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think of how thoroughly he’d controlled her body and how much she’d liked it.
    Emotionally, however—when it came to Sawyer Burrows—she was still a tangled-up mess. It was clear that he still affected her on a soul-deep level that frightened her, considering how carelessly he’d played with her heart and left her reeling in the aftermath of his betrayal.
    And she’d do well to remember that.
    *     *     *
    Holy fucking shit . It took Sawyer longer than normal to gain his bearings, but then again, he’d never come so fucking hard in his life, in a way that left him wasted and addicted to everything about the woman beneath him. Unfortunately, he was pretty sure she didn’t feel the same. He might have been able to persuade her to indulge in a bit of bondage and domination, but phenomenal sex and multiple orgasms didn’t erase his past transgression or earn him her forgiveness. No, that was something he knew would take time along with proof that he’d never hurt her again.
    Concerned that his weight was too much for her, he moved off of Paige, then removed her bound hands from the clip attached to the headboard. “Roll onto your back so I can untie your hands,” he murmured gently.
    She did as he asked, and he sat up beside her, very much aware of the fact that he was still wearing his pants. He’d been so damn hot and anxious to get inside of her that he’d only pushed them low enough to release his cock. But she didn’t notice his state of undress, because she wouldn’t look his way, even as he worked to free her wrists. Where a moment ago she’d been soft and supple and sated beneath him, she was now quiet, her body tense.
    The rope fell away, and he winced when he saw the red chafe marks they’d left behind because of how hard she’d pulled on the restraints—but not because she’d wanted free. No, her thrashing had been all about desire and need, not pain, and that wasn’t arrogance speaking. He’d been keenly aware of just how aroused she’d been throughout each and every erotic thing he’d done to her, and how much she’d enjoyed his more aggressive tactics. She’d responded beautifully to his demands. Without hesitation. Without a struggle. Without any resistance.
    Until now. Now, she was back in her head, thinking and analyzing, and none of what had just happened between them mattered when compared to the unforgettable memory of how he’d devastated her. Absolutely nothing could compete with that.
    Ignoring the cramping in his belly, he reached out to grab her hands so he could rub her wrists and make sure her circulation was okay, but she quickly pulled her arms away and massaged the light abrasions herself, making it clear that touching her, in any way, was no longer acceptable now that they were done playing games.
    “Are you okay?” he asked, more gruffly than he’d intended.
    “I’m fine,” she replied, her tone frustratingly polite.
    But she wasn’t fine. She still wouldn’t meet his gaze, and he had to resist the urge to touch her chin and turn her face toward him so he could look into her eyes and get a sense of what, exactly, she was feeling or thinking.
    Figuring she might need a minute alone to gather her composure, he decided to go and clean up. “I’ll be right back,” he said and headed into the adjoining bathroom. He closed the door, disposed of the condom, and zipped his pants back up. While washing his hands, he glanced into the mirror above the sink, remembering Paige’s beautifully flushed face and the wild hunger in her eyes as he’d sunk so fucking deep inside her pussy. Remembering the way she’d screamed in ecstasy when she’d come for him that last time.
    God, she was so damned perfect, and she hated him.
    Knowing he had a long way to go to make amends, but determined to make some kind of headway tonight while he had her alone, he dried his hands and returned to the playroom. She’d already put her panties back on and was zipping up her