Gentleman Sinner(44)

‘What the hell is that?’ Jess asks, leaning in closely.

I’m damned if I know. Cocking my head, suddenly afraid to touch the unknown object, I try to fathom what it is exactly we’re looking at. I figure out there’s a cuff of some sort, lined with . . .

‘Is that velvet?’ Jess reaches forward and runs a finger around the inner circumference of the cuff, and it’s then I notice a matching one, sitting neatly underneath.

‘There’s two.’

‘And there’s some kind of gold bangle attached to each of them.’ She picks one up, and we both watch as she lifts it slowly.

Realization slams into me. ‘Oh . . .’ I breathe, recoiling in my chair.

Understanding must dawn on Jess a split second later, because she gasps and drops the cuff to the table. ‘Oh my fucking God,’ she shrieks, standing up abruptly. ‘It’s bondage gear.’

‘They’re cuffs.’ I pick one up, playing with it thoughtfully. The leather of the cuff is soft, the velvet lining even softer, but the thick gold hoop attached to it is solid and hard. ‘He’s worried he hurt me when he tied me up.’ I fall into a daze, continuing to study the pretty accessory, feeling it and slipping it over my wrist. I smile. ‘Perfect fit,’ I muse.

‘Wow,’ Jess splutters, dropping back into her chair. ‘You’re falling for a sadomasochist.’

I giggle, despite myself. Her statement is grossly inaccurate. ‘He is not a sadomasochist.’

She eyes me, her lips puckering. ‘But you are falling for him?’

I note my error and start to correct it, but Jess holds up her hand to shut me up before I can begin. ‘We’ll get to that in a minute. I’m more concerned about this.’ She waggles a finger at the box.

I take the other cuff and place them together on the table, admiring them. ‘He isn’t a sadomasochist,’ I reiterate, knowing I’m right. ‘He wants me to wear these so he can’t hurt me.’ I look up to Jess. ‘He’s worried I’ll touch him and he won’t be prepared for it during . . .’ I let my words fade and let Jess draw the right conclusion. She nods, both in understanding and for me to continue. ‘Theo’s senses are heightened to movements. Other people’s movements. I think he’s taught himself to be super aware over the years. He always catches my hands before I can touch him, and he takes control of my movement, putting them where I intended. He says he’s hypersensitive to me and he’s worried he won’t have that advantage when we’re in bed together.’

‘So you can’t touch him when you’re . . . you know . . . doing it.’

‘You’re such a prude.’ I laugh.

‘I’m not.’ Jess picks up one of the cuffs and studies it. ‘I’m just not into kinky stuff.’

‘It’s not kinky. It’s a necessity.’ I take my gift back and tuck it neatly into the box. ‘I can’t touch him at all. At least, not without him expecting and controlling it.’

She pouts to herself, her mind obviously racing. Welcome to my world, Jess. ‘I wonder what would happen?’

My hands falter, enough for her to notice and conclude that I’m as curious about that as she is. ‘I need to unpack.’ I leave Jess at the table and make my way through to my bedroom, flopping on the bed with my box. And as I stare up at the ceiling, I daydream. I daydream, hope, and pray that one day Theo will be comfortable enough to give me free rein over his body. Until then, I guess I should get used to being tied up.





Chapter 12

For once, I’m not complaining about the heat in the hospital. I haven’t warmed up since I left Vegas. God, eight hours at work and my holiday already feels like eons ago, and the urge to tip a bucket of water over Jess’s head this morning, when she smugly collected her coffee before going back to bed, was unbearably hard to resist. Her first shift back at work is the red-eye shift, the lucky cow. I, however, was up and out of the house by five thirty, more or less sobbing my way to work. I feel like I’ve been awake for years.

‘Where’s that sparkle in those gorgeous green eyes?’ Mable asks as I unhook her catheter bag.

‘In my bed,’ I quip. ‘How are you feeling? One to ten.’

‘Five,’ she answers immediately, hissing as she shifts on the bed. ‘Are you going to tell me about Dallas or not?’

‘Vegas,’ I correct her, laughing. ‘Do you have a thing for cowboys, Mable?’

She gives me an impish grin. ‘A man who prefers to straddle a horse rather than me isn’t top of my want list, dear.’

I fold over with laughter, nearly dropping the bag full of pee. ‘You’re a wicked old lady.’

‘Age won’t take that away from me, young girl.’

I look around at the rest of the patients in Mable’s bay, all elderly, either sleeping or looking as miserable as you would expect someone who’s stuck in a hospital to be. Mable is a refreshing change. ‘I’ll miss you when you’re gone,’ I say as one of the catering girls rounds the corner with the trolley.

‘Well, until this damn hip starts playing ball, I ain’t going nowhere, my love.’

I do a quick mental rewind through all the updates I’ve had today. ‘Hey, did anyone collect you for your X-ray yet?’