I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I figured, since the hall only goes one direction.”
“You’ve never seen my bedroom.”
“Do you need to go hide teddy bears and Justin Bieber posters before I go in?”
“Don’t be silly. I did that before you came over.”
When I reach the door, I push it open with my hip. I stop and stare, as if I’ve entered a wonderland. A den of femininity. Her bed claims most of the room, and above it shines a string of lights shaped like lotus flowers. On one wall, she’s hung the word Dream in chunky letters, and on another, the letters spelling out Love are illuminated in a bright red sign. One more wall is emblazoned with Create, and the final one says Listen.
All these words are intrinsically her.
“Wow,” I say softly, as I stare. “I feel like I’ve been given the keys.”
She loops her hands tighter around my neck, saying nothing, almost as if she’s holding in words, and maybe emotion, too. My eyes roam the walls, then the bed, and then I do a double take.
Gently, I lower her to the bed, let her go, and walk to the head of the bed. She watches me as I reach for the silky purple fabric. I give it a tug. A scarf is tied to each bedpost at the top.
“So that’s what you did before I came over.”
She nods as she nibbles on her lips. “You did say you wanted to tie me up.”
26
They say a photograph is worth a thousand words.
I’ve never been more tempted to take a photo in my life. But I want to experience all one thousand words that this moment is worth. And then some.
Violet lies naked on her bed, her arms stretched above her head, her right wrist bound by a purple scarf, her left by a red one. The lights from the lotus strands cast a pretty glow across her skin.
I run my hand down her neck, between her breasts, along her stomach. She arches into my touch. My fingers make their way south, teasing at the soft curls of hair, then dipping lower. Her mouth falls open, but before I spend more time in the V of her legs, I stand beside the bed.
“Want to know why I wanted you tied up?”
“Because you like me tied up?”
I laugh as I lift my hands to the hem of my shirt. “That, and to reduce temptation.”
She narrows her eyes. “Seeing me naked and trussed up makes you less interested. Gee, thanks, Coop.”
“No,” I say roughly as I tug off my shirt.
Her breath hitches. “Oh shit.” She stares at me with wide eyes. “You’re . . .”
Yeah, this is why I work out. This is why I run. This is why I lift weights. For this moment. For the look in her eyes. For the heat in her gaze as she stares at my chest, and as she ogles my arms.
“You’re torturing me,” she whimpers.
“How am I torturing you?”
“Because I can’t touch you, and your body is unreal.”
I raise a hand to my pec, drag it down my chest, over the grooves of my abs. I drop my hands to my jeans and undo the first button with a pop.
“Cooper.” Her voice is a plea.
“Yes, Violet?”
“Why can’t I touch you? You’re stunning.”
Every early morning workout was worthwhile. Every bench press has proven its value.
I’m not a narcissist. I don’t need praise. But I’m so goddamn satisfied that she likes what she sees.
Wait.
Make that lust.
She lusts for what she sees.
“You’re pretty stunning yourself,” I say as I unzip my jeans.
She squirms on the bed, her hips lifting. My dick hardens more as I watch her try to somehow pull me closer with the way she offers herself. I push my jeans down my hips to my thighs, then all the way off. Nothing but black boxer briefs. She struggles against the scarves as she stares at the outline of my erection, straining against the fabric. “I want to touch you.”
“I know,” I say, my voice dry. “I want you to touch me. But you tempt me too much.”
“That’s why I’m tied up?”
I step closer, the outline of my cock inches from her face. She turns toward my hard-on, which is pointing at her.
“Yes, because if you touch me, Vi, I swear I’ll lose my mind with pleasure. If you touch me, I’ll have you on your hands and knees so fast so I can fuck you.”
She throws her head back and nearly howls. “Oh God.”
“So this is how it’s going to be. You can look, but I’m the only one who can touch.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “That’s not fair.”
“Baby, it has to be this way,” I say, imploring.
“I know.”
I hook my thumb into the waistband of my briefs and then wiggle a brow. “Did you want me to take these off? I’m not sure.”