Emma's breath hitched as Damien's fingers closed around her wrist, guiding her deeper into the dimly lit warehouse. The air hummed with anticipation, thick with the scent of leather and Damien's intoxicating cologne.
Her pulse thundered in her ears as she took in the space- the plush lounges, the bar lined with expensive liquor, and the far wall adorned with an array of equipment that made her cheeks burn. Ropes. Silk ties. A sleek, padded bench.
Oh god.
Damien's thumb traced slow circles against her inner wrist, his voice a dark caress. "Nervous?"
Emma swallowed. "Should I be?”
His lips curved, slow and sinful. "That depends." He stepped closer, his body a wall of heat against hers. "Do you trust me?"
The question hung between them, weighted.
Emma's gaze flickered to the restraints
