Page 28 of For Your Heart
His breath catches.
“But you’re still so damn wiggly. We’re going to have to do something about that.”
He nods, his eyes unfocused. Grinning at how easy it is to get him ready for sex, I pull him back to what we’re doing. The closet is seriously filled with every kind of puzzle—normal cardboard, wood, wooden shapes, 3D of different materials. There’s even a few paper and metal ones. “Which is your favorite?”
Sage blinks a few times and turns his attention back to the closet. “I want you to choose one.”
I could just choose at random, but I think I’ve upset him enough tonight by checking out of us fucking to mentally be with someone else. His hurt actually bothers me. I don’t want to do that again. He’s already self-conscious about his puzzles.
I take a few minutes and pull some out, looking at the picture and the piece count. Their shapes. I finally choose one that’s shaped like a sea turtle with lots of little images inside. The way Sage beams at me has me smiling.
Ten
SAGE
I don’t talkto Jordan and River about Damon again, even when they bring him up. I know that I’m making mistakes on many levels. Damon told me that he isn’t in a position to give me anything more than sex. He said it outright. I believe him. I really, truly do. Everything I’ve observed about him since he stepped foot in the gym on his first day supports that.
Which is why I’m constantly kicking myself when I ask him to hang out. He almost always agrees, something that delights me to no end. It gets my hopes up that there could be something more.
Our evenings together always involve sex. He’s gone back to using my ties because he doesn’t like how the rope chafes. I’m not upset about the change back because my wrists were sore for weeks. The way it rubbed my skin raw was not fun.
There’s something stupidly exciting about him tying me up. It’s thrilling. To be restrained. To be at his mercy. I love everything about it.
I love spending time with Damon. Even though I shouldn’t love it as much as I do. I know that. I know I’m setting myself up for heartache becauseI knowthat this time we spend together means something very different to me than it does to him.
But I can’t stop myself. Not from staring at him while we work. When he catches me, I blush furiously, even as he smirks and goes back to what he’s doing. We talk at work now. Joke a little. Sometimes, we even hang out at work, having our clients close so we can talk while they do whatever we tell them to.
I love the easy way we’ve kind of fallen into this routine. Every afternoon when we get off work, he tells me if he’ll be over or not. Most of the time, he is. Sometimes he comes by after he stops at home.
But in all this time we’re spending together, I know very little about him. I know he has a brother he’s close with. They’re roommates. I know he recently finished his degree, and that’s what brought him to Glensdale. I know that something that hurt him deeply recently went down in his life and that’s why he’s so angry.
He’s still angry but I think he’s learning to deal with it better. I’d like to think that maybe my proposition for sex helped with that. That might be a little arrogant on my part, but maybe, right?
That’s all I know, though. To be fair, we don’t spend time talking about our personal lives. We talk sex and puzzles. We talk work and fitness and nutrition. My favorite thing is when we collaborate on ideas concerning work. Different regimens and routines. It’s fun to see what we learned differently and how our ideas work together.
The first Saturday in October, I’m woken by my bed moving. My eyes fly open with my heart racing as I think someone’s here to murder me. I laugh in hysteric relief to find Damon crawling onto my bed. “You really should lock your doors,” he says.
“I—” I don’t even know why I didn’t. Were my hands full last night? Did I not follow Damon out and lock up behind him? “I don’t know what happened, but I swear, I normally do. Right after I walk in!” I don’t add because if I don’t, there’s no barrier between me and my mother. She’ll barge right in.
“Hmm,” he answers as he slowly strips off his clothes in front of me. My gaze is locked on how he’s revealing his sexy skin. My mouth salivates. I want to lick him. So badly! Why haven’t I licked him yet?
“Stop touching yourself,” he says, and my hand freezes where it’s wrapped around my dick. I hadn’t even noticed I started, but I pull my hand away. He nods in approval. “So, I’ve been doing some research,” he says and reaches for a bag I hadn’t seen until just then. He pulls two lengths of rope.
Not the rough kind. These almost look like paracord. But thicker. One is purple and the other is green.
“Want to try this with me?” he asks.
I throw my blankets off and nod excitedly. The idea of being restrained by him is fucking exhilarating. My dick leaks as if there’s an extra hole in it.
Damon nods and pulls out his phone. I watch without seeing the screen as he pokes around and then props it on the pillow next to me. “I’ve never tied someone up like this before, so it’s probably going to be a little rough. You trust me?”
“Yes!” I say as I hover in front of him on my knees.
He chuckles and has me kneel on my haunches. I watch, mesmerized, as his hands move the ropes over my skin. Sometimes he’ll stop and study the picture. Sometimes his attention moves between the screen and the ropes. Every few minutes, he’ll look at my eyes and check in. Making sure it doesn’t hurt anywhere.
I know I shouldn’t be falling for him right now, but the way he’s so conscious about how he’s tying me and how I feel about it just does things to me. I’ve never had that before. It was always me checking in. To make sure she’s happy or why she’s upset. What I can do to make it better. If something feels good.
There’s never been anyone to ask me these questions in return. Never.
