Page 66 of Burning for You

With a cactus-arm position, he makes sure I see the penknife is far from any part of me. He then rounds the bed and uses the penknife to cut my left wrist free.

“Now you’re untying me?” I say.

He stops. “Do you want to stay bound?”

If he fucks me again, yes. But I don’t think he’s gonna. “Please, untie me.”

“I didn’t want you to do anything stupid while I was in the shower.”

My lover boy cuts my other bond.

Lover boy? Earlier I think I called him ‘baby.’ He is kind of my lover boy, because he’s damn cute, and he fucked me like life had no consequences. At the same time, he made love to me like a real man—as if we’d been through enough ups and downs to understand each other without words, without even a gaze. So neither ‘baby’ nor ‘lover boy’ quite accurately describes what Levi is to me. What do you call such a man?

He continues, “Besides, you could’ve easily killed my brother and snuck out.”

“And now you trust me?”

His eyes cling to me. “I know now, you won’t leave.”

Of course I won’t. I’m too full of him to even try to leave his bed.