I had never felt so vulnerable in my life.
My wrists rested against the cushion above my head, bound loosely but firmly in silk. My body was laid out for him, not in shame, but in a way that made me feel like I was being studied, admired, and claimed all at once. Every inch of me was aware of him, of the way he moved, of the air shifting whenever he drew closer.
The city glowed behind me, lights glittering through the towering glass windows, but all I could see was Branson. He knelt beside the chaise, calm, precise, his gaze sharp enough to slice through my thoughts. There was nothing hurried in him, nothing frantic, no sign of a man rushing toward some selfish desire. He was stillness and power embodied.
My heart thudded painfully against my ribs, and he must have seen the panic flicke
