Page 88 of The Photograph

After the main course, I lean in. “I want to hold a press-friendly grand opening of Holloway House following the release of the article byElle Décormagazine.

She blinks slowly. “Oh. Why? I mean…Why?”

Because I want to bring that light back in your eyes.

“You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

A silky strand of hair sweeps over her collarbone as she tilts her head to the side. “It’s a brilliant idea, but I had the feeling that you weren’t particularly open to this kind of invasion of your privacy.”

When the chef clears her plate, she thanks him with a smile, complimenting him for the delicious meal, and turns her gaze back to me.

Reaching across the white linen dressed table, I take her soft hand.

“Because this city really works like a big village, and I want every villager to know I fully endorse your work.”

Her slow smile starts at her lips and lights up her eyes. “All right.”

I get on my feet with her hand in mine. “Do you want a tour of the house before dessert?”

She giggles. “I thought you’d never ask.”

During the stroll through the house, she stops between the doorjamb of the library where I slant my shoulder as she walks in slowly. She grazes the books on the pine and chrome tall shelves with light fingers while the Persian cream and pale blue rug muffles the clack of her heels. The room is windowless, but the six spots lighting on the high ceiling deliver a soft glow to the cozy space on the two deep armchairs.

She twirls toward me with a wide smile. “A daybed. I love it.”

This is one of my favorite rooms, too. I edge closer and tense when she points at the nook in the wall on the side of the daybed.

“Oh. A secret shelf.”

“Baby—”

Before I can stop her, she rounds the bed and pulls a thick volume covered in glossy white paper.

“The Art of Kinbaku,” she whispers and opens the book.

For the next few seconds, the only sound in the room is the soft breath of the pages she flips slowly. Standing behind her, I bury my hands in my pockets.

When she gasps, I peek over her shoulder. The model in the black and white picture is on her knees tied together by a ladder of knots. The light hits the side of her neck curved down and her arms roped together behind her back.

Aelin’s fingers track the ropes curling around the model, and I feel her touch on my cock.

“Baby—”

She exhales slowly. “Do you do this?”

There’s curiosity in her voice. “I have, yes.”

Her fingertip on the legs of the model, she whispers, “Do you get tied up or do you tie up your partners?”

The breathiness of her voice makes me hard, and I touch my mouth to her neck. “I’m the one in control.”

The pulse on her neck quickens under my lips. “This is so sexy,” she murmurs.

Hard as a rock, I brush my mouth to the shell of her ear. “Give me the book, baby.”

She wheels around slowly, hands me the book I drop on the bed. Her eyes shine with need as I track the tip of her tongue peeking out to wet her upper lip. Pulling her flush against me, I peck her mouth. “You want me to tie you up?”

Her arms hook around my neck. “I … yes.”

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