The silk blindfold slipped off Dean’s face, dropping over his chest and pooling onto the dark hardwood floor.
Dean blinked hard against the sudden light, his pupils contracting as he adjusted to the warm amber glow of candles mounted along the brick walls. Shadows danced across leather straps, iron rings, and restraint bars. But his gaze didn't linger on the dungeon. It traveled upward.
Past the heavy leather boots resting inches from his knees. Past the broad chest clad in a dark, fitted shirt stretched tight over broad shoulders. Up to a sharp, square jaw, a stern mouth set in a hard line, and a pair of cold, silver-specked dark eyes framed by heavy brows.
Dean’s breath locked in his throat. The air left his lungs all at once, as if he had been struck in the chest with a sledgehammer.
