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his head, though I'm not sure
whether he's actually accepting the apology or just acknowledging
it. Man, I was really out of line there. I feel terrible.
    Swallowing hard, I run my hand over his bed,
smoothing out the wrinkles in his white sheets. “As for the
video…would you want to do all of that?”
    “ Not all at once.” His
eyes are the most intense shade of green. “I'd start slowly. BDSM
is about staying safe, sane, and consensual. I wouldn't do anything
you didn't want.”
    “ That sounds
nice.”
    He smiles, and runs the back of his hand
down my cheek. “It is. And we could have that.”
    I close my eyes, savoring the sensation of
him touching me, touching me the way I've always wanted him to. He
rubs my lower lip with his thumb.
    “ May I
demonstrate?”
    That breaks the spell. “What, you mean
now?”
    “ Don't worry,” he says.
“I'm not going to fuck you.” He has a silk tie in his hand, which
he pulls taut as I watch. He must have reached over and gotten it
when I closed my eyes. “I'm going to blindfold you.”
    “ Blindfold?” My voice
sounds like I've just sucked down dangerous amounts of helium. I
wet my lips, and regret it when I see the way his eyes fix on them.
“W-why?”
    I forget my fear when he puts his arms on
the bed, and leans over me, like some lithe beast of prey. He
strokes a finger up my neck, tipping my chin up.
    “ I believe you were
telling me how sorry you were. Well. Now I want you to show
me.”

Chapter Four

    He wants me to show him I'm
sorry.
    “ It isn't going to hurt.”
Tristan is holding the blindfold out like an offering. “I won't be
inflicting any pain.”
    What's the point in persuasion, I wonder,
when he could easily grab me and blindfold me, if that's what he
wants?
    But that isn't what he
wants. Not quite. He wants me to submit to him. He wants me
to willingly hand
over my freedoms, one by one.
    He's waiting for me to tell him it's
okay.
    Is it okay?
    “ Have I ever hurt you?”
Tristan murmurs.
    “ No.”
    “ And I would
never.”
    He slides the silk cloth down my eyes, over
my nose. It feels as cool and slippery as water.
    “ Don't you believe
me?”
    “ Uh-huh…”
    He leans in to cinch the knot, and his firm,
warm chest brushes against my arm.
    “ Do you want me to
stop?”
    Darkness has fallen over my eyes. I shiver,
and Tristan's hands are on my shoulders, rubbing up and down my
arms.
    “ I'm not sure.” My voice
shakes a little. “What are you going to do to me?”
    “ You have to trust me.”
He's still rubbing my arms, but now I feel his warm breath on my
lips. It smells like mint. “Do you trust me to make you feel
good?”
    “ Yes,” I say. I think so.
    “ You don't look very
sure.”
    “ Are you going to clamp
me?”
    “ Do you want me to clamp
you?”
    So he owns a set. Maybe multiple sets. I
shake my head violently, trembling at the savage imagery from the
DVD.
    “ Then no. I won't.” He
stops rubbing my arms but doesn't take his hands away immediately,
and I'm grateful for that. The connection lets me know he's
nearby.
    “ I'll be right
back.”
    And then his footsteps recede as he leaves
me to my own blindfolded devices. There's a fleeting sense of
panic, followed by curiosity. Sitting here, vision obscured, it's
as if all my other senses have become amplified. I can hear the
ticking of his watch, which he must have left on the nightstand,
and the distant roar of an airplane overhead. Or maybe that's just
the sound of my heart in my ears.
    Tristan bustles around in the kitchen, and I
wonder if he's making a lot of noise on purpose so I know where he
is. I'm relieved when he reenters the room—relieved and anxious,
because he's carrying something that rattles alarmingly.
    “ What's that?” I ask,
looking around.
    There's a tug at the collar of my shirt. I
go still, and feel the warmth of his hands at my shoulders again.
He's standing beside the bed, I think. “Kelly,” he says, “I'm going
to take off your