Chapter Twenty-Five: The First Surrender

Her fingertips hovered above him, trembling, unsure. The tension in the room was so thick she thought it might suffocate her.

She could touch him anywhere, his chest, his jaw, that sinful line disappearing beneath his brief, but her hand drifted lower, almost against her will. Slowly, cautiously, she reached for his foot.

Her palm brushed over the arch, tentative, featherlight. Liam’s breath hitched, the smallest sound, but his eyes never wavered from hers. Heat shot up her arm as though she’d touched fire.

She traced down to his heel, her thumb brushing the curve of bone. Then up again, over the top of his foot, feeling the veins, the warmth, the life thrumming beneath his skin.

Her heart hammered. What am I doing?

Her throat tightened as shame crashed into her desire. She snatched her hand back, holding it to her chest as though burned. “This is... God, Liam, this is wrong.”

But Liam only leaned back against the leather, muscles flexing under the straps, a dangerous smile curving his mouth. His voice was low, steady, intoxicating.

“Sarah…” he drawled, his tone velvet and fire all at once, “there’s nothing wrong with what you want.”

Her eyes widened, breath unsteady.

“Sexual pleasure,” he continued, gaze boring into her, “has its own individuality. There is no wrong sexual fantasy. No shame in craving. No sin in wanting.”

The words slipped into her veins like liquid heat.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly. His calm, commanding reassurance unraveled her defenses, and yet… the war inside her only grew louder. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to touch him again. She wanted to explore every forbidden inch of him.

Her fingers twitched at her side, itching to reach out, to trace those hard calves, those thighs, the taut lines of muscle leading up.

She bit down on her lip so hard it almost hurt. Don’t. Don’t give in.

But Liam’s voice was mercilessly tender, his body bound, his gaze burning through her.

“I’m here for you, Sarah. All of me. Do whatever you desire. Take what you’ve been afraid to admit you want.”

Her knees weakened, her body quivered, and still she hesitated, teetering on the razor’s edge between restraint and surrender.

And Liam, devastating, gorgeous Liam, waited for her, shackled and smiling, the very picture of surrender.

Her pulse thundered, her body trembling like a bowstring stretched to breaking. She wanted to run, to hide from the storm inside her. And yet, her hand disobeyed her mind. Slowly, almost shyly, she reached again.

Her fingertips brushed the top of Liam’s foot, tracing the ridges of tendon and vein. He inhaled sharply, chest rising, lips parting as though that single touch had undone him.

Sarah’s breath stuttered. He’s reacting to this?

She let her palm slide over his arch, the heat of his skin radiating against her. Her nails grazed lightly, a barely scrape and that’s when she heard it.

A sound. Low. Rough. A grunt swallowed into his throat.

Her stomach flipped violently. Heat curled deep inside her.

Bolder now, she dragged her fingers down to his heel, then up again, over his instep, circling delicately at the sensitive hollow beneath his ankle. Liam’s toes flexed, curling and uncurling, his bound legs shifting against the restraints.

He bit his lower lip, eyes dark with fire, but his body betrayed him.

Another sound slipped free, a sharp, unguarded exhale that was almost a moan.

Sarah’s thighs pressed together instinctively. Her chest heaved with every breath as she inched upward, following the sculpted lines of his calves. Her fingers danced over hard muscle, smoothing up the powerful length, squeezing just slightly, testing.

Liam’s head dropped back against the leather, a guttural groan vibrating out of him. His wrists pulled at the straps as though fighting the urge to reach for her, to grab her, to take control again.

“God, Sarah…” he panted, the sound raw, reverent, undone.

Her hand slid higher, brushing the sharp cut of his knee, then over the corded strength of his thigh. The closer she drew to that black brief, the hotter her skin burned, the more her breath shook.

She hesitated. Trembled.

But Liam’s eyes locked on hers, blazing with heat, his voice ragged.

“Don’t stop.”

Her fingers obeyed before her mind could argue. She pressed higher, her palm gliding over the tense, unyielding muscle of his inner thigh. His reaction was immediate, his toes curled hard, his hips twitching against the restraints, a moan tearing from his throat as he bit down on his lip until it whitened.

Every sound, every movement, every twitch of his body was a confession. She was unraveling him.

And the knowledge made her dizzy with power, terrified with hunger.

Her hand lingered there, so close, trembling on the edge of forbidden territory.

Liam’s chest rose and fell in harsh, uneven pulls, sweat glinting faintly at his temple. His voice was barely more than a plea.

“Touch me, Sarah… wherever you want. I’m yours.”

The words, the sight of him, shackled, beautiful, writhing because of her, detonated something inside her.

Her hand slid an inch higher.