That hurt, but I ignored the sting. “I’m asking for more time. I’m asking for what you owe me. The willingness to sleep with you isn’t a payment—it’s as much for my enjoyment as it is yours.”

Unzipping my skirt, I stepped out of it as it slithered to the floor. “I’m only asking you to keep your side of the bargain.”

He bit his lip as his erection leapt in his trousers. His stomach tensed as he said, “You’re making this sound like an agreed contract. There were no rules. No conditions.”

I didn’t reply, hooking my fingertips in the top of my G-string and wiggling my hips in invitation. “Do you accept?” My voice had turned to husk and allure, sending a scattering of goose bumps over my skin to realize how sexual I’d become.

Had I always been confident or was this new?

It was so hard to know who I was when faced with a situation such as this. Was it just survival making me lust for my kidnapper, or my mind drip-feeding me tales of a boy who held the same impossible traits as Arthur Killian?

He swallowed hard as I took another step, his throat contracting. He never took his eyes from my lingerie-covered core but his decision blazed true in their depths.

Holding up the bar, he nodded once.

I closed the distance between us, tensing against the heat from his body and the tingling awareness of being so close. “Where do you want me?” I murmured.

“Lie on your back,” he ordered.

I did as he asked, unashamed of my seminaked body as I climbed onto the bed and crawled to the center. Somehow my scars and ink gave me sanctuary. They gave me a place to hide even while being so incredibly vulnerable. Rolling onto my back, I tried to control my breathing as Kill hunted after me on all fours.

In the time it’d taken me to get into position, he’d removed his T-shirt and discarded his jeans. His black boxer-briefs failed to hide his massive erection.

Climbing over my body, he straddled me with power.

“Hold out your arm,” he whispered.

I did as I was told, placing my wrist into the soft, supple cuff. With a fierce look, he buckled it quickly, sliding the spreader bar through his hands until my arm was outstretched. “Raise them.”

I settled back onto the mattress and placed my arms above me. Kill straddled me higher, his hard cock coming within centimeters of my mouth. He looked magnificent—a long-haired rebel with a mermaid smiling her secret smile on his leg.

My breathing turned to pants as my core clenched. I could stare at his perfect body all day and still want more. I wanted to lick the deliciously formed Vs of his stomach. I wanted to trace the shadows of muscles and press kisses on his inner thighs.

So much he denied himself by tying me up. Touch was the greatest thing a human could enjoy—it was better than sex. Touch could be anything from consoling to inspiring—to go through life without being caressed by another? My heart hurt for him.

“Do you ever let anyone touch you?” I whispered as he strapped my other wrist with a cuff, locking the bar in the center to keep it from contracting. The pressure of being spread stretched my shoulders. It felt nice, for now, but I knew it would begin to ache very quickly. He’d tightened it so there was no room to move or wriggle.

“No,” he snapped. “Stop talking.” He climbed off the bed and disappeared again.

The next time he returned, he held the gold tie.

He obviously wasn’t going to use it to bind my wrists seeing as I was trapped. My eyes. He wants to blindfold you.

Panic laced my blood at the thought of being in the dark again.

“You want me to fuck you, this is how it’s gonna be. You don’t touch me. You don’t see me. You take what I give you and don’t ask for a drop more.”

“I let you restrain me, but I don’t want to be blindfolded.”

Kill chuckled, running his rough fingers down my cheek. “Still thinking you have the power to say no.” Bending over me, he whispered in my ear, “Where you’re concerned, I’ve given the wrong impression. You don’t get to ask me for things. You obey me and hope to God you please me. You’re only here because I want you to be here—but under my fucking terms. Got it?”

He’s lying not only to me, but himself. Yes, I was bound and about to be fucked under his rules. But only because I’d kissed him. Only because I wanted this.

My heart beat harder for a man so deeply entrenched in denial. Could he not even admit to himself that he’d met another woman who could affect him like his Dead Girl? So what if I looked like her? I was different from his past. Different from my past. What was happening between us was exactly that—between us—not between ghosts and memories.

If he needs to believe his fibs, let him.

I needed to make him keep me. I didn’t mind playing his rules in order to do that.

Nodding, I whispered, “Okay. I’ll do what you want.”

Surprise flared his eyes, followed by smoldering lust. “Damn right you will.”

In a fast move, he leaned over and pressed the tie around my vision. His fingers were soft as he secured the blindfold behind my head, blotting out the soft light of the bedroom. Instantly, my other senses went haywire. Prickling with extra sensitivity and heat.

My eyelashes crushed beneath the restriction, and I swallowed my rising panic as he secured the knot at the back of my head. I winced as he tugged accidentally on my hair.

“Why?” I panted. Without vision, my body became a focal point. My breasts were suddenly heavier, my core suddenly wetter. My heart whizzed faster while my breathing slowed with self-preservation.