Page 94 of Make-Believe Match

“Good.” He placed the black tie over my eyes and tied it securely at the back of my head.

The total darkness was more disconcerting than I thought it would be. My body prickled with fear at the sudden loss of vision. “Have you done this before?”

“Yes.”

I couldn’t help being disappointed, which was so dumb. “A lot?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” The mattress shifted as he placed a knee on either side of my ribcage. He eased my head down onto a pillow and crossed my wrists above my head. “But it’s better for you that this isn’t my first time.”

“Okay.”

He tied my wrists, and I tugged at the restraints. They weren’t so tight as to cut off circulation, but there was no escaping. My heart was skipping beats like a stone across the water. My breath was coming faster.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes.” My voice was faint, as if my vocal cords had been incapacitated along with my hands.

He continued working, and my arms were pulled toward the wall. Secured tight. I imagined a necktie stretching between my crossed wrists and the bar above my head. My hunch was confirmed when I realized I had a small range of motion from my shoulder joint, but that was it. I was tethered to the wall.

My pulse galloped even faster. Even though I knew I was safe with him, it was like some million-year-old instinct in me was worried that I would not be able to escape the predator who prowled nearby.

The next thing I felt was Devlin’s lips at my ear. “This might not be my first time, but it’s already my favorite.” He moved down my body, his breath a mere whisper on my skin—neck, breast, ribcage, hip—but igniting every receptor like a blow torch.

My nipples tingled. My toes curled. The hum began to build, sweet and low. I held my breath, my nerves on edge. I wished I couldseehim. Was he enjoying this? Was it turning him on to see me this way? Was he hard?

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Frustrated. I miss my eyes and my hands.”

A low chuckle. “What would you do with your hands?”

“Touch you. I want to know if you’re hard.”

“You’re thinking about my cock?”

I swallowed. “Yes.”

“I like that. I like that a lot.” His voice grew quieter. “And yes, I’m hard.”

I thought for sure his next move would be proving it, but I was wrong. Keeping my legs locked together between his knees, he put something small and metallic against my lips, then slowly dragged it down my chin, my neck, my sternum. “You know, I had no idea how much I’d enjoy this.”

“Tying me up? Seeing me helpless?”

“No. I knew I’d enjoy that.” He circled my breasts with the tiny object, used it to tease my nipples, ran it along the curve of my hip. “I meant being married to you.”

And I realized what he was using on my skin.

His ring.

“Living with you. Making you laugh. Seeing you smile.” He slid the ring low across my belly. “Feeling you come.”

My mouth opened, but I couldn’t speak.

“I thought the best part of this would be getting revenge. I was wrong.” He swept the gold band back up the center of my chest and throat, then traced the outline of my mouth. “It’s calling you my wife.”

I thought my body might burst into flames. Burn down this whole building. Incinerate the city.

He took the ring off my lips. A moment later, I heard the ice cubes clink in his glass.