She’d just about decided he had run for cover when he returned, striding through her door as though he belonged there, a pair of handcuffs in his hand.
Handcuffs.
Her eyes bugged out as she stared openmouthed at him.
“Who the hell carries handcuffs around with them unless they’re a cop?” she demanded.
The corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Never know when one might need them.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you into kink? That dominant stuff Dash and Tate are involved in? Are you like them?”
His gaze was level and he seemed unruffled by her suspicion.
“I can assure you I am not like them. I’m me. Jensen. I don’t need or have any desire to model my desires after another or to emulate others. What Dash and Tate do is their own business, between them and their partners. Just as what I do, what I need and desire, is my own.”
“You want me to use those. On you,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper.
He sat down beside her, his fingertips grazing the skin from her shoulder to her elbow. Even through the material of her pajamas the heat from his touch scalded her.
“What I want is for you to feel safe,” he corrected. “And if this enables you to feel safe. With me. Then yes, that is exactly what I want you to do. Handcuff me to your bed.”
Did it make her a raving lunatic to give consideration to his bizarre proposition? But she didn’t want him to leave. She didn’t want to be alone. She’d been alone for so very long. Just one night she wanted what he promised. Peace. A respite from fear and the agony of her dreams. A source of comfort, one he was selflessly offering her. Would she be a fool to refuse him?
“Perhaps just one hand,” she murmured. “I wouldn’t want you to be too uncomfortable.”
His eyes gleamed, the only outward sign of his triumph. He remained still and silent, almost as if he were waiting for her to change her mind and back out. She wasn’t a coward and she was trying damn hard to stop being so weak. It was one night. And he’d be handcuffed to her bed. Even so, she didn’t believe for a single minute that he’d ever harm her. Her heart knew that, but her mind was firmly entrenched in self-preservation. Her mind was screaming at her to make him leave. Her heart and mind were at constant odds when it came to this man. An unusual occurrence since they normally were in perfect alignment. Trust no one. It had long been her mantra. Only now, her heart was sending different signals than her brain and the battle was exhausting.
“Do you have anything to wear?” she asked awkwardly.
“I can sleep in my clothes.”
Her brows furrowed. “But what about tomorrow? The meeting, I mean. I know how important it is. I don’t want to screw it up for you, Jensen.”
“I’ll get up early enough to go home and shower and change and then I’ll come back by to pick you up,” he said easily.
“Uhm . . . okay,” she finally conceded and then closed her eyes, wondering what had possessed her. Maybe she was finally losing what little of her sanity she’d retained.
He kicked off his shoes and then unbuttoned the neck of his shirt and slipped his belt off, tossing everything to the side. Then he motioned for her to slip underneath the covers. He moved to the other side, careful to keep distance between them even as he slid underneath the covers with her. Then, facing her, he lifted his left arm and extended the cuffs to her with his right hand, motioning for her to secure his wrist to the headboard.
Dear God, had it really come to this? That she couldn’t have a man in bed with her without handcuffing him so he was no threat? She wished she was brave enough to tell him it wasn’t necessary. The rational part of herself told her it was exactly what she should do. And not return his generosity and his care of her with mistrust. But the irrational part that controlled so much of her thoughts and actions told her she’d be a fool not to ensure her safety.
Carefully she cuffed his wrist to one of the slats of the headboard and then leaned back, biting into her bottom lip.
“It doesn’t look comfortable,” she said in consternation.
“I’ll survive,” he said dryly. “I’ve slept in far worse conditions.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
He glanced curiously at her, reaching out to touch her chin with his free hand. “What are you sorry for, baby?”
She closed her eyes. “That I’m not brave enough to let you sleep here without the handcuffs. That I’m too much of a coward to refuse your unselfish gesture. I’m the selfish one, Jensen. I’m sorry I’m not as strong as you.”
His expression gentled as he cupped her chin, brushing the pad of his thumb over her jaw.
“It’s a start that you’re even allowing me in your bed, with or without handcuffs. I’ll take that gift, no matter how it’s given.”
She flushed at the promise in his voice. The promise that he’d be there again, that there would be another occasion and that this wasn’t a freak occurrence. No, it wouldn’t happen again. She wouldn’t let it. She’d agreed to this lunacy in a moment of weakness. The weakness she loathed so much. Because she didn’t want to be alone for just one night.
But she wouldn’t allow it again.
“Ready for lights-out?” she asked lightly.
He nodded, his gaze still on her like a warm blanket.
She reached behind her to turn off the lamp and then turned back, snuggling under the covers, trying not to focus on the fact that Jensen was mere inches away. She could hear his soft breathing. Could feel his warmth reaching out to her, enfolding her in its tender embrace.
“Going to get the closet light too?” he asked.
She was glad it wasn’t light enough that he could see her embarrassed flush.
“No,” she said quietly. “I leave it on. I don’t like to sleep in total darkness. Does it bother you?”
“Anything that brings you comfort doesn’t bother me,” he said, further baffling her with his statement.
The man was twisting her in knots. For weeks he’d baited her, annoyed her, pissed her off, and now he was treating her so very gently. As if she was something precious and fragile. She was in way over her head and despite what he’d said about giving her complete control tonight, she felt anything but in control. Her mind—and heart—were in utter chaos. Her head was spinning so fast it was a wonder she could even breathe. No, she definitely was not in control.