and moved behind me, grasping my shoulders firmly as he draped his tie over my neck.

I couldn’t calm my heart rate. “You’re scaring me.”

He peeled my black cardigan sweater off, gliding his fingertips over my bare arms. His lips touched the edge of my ear. “Good. You’ll come harder that way.”

My breath hitched. I’ll what?

Adam tossed my sweater onto the couch. “You don’t get it, so I’m going to explain it to you.” He seized my wrists, cinching them together with authoritative efficiency. Instinct to flee warred with paralyzing panic.

I felt his breath on my neck. “I asked you to share and you chose not to, making assumptions instead. That does not sit well with me.” The plastic noose around my wrists tightened with a final tug.

“Adam—”

“Right now I don’t want to hear another word out of your mouth unless you’re answering my questions or moaning my name. Are we clear? Nod if you understand.”

I wanted to kneecap him but was frozen in emotional overload. His words crackled with commanding authority. He rolled his shirt sleeves up, exposing his corded forearms that were as tense as his focus.

“What are you—?”

He unzipped the large duffle bag. “No. You had your chance to talk.” He retrieved a coil of bright red rope and started unwinding it, running each inch through his hands, meticulously inspecting it. “So we play this my way. After all, aren’t you a little curious?”

Damn him. I was, but now was not the time.

He folded the rope in half. Firm hands guided my body, swiftly wrapping me in his cording. His control seemed effortless, as though the motions were practiced and ingrained. I should have balked at the idea, put up some sort of resistance, but his focused attention was too liberating to pass up.

“The red looks gorgeous against your skin.”

Anticipation made my throat constrict. With a couple of passes and measured tugs, both of my arms were bound together behind me with soft cotton, from my upper arms down to my wrists.

I staggered on my high heels as the tension in my muscles increased. “Adam.”

“Always in control, my doc is. Always fighting what’s inside her head.” He snipped the plastic band off my wrists and then tied the rope off. “Let’s see what we can do about that.” He removed the necktie from my shoulders. The soft silk drifted over my eyes, slowly over the slope of my nose, brushing the scent of his cologne and his focused presence into my senses. Silk tickled over my cheeks and separated my lips. I felt helpless and nervous when he tightened it enough so it would stay in place.

“There we go. Much better,” he whispered right next to my ear, sending shivers of unbridled anticipation rolling through my body. “You can keep your silence. Now then, where were we?” He tugged my sleeveless blouse up with painstaking casualness, slowly pulling it out of my skirt. Firm hands slid over my stomach, warming my skin, and then left me feeling bereft when deft fingers opened each button. My mind went hazy when he cupped both of my breasts.

He squeezed my nipples, rolling them within the lace of my bra. The pleasurable pain jolted throughout me, replacing angered apprehension with heightened awareness. “When I ask you a question I expect the truth, and not some bullshit about how you think I don’t want to hear what’s bothering you.”

His words and teeth grazed my neck. He pinched harder. “Does this feel like pretend to you?”

I couldn’t stifle my moan through the necktie gag, even though my shame and penitent heart were weighing heavily.

“Have I given you any reason to think I don’t care about you?”

I snuffled hard and shook my head.

He pulled and squeezed, zinging another wave of arousal through my darkness. “Have I?”

I shook more fervently.

I felt his deep sigh as he dropped his hands, leaving me cold and empty and strangely alone inside. The rope tugged between my shoulders, jostled my wrists, and then he threaded the end through the clip in the ceiling.

My sleeveless blouse hung open, the air chilling my exposed skin. I felt like a side of beef dangling from a hook, raw and bleeding. It was aggravating, not to mention slightly uncomfortable.

He set a pair of silver sheers on the end table and stood in front of me. A gentle hand softly caressed my cheek. “I’ve thought about this first scene between us a lot. Everyone always placing demands on you. I’ve wondered how you would handle being bound. If you’d be able to free your mind.”