I landed awkwardly, smashing into a row of formal suits behind me. The hangers clattered, and I had to adjust a few ofthem, but I had acquired my prize. Knox's secrets. Or his hidden hobby. Or his super spy kit. Whatever it was, it had a bit of weight to it, and it filled the bag tightly.
I shimmied the drawstring apart and found… rope.
That was it. Just regular, black, utilitarian rope. Frowning I let the bag droop along with my arms. "Lame," I muttered to no one. I should have known that Knox wouldn't do anything interesting. It was just that there was something about him—a darkness that shimmered under his glassy, cool exterior. I had fully expected to find something naughty.
The word "naughty" pinged in my brain. I slowly raised the bag to my eye level again.Wait a minute. Rope. No way.I dug past the neatly coiled rope to the side of the bag where a flat, glossy book had been tucked between the fabric and the buttery soft rope. I fished out the book, and my eyes widened incredulously. It was an instruction manual for shibari rope ties with a busty, black-haired beauty tied with rope into a series of knots on its cover. A man stood behind her, shirtless and holding a length of rope connected to her neck.
A sly smile crept up my features. I thumbed through the book, keeping the rope wedged under my arm as I looked through images of how to tie up partners—men and women—and how to fasten each knot so the wearer wouldn't be harmed or uncomfortable. The further I went, the more complicated they got, wrapping around the wearer's breasts, in beautiful patterns down their spines, and over their thighs and arms.
I'd never really explored shibari before—it had seemed terribly complicated, and I'd never had partners who had given an indication that they would be willing to learn. As I flipped through the explicit images of women tied down and partners clearly lavishing pleasure on their willing bodies, my nipples hardened against the padded material of my bra. This was really fucking hot.
It was hard to imagine Rook doing something like this. Part of me suspected that he was either a robot or a virgin because he never seemed interested in sexual partners. When I'd made the rule about not bringing back partners to the apartment for sex, he'd rolled his eyes like that was an absurd suggestion. Looking through this book, I had to wonder if his reaction had been more about how absurd it was to expect him tonothave sex, rather than my assumption that he hadn't planned on having partners here.
The wraps, harnesses, and binding patterns became more complicated as the book went on, and after perusing them all with genuine interest, I went back to the beginning. The first instruction with pictures was how to bind the wrists, and it looked pretty simple. Shrugging, I unraveled the rope from the bag and set the open book on Rook's shelf of shoes, propped up against the heels of a pair of navy sneakers. I read the instructions twice, fairly certain that it wasn't possible to do this on myself, but too curious not to try.
As I wrapped the rope around both my wrists three times, leaving four inches between my hands, I then twisted the rope around the middle portion to make them look like handcuffs with a chain. "This isn't so hard," I muttered, glancing at the book and then back down at my wrists. The tricky bit here would be threading the end of the rope through the cuff around my wrist to secure a knot. I managed to wiggle it under my left wrist, but before I could thread it all the way through, I sensed someone behind me.
A strong arm curved around me, and before I could so much as turn in surprise, he grabbed the end of the rope I had managed to wiggle through my cuffs, and with a deft tug, he pulled my hands above my head. I had the briefest awareness that it was Rook who had come home and found me tying my own hands in his closet, and then he tossed the long end of the rope over thehighest hanger rod, zipped it down, and pulled it taut. My arms yanked high above my head, lifting me onto my tiptoes, and with an astonished intake of breath, I found myself bound and practically hanging from the closet, two inches from Knox.
I rotated like a pinata on a string, dancing on my tiptoes and staring up at Knox in open-mouth shock. My heart slammed against my ribs, ricocheting around like a racquetball match. He stared down at me, one corded muscle in his forearm bulging as he held the rope he'd deftly turned into a pulley. His blond hair looked disheveled, zhuzhed to the side and partially falling over one arctic blue eye. He was still wearing his black wool jacket, and in the muted lighting from the overhead lights, his sharp features cast shadows over one side of his face. He pulled a little harder, nearly lifting me off my toes. "Experimenting?"
"Uh," I choked out. I glanced up at my hands, securely held by cuffs of my own doing, and then back to him. "You're home."
One corner of his mouth twitched up. "Just in time, it seems."
I raised a look to the rope again, and then reluctantly met his darkened gaze. "I was just… testing your rope." I swallowed. "Seems sturdy."
"Hm," he hummed, his eyes dropping to my bra and bare midriff and back up. "I can think of other ways to test its strength. Are you offering to help?"
I gaped at him, my wrists already getting sore. "Areyou?"
He shrugged. "I see the merits of tying you down so you can't make trouble, Gem."
Gem. It was such a simple thing, that nickname, but he'd never said it before. He'd never done anything remotely endearing with me, come to think of it. And here he was, offering to tie me up and using a nickname. I blinked at him. "I think the elevation on the plane went to your head."
His hard features cracked, dangerously close to a smile. "Is it that crazy that I might like having you in ropes?"
"Well, you clearly like ropes," I pointed out, my voice breathy. "I wasn't sure you liked me."
That seemed to confuse him. "Why would you think I don't like you?"
I shifted a pointed look to where he had me suspended from a fucking closet. "Gee, I don't know. The scowling is a good indicator."
"I scowl at everyone." He eased up on the rope a tad, and my wrists stopped aching.
"You also touch everyone but me," I added before I could stop myself.Why did you say that? I thought with sudden panic. I might as well have asked him why he didn't find me attractive.
Knox smelled like his cologne, masculine and woodsy, and his body drifted within a millimeter of pressing against me until I could feel the heat from his body seeping into my bare skin. He angled his head, perusing my body slowly. "Where do you want me to touch you, Gem?"
My breath clogged in my throat. I lifted my chin, putting our lips an inch away from touching.Anywhere, my thoughts sighed.Everywhere. Are your fingers calloused? Smooth?Reality squirmed under the melting pool of desire at the center of my thoughts, and with an effort, I managed to save myself from looking like an utter fool. "You could start with this rope. It's kind of chafing."
He breathed out a laugh, blue eyes dancing over my features momentarily. Then he turned his attention to the rope, and letting it slide away, he took my bound wrists between his hands. With a few masterful tugs, he had my hands free and the rope coiling between his fingers as he gathered it. His keen eyes watched me as I rubbed my skin and stepped away toward the door. "I believe we have a rule about snooping."
I cleared my throat, bending down to scoop up my hoodie from the floor. "I wasn't snooping. I was… inspecting."
"Ah, inspecting." He nodded in mock consideration. "So, then, we aren't getting married—we're legally contracting with each other. Is that how that works?"
I shoved my arms through the hoodie, glaring. "We aren't doing either of those things."
