Nicholas gathered her hair gently in one hand and swept it over her shoulder before lifting the blindfold with the other. He didn't rush. His movements were deliberate, reverent, like he was dressing her for a ceremony only the two of them would witness.
"You trust me?" he asked softly, his voice brushing against the shell of her ear.
Ella nodded, already breathless. "Yes."
"Say it."
"I trust you."
Something changed in his expression at that. A flicker of quiet heat deepened behind his eyes. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the center of her forehead—then slipped the silk over her eyes.
Darkness fell gently, like dusk.
Her world narrowed to touch and breath, to the rustle of sheets and the warm heat of Nicholas's body shifting next to hers. She felt the knot of the blindfold tighten behind her head, firm but not uncomfortable. Just enough to remind her: she'd given him control.
And God, did that thought thrill her.
