Page 48 of No Strings Attached
His hands slide beneath the hem of my dress, dragging up the sides of my waist, taking the last bits of my self-control with them. I moan into his mouth. He growls into mine.
He grabs my hips, lifts me clean off the counter, and carries me down the hallway, our drinks forgotten.
In the bedroom, he throws me onto the bed, and I bounce on the mattress, my hair spilling across the pillows.
Henson’s chest rises and falls, eyes dark and locked on me. “Don’t move.”
He’s already walking away, opening drawers, checking closets. A man on a mission.
“What are you looking for?”
He glances at me over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin that’s all wicked heat.
“You’ll see.”
He rifles through my drawers with far too much confidence for someone who doesn’t live here anymore, then pauses, slowly turning something over in his hands.
My silky black scarf.
He moves to the edge of the bed, that grin curving into something hungrier.
“Take off your dress and put your arms above your head.”
I freeze. My body thrums. My legs squeeze together instinctually.
“Henson—”
“Amira,” he scolds, and I immediately slip off my dress and lift my arms, wrists crossing over the headboard.
“Choose a safe word, baby.”
I swallow hard. “Billionaire.”
Henson chuckles. The mattress dips as he climbs up beside me, tying the scarf tight. The fabric presses firm against my skin, and when I test it, it holds.
“Good girl.”
The praise wrecks me.
He leans down and kisses me before pulling back and lifting something else into my line of sight.
My sleep mask.
Oh, God.
“You trust me?”
I nod.
“Words, Mira.”
“Yes,” I breathe. “I trust you.”
He slips the mask over my eyes, plunging the room into velvet black. My senses sharpen instantly—every sound, every brush of air, every shift on the mattress amplified.
I feel his mouth on my neck first. Hot, open kisses that trail down, nipping just beneath my collarbone.
Then he moves lower, snapping off my bra.
