Page 89 of The CEO

A shiver runs through me that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with anticipation. “I understand.”

“Do you?” He grips my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze fully. “This isn’t gentle, Eve. This isn’t?—”

“I don’t want gentle,” I interrupt, my voice steadier than I expected. “I want all of you. The darkness too.Especiallythe darkness.”

Without another word, he turns to a cabinet and retrieves a length of black silk rope, letting it slide through his fingers as he returns to me.

“Undress,” he commands, the single word leaving no room for hesitation.

I comply, shedding my clothing with deliberate slowness, aware of his eyes tracking my every movement. When I stand naked before him, he circles me once, assessing, his gaze almost tangible against my skin.

“Your only responsibility is to obey,” Damien continues, his thumb brushing across my lower lip. “Can you do that for me, Eve?”

“Yes.” The word comes easily, naturally, as if I’ve been waiting to say it without realizing.

“Yes, what?” he prompts, his hand sliding from my face to wrap gently around my throat.

Understanding dawns. “Yes . . . sir?”

“Mmm, not quite what I had in mind.”

I search my brain, remembering his words from a moment ago:“I’m your god.”

“Yes . . . Lord.”

Something flashes in his eyes—satisfaction, hunger, something deeper I can’t name. “Good girl.”

The praise sends an unexpected thrill through me, warming my blood and making my pulse race beneath his fingers. He guides me to the large bed, the centerpiece of this private chamber.

“On your back,” he commands, his voice dropping to that register that turns my insides to liquid heat.

I comply, watching as he moves to retrieve something from a cabinet against the wall. He returns with silken restraints, their deep crimson color a stark contrast to the black sheets.

“Arms above your head,” he instructs, waiting for me to position myself before securing my wrists to the headboard. The restraints are soft against my skin—tight enough to restrict movement without causing pain.

“Do you know what ‘edging’ is, Eve?” he asks, his fingers trailing down my arms to my shoulders, barely touching them yet leaving trails of fire in their wake.

I shake my head, inexplicably embarrassed by my ignorance. “No.”

His smile is both tender and predatory. “It means I’m going to bring you to the edge of orgasm, repeatedly, without letting you cross over.” His hand continues its path down my body, between my breasts, across my stomach. “I’ll keep you suspended in that exquisite moment where pleasure becomes almost unbearable, where your body begs for release that I’ll deny . . . until I decide you’ve earned it.”

My breath catches at his description, a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty coursing through me. “I don’t know if I can?—”

“You’ll need a safe word,” he interrupts, his hand stilling on my hip. “Something you would never say during sex that will stop everything immediately if you use it.”

The fact that he’s giving me this control, this escape hatch, sends a rush of trust through me that’s almost more intimate than the physical contact.

“Orchid,” I decide. It’s the first thing that comes to mind—beautiful, rare, and something I’d never cry out in passion.

“Orchid it is.” He nods, his expression serious. “If you say it, everything stops immediately. No questions, no hesitation. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Lord.”

“Good.” His hand resumes its exploration, dipping between my thighs to find me already wet. “Do you trust me, Eve?”

The question hangs between us, weighted with significance beyond this moment, beyond this bed.

“Yes,” I whisper, the simple truth laying me bare in ways the restraints never could.

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