The room was glowing low with amber light, shadows dancing on the walls, but he wasn’t paying much attention. He was already where you wanted him—laid out across your queen bed, wrists tied above his head with silk that still held your perfume. The air was warm, heavy with anticipation, but nothing compared to the look in his eyes.

Hazed. Wanting. Waiting.

You stood at the foot of the bed, still fully clothed, while he lay there—shirtless, breath uneven, cocky confidence beginning to crack under your gaze. You didn’t say a word at first. Just looked at him. Let him feel the weight of your control settle in.

You weren’t always like this.

Once upon a time, you were sweet. Shy. A good girl. You blushed at dirty jokes, said please and thank you, played nice. Before he happened. Before Rafe and his wicked smile, his rough hands, his reckless kisses.

Now look at you.

You climbed onto the bed slowly, one knee at a time, until you were straddling his hips—your palms resting on his chest, your body close enough to feel him shudder beneath you.

“You want a good girl that does bad things to you…” you whispered, letting the words drip from your mouth like honey with a bite. His breath hitched. He looked up at you with that familiar mix of lust and awe that never got old.

You rolled your hips just once—slow, cruel—before pulling back and sliding down his body, your fingers skimming lower, but not nearly far enough. He growled under his breath, tugged at the ties.

And you smiled. The kind of smile that said you were just getting started.

“Tied you down to my queen bed… tease you just enough to hate me…”

You traced a line up his inner thigh with your nail, stopping right before where he really wanted it. His hips bucked, but you stayed just out of reach.

You leaned in, lips barely brushing the shell of his ear, and whispered slower this time—like a promise.

“Tied you down enough… you can’t break free…”

And god, he didn’t want to.