Page 95 of Ugly Beautiful Scars

God, please don't let me be totally insane.

I swipe at my cheeks to erase any evidence of tears. My fingers comb through my hair to tame whatever mess my nervous fidgeting created. Finally, I turn the knob.

Sean stands in the hallway like a sculpture of understated strength. Today, his dark-wash jeans are hugging his muscular legs in a way that makes my throat go dry. And he's wearing something other than a t-shirt: a mint-green button-down that works with his blue hair. He's wearing his usual bold combat boots, yet somehow he manages to look completely at ease, like he's exactly where he's meant to be.

Where he wants to be?

But it's his face that steals my complete attention. His blue hair falls in soft bangs over one half of his face, leaving a single warm brown eye to peek out at me. That eye—so perceptive and deep and caring—sees all of me in a heartbeat.

Of course, he notices. I watch his gentle smile fade into concern as he studies my face, seeing the signs of my recent crying.

"Is everything okay?" he asks. "We don't have to—"

"No!" I blurt out because I don't want him to leave. "I mean, yes. Everything is good. Please come in. I'm okay."

As he moves past me, I catch a whiff of his smokey cologne, and it sends butterflies swarming through my stomach, their wings beating against my insides in a way that almost tickles. Sean doesn't rush, doesn't crowd me, just glides into my space likehe's testing the waters with each step. His presence fills the room without overwhelming it. Then his gaze lands on the new folding chair and the duffle bag. His eyebrow arches with a question and a small smirk lifts those kissable lips.

It feels like someone lit my veins on fire. "That's, um, well…" I clear my throat but the explanation is stuck and refusing to come out.

Instead of waiting, Sean crosses to the chair with unhurried steps. He lifts the duffle bag and sets it carefully on the floor. Then he lowers himself into the seat, his hands resting casually on his thighs. His posture is relaxed and legs open.

"Is this where you want me?" he asks.

I swallow, my heart racing. How is he making this awkward situation feel so normal?

I move closer, drawn to him in a way I can no longer resist. "Yes. I thought I could…" With shaking hands, I reach into the duffle bag and pull out a few of the things I ordered—soft nylon ropes and padded handcuffs.

Sean's smirk deepens, the browns of his eyes become more saturated. "Tie me up?"

The way his voice drops makes my thighs clench, and the desire sparking inside me gives my voice strength. "Yes. It'll help me feel safe. Not that I don't trust you. I just don't trust my own reactions and—"

"I get it." His voice is so gentle it nearly breaks me. "Like I said, whatever you need, I'm game." He extends his hand toward me, remaining seated in the chair.

The gesture is so sweet, so non-threatening, and it says so much. I step closer to take his solid hand in mine. His skin is warm, his palm slightly calloused. The touch grounds me.

Standing above him like this, with Sean looking up at me from the chair, creates a shift in the power dynamic. For once, I'm the one in the higher position. The one in control. The director of this scene.

I know he's doing this deliberately, the way he always does. He's making himself smaller and less imposing to give me the advantage. The way he always secretly cares for me fills me with a tenderness so intense it's almost painful.

I hold his hand tighter. "Thank you. Is it okay if we… I mean, I also need some safety words."

"Absolutely. Like what?"

"I read about a color system. Green means I'm okay and we can keep going. Yellow is I'm a little uncomfortable or starting to feel triggered. Red is stop immediately."

His smile is the kind that says he's more than willing for whatever I have in mind. "Give me a color, beautiful."

Beautiful.

My heart flutters again and my jitters disappear. I'm more grounded in these sexy feelings as I run a finger along my lower lip. "Green."

"Then tell me what you want to do."

I set the rope down for now, keeping the handcuffs. "First, we should get you secured. Can you, um…" I motion at his torso.

"Take off my shirt?"

My pussy muscles pulse from the lava in his voice. "Yes. If that's okay."

---