His chest rises slow, deep, broad and sculpted, with a faint sheen of sweat across his pecs that glints in the low light. Every hard ridge of his torso seems flexed with restrained power.
I grab his legs next, wrapping the rope around his ankles and yanking them toward the opposite end of the couch. His thighs are thick, solid, and I swear, the sight alone makes me burn.
I finish tying the last knot, breathless, fingers shaking.
He’s stretched now. Helpless. Perfect.
A wicked little thrill flares in my chest.
Rowen Grayson — dangerous, possessive, insane — is tied, gorgeous, and completely mine.
I did it. I caught him.
Yay!
A laugh bubbles up. I can’t help it. I nudge his leg with my toe and skip back. Giggling.
I wait on bated breath. Come on. Wake up.
His eyes flutter open.
He blinks. Focuses. Sees me.
I hold up my bare wrists with pride. “Surprise!”
He jerks to rise, fast.
Thunk!
The restraints catch. His arms yank harder, muscles bulging.
“What the fuck?” he snarls.
I grin like an idiot. Then clap before breaking into a dance.
“I got you, Grayson!”
Chapter 47
Charlotte
Grayson actuallygrowls.
The deep, animal sound charges the air between us.
“Piggy, undo these.Now,” he orders, the words scraping through his clenched teeth.
I shake my head slowly. My smile is sharp. Unbreakable.
“Charlotte.” His voice is raw, breath heavy through his nose, the kind of anger that makes most people back up. But I step forward instead.
I crouch beside the couch and tap his ribs, light and taunting. “Just testing the ropes,” I hum, side glancing at him... ready to jump away.
And indeed, he thrashes violently. The couch jerks. My knots tighten. They hold.
I let out a giddy squeal, part fear, part thrill.
“Grayson,” I whisper, dragging a finger down the plane of his chest. “You’re... you’re mine. My prisoner.”
