As I watch, he reaches into the dresser drawer and removes three more ties. Then he turns and saunters over to me. My stomach squirms uncomfortably.
Lukas loops the first silk tie around my left wrist. The fabric is cool against my skin, and deceptively soft for something that holds so firmly. He threads the ends around one mahogany post and pulls tight.
I tug instinctively, but the knot doesn’t budge.
“Good,” he says with a satisfied nod.
He does it again with the right wrist. Then he steps down to my feet and fastens first one, then the other, to the other two posts of the bed.
When he’s finished, he straightens and looks down at me. I’m tied up, one limb per post, spread-eagled and confused.
Then he reaches out with one hand. A single, rough fingertip touches my throat.
I swallow
