Page 39 of The Good Girl Effect

Touching my shoulder, he slowly turns me around so my back is to him. I take a slow, shuddering breath as he gathers my hair at the nape of my neck.

With deft fingers, he begins to section my hair into parts as if he’s done this a thousand times. While he works to braid it, he speaks. Meanwhile, I just have to remind myself to breathe.

“I’ve been thinking about what I put in that letter today, and I want you to know that I do not plan on fucking you, Ms. Aubert. It was wrong of me to write that. I am fully capable of showing you what you want to experience while keeping things professional. Understand?”

I’m flooded with disappointment, which is a little surprising. Reluctantly, I nod.

He works to braid my hair down my back, his fingers moving quickly. There’s something so calming about it that it seems to settle the nervousness inside me. He ties a small black ribbon around the end of my braid before resting his hands on my shoulders. Then he leans in until his mouth is near my ear as he adds, “But it doesn’t mean I won’t want to.”

Tendrils of hope cascade down to the base of my spine.

He leaves my back and walks over to the wardrobe, pulling it open. I don’t move from my spot as I watch him.

“When I thought about it more, I realized this might be a perfect solution for both of us. You want to know what it feels like to be tied up, and I need a willing person to let me. This does not make me your Dom, understand?”

I nod, although he never turns around to see me.

“This is an intricate and elaborate practice with many different layers and variations. I don’t want to be your teacher, Miss Aubert. I’m not interested in showing you how to tie these things yourself. If you choose to learn more, you’ll have to find someone else.”

I want to tell him that I have no intention of learning with anyone else. Instead, I whisper, “Why do you do it then? If not for…sex.”

He turns toward me with his expression pinched together in concentration. “It…settles my mind. Gives me some sense of control.” His voice is low and steady, and I have to swallow down my nerves and a hint of arousal at hearing him speak so intimately.

Why is he so desperate for control? What is on his mind that he needs to quiet?

I want more. This obsession only grows stronger with the breadcrumbs he leaves me. This man, with so many shades and so much complexity, draws my interest like no one ever has.Who are you, Jack St. Claire? Show me.

“Why are you so interested in trying it?” he replies keenly.

“I’m curious, maybe to a fault.”

His mouth twitches with the hint of a smile. “You’ve mentioned that.”

He pulls a black silk ribbon from the cabinet. As he brings it over to me, he pauses, his eyes cascading down my body. He seems to realize that I’m still fully clothed.

“You’ll need to take these off. Leave on your bra and underwear.” He clears his throat as I quickly tug my shirt over my head and shed my pants, throwing both in a pile in the corner. I watch his molars grind as he stares at the messy pile of clothes.

Suddenly, I’m standing half-naked in front of him while he’s fully clothed, and it’s incredibly vulnerable and uncomfortable.I can practically feel my nipples tighten under my thin bra. He must notice too, because his attention lingers there as if briefly hypnotized. I grow warmer with every passing second that his eyes are on me.

Shaking himself out of it, his gaze finds mine. “Before we start, I need to know you understand that this requires a great deal of trust between both of us. You trust me to keep you safe, and I trust you to communicate with me if anything feels wrong. Nod if you understand.”

So I do.

I know I have no good reason to trust Jack. I hardly know him. He’s only proven himself to be self-centered, rude, and detached. But he’s slowly opening up to me. As vulnerable as I feel giving my trust to him, I know he feels twice as vulnerable by letting me in. My instincts are telling me that he won’t hurt me. And I always trust my gut.

“Normally, I’d want you blindfolded. It will heighten your senses and build trust, but I don’t think the first session is the right time to do it.”

My brows soften as I stare at the black ribbon. “I can handle it.”

Reaching out, he touches my chin. “Not yet.”

With that, he drapes the black ribbon over the handle of the door, and I fixate on it longingly. Why am I so intrigued by the idea of being robbed of my sight? Why on earth am I so eager to hand over all my trust to this man?

“We’re going to start with a basic tie, just so you can feel what it’s like. Hold out your wrists,” he says. His voice is soothing yet rough, and I find something like peace in his commands. He’s not bossing me around or barking orders at me. He’s giving me guidance, making his instructions easy to follow.

Suddenly, I am eager to please.

So I hold out my wrists.