Then I’m spun round so that I’m facing the door, and he grabs both of my hands and stretches them up against the door frame. He’s pressed up against me, his knees wrapped around my legs so I can’t move an inch from my lower thighs downwards. The silken tie slips around my arms unnoticed until too late, and he has it around my wrists in some kind of nautical knot that’s so complicated that Houdini wouldn’t get out of it. The sound, the heat, of his breath is in my ear, his lips brush against it as he ties my wrists to the door handle.
“You have a safe word. I’m not sure you’ve remembered up to now. Use it if you need to.” He whispers so softly in my ear that it almost makes me cry. It hadn’t even occurred to me to use it earlier. I wanted to be sure that we would reach the room. I needed to—what do I need? Would I need it now?