I shook my head. “Has to be something neither of us would use normally during sex at all. Like a color or something.”
Grinning, he said, “I don’t think I’ve ever had cause to say ‘stop’ during sex with you.”
“You know what I mean.” I laughed. “There has to be a big different between ‘stop that’ and ‘stop everything’.”
“Okay, how about…” He thought for a second. “Cigarette?”
I shrugged. “Works for me.” Nervous smoker. Thinking about smoking. Yeah, I’m definitely making him nervous. I cleared my throat. “You sure you’re okay with this?”
“As sure as I’ll ever be.” He gave me a reassuring smile.
I inhaled slowly, hoping he didn’t see my own nervousness. Though he seemed less uncertain now, I couldn’t say the same about myself. Was this really a good idea? I’d never done BDSM unless I was one hundred percent certain that I had the other person’s trust. But in this case, I could think of no other way to gain his trust than to ask for it this way-make him take the leap of faith out of his comfort zone-and not take advantage of it.
Yet I was the one who was nervous. This could blow up in my face so easily, almost too easily. A wrong move. Pushing him too far. Even letting him sense my own worries. This could be five steps forward or ten back.
Do not fuck this up, I warned myself.
“Give me your hand,” I said quietly.
Without even flinching, he did so, extending the arm closest to me. I held his wrist gently, my eyes flicking back and forth between his arm and his face in search of a sign, any sign, that he wasn’t as comfortable with this as he let on, but he gave me nothing. No subtle recoil when I touched him, no goose bumps when the cuffs creaked open, no bob of the Adam’s apple or sweep of the tongue across his lips.
The knot in my gut loosened. Maybe he really is okay with this. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea.
Then the cuff touched his wrist.
Twin shudders rippled up his arm and spine, ending in a sharp intake of breath. He swallowed hard, and his eyebrows jumped as his gaze darted toward the cuff, which was still open. Pressed against his skin, probably colder to him than it was to me, but open.
I looked at him, making no move to bind him until he gave me the go-ahead. “You okay?” I asked.
Warily, he eyed the space between us where hands and metal intersected, the crossroads that seemed to have caught him off guard. It was a simple thing, a thin piece of metal encircling his wrist, but it put him at my mercy. Under my control. For someone as unpleasantly acquainted with trust as Nathan, it was a simple but terrifying thing.
His arm didn’t move. Neither did my hands. I needed him to tell me whether to proceed or back away. I had a feeling he needed me to tell him which way to go. We’d reached an impasse. A stalemate.
His Adam’s apple bobbed again. The unspoken safe word hung in the air, waiting to be said.
I started to speak, but his other hand moved. Slowly, but not hesitantly, he reached across to where our hands were still in suspended animation. His fingers nudged mine away from the open cuff and panic lodged my breath in my throat. Shit, shit, I shouldn’t have-
Metal creaked. Clicked.
I looked down just as he moved his free hand away.
He’d closed the cuff around his own wrist.
Our eyes met briefly. I took a breath and nodded toward his hand, then the headboard. He raised his hand over his head, letting it rest on the pillow. The other cuff clanged against one of the slats. Nathan shivered, but he seemed to try to suppress it. He was nervous, but willing. Uneasy, but still here.
I laced the other cuff between the vertical slats, then brought it around and gestured for him to give me his free hand. With only the slightest hint of reluctance, he obeyed.
I closed the cuff around his wrist, tightening it enough to prevent him from slipping his hand free, but still leaving some room for him to move.
“Is that comfortable?” I asked.
He gulped. “Comfortable isn’t the word I’d use.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah.” He paused, glancing up at the silver shackles around his wrists. With less certainty than before, he added, “It’s fine.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded. “So, um…” He cleared his throat, probably trying to hide his nerves. “What exactly are you planning to do?”
“Do you trust me?”
He hesitated, straining to look at his bound hands. “Yes.”
I bent to kiss him. “Then don’t worry about it.” I knew it unsettled him, the vulnerability of restraint, but whether he knew it or not, he was more in control than I was. Any control he surrendered, he did so willingly. The more he surrendered, the longer he let me bind him this way, the more he’d understand that I wouldn’t hurt him. If he could grasp that physically, maybe he’d understand it emotionally, too.
Still, I wasn’t in this to completely freak him out. I guided his fingers to the quick release on each side of the handcuffs. “If you want to open them, just push that switch.” I did exactly that, and the cuff fell open. With just that momentary freedom, or simply the knowledge that an easy escape was close by, his entire body relaxed. Even when I fastened the bracelet around his wrist again, only some of the nervous tension returned.
His thumb wandered over the release tab, testing it, though not enough to actually open the cuff. Then his eyes darted toward me. “Isn’t that what the safe word is for?”
“It is,” I said. “But the safe word only works if you say it and I comply with it-” His eyebrows jumped, his body tensing and his thumb pressing a little harder on the release. I quickly added, “Which, of course, I will. But this way…” I nodded toward his hands. “You have a way out that’s within your control.”
At that, he visibly relaxed. He exhaled and laced his fingers together, evidently satisfied that his escape switch was close enough for his comfort. I took that as a good sign.
“Guess you get to be in control this time.” He laughed nervously as I sat up.
“Sort of,” I said.
“Sort of?”
I ran my fingertips down his chest and abs, biting my lip when his muscles quivered at my touch. “Handcuffs or no,” I said, “I’m never completely in control when I’m around you.”
“If you-” He sucked in a breath as my fingers trailed over his hipbone. “If you haven’t been, then you’ve been fooling me.” There as an almost imperceptible lilt in his voice, a nervous sound, as if he was searching for uncertainty in me. Or reassurance that he hadn’t just agreed to surrender control to someone who was on the verge of losing it himself.
I leaned over him and kissed his neck. “Believe me, Nathan,” I growled against his throat. “I’m lucky I can breathe when you’re around.” Kissing my way up to the underside of his jaw, I said, “I haven’t been completely in control since the day you walked into The Epidauran.”
He let out a ragged breath. “So I’m not the only one.”
“Not even close.” I kissed him, then worked my way back down his neck. “And having you like this…” I flicked my tongue across his collarbone, laughing softly when he shivered. “…having you completely at my mercy…” I ran my tongue around his nipple. “…is hotter than you can fucking imagine.”
Another breath and another shiver, but it was different this time. Arousal, not nervousness. Still teasing his nipple with my tongue, I let my hand drift down his side and rest on his hipbone. The tip of my thumb followed the groove between his hip and thigh, running back and forth, barely touching, stopping just shy of his cock every time. His body trembled every time my thumb came close, and he growled with frustration every time it drew away.