Bound To Him

“Are you ready?” Daniel asked and sat his glass on the table next to his chair.

She counted to ten before answering. She knew the answer at “one” but the little feminine pride she had made her wait nine more seconds.

“Yes.”

If Daniel was pleased by her response, his face didn’t show it. His expression was inscrutable.

He sat forward in his chair. Eleanor studied him as he moved. It seemed he was looking only at his own right hand. He fanned his fingers out, gazed at his own palm. His hand curled tight into a fist. But it was the sound of his fingers snapping, loud and unexpectedly sharp, that really demanded her attention. He snapped and pointed at the floor. She responded with well-trained obedience, rising off the rug and kneeling again at his feet.

She inhaled as he laid a hand on the side of her face. His thumb caressed her cheek.

“I won’t kiss you if that makes you uncomfortable.”

“To be honest, I think not kissing would make it worse.”

“Honest,” he repeated. “Yes, be honest. It’