“Take off your clothes, Violet.” He smiles, his gaze roving over me, hungry and unfettered. “At least the dress. For now.”

No man has ever demanded that I strip in front of him. Usually they undress me. Or it’s a hurried frenzy of pulling off clothes in bed, in the dark, whatever, eager to get naked quick.

So this feels … odd. As if I’m putting myself on display for him.

Which I am.

I’m wearing a wrap dress—a purposeful decision since I knew what was going to happen today—and I reach for the knot at my waist and slowly pull it free. The fabric gapes with the movement and I undo the tie completely so that the dress falls open, revealing slivers of my skin. My breasts, my belly, my legs.

Ryder never takes his gaze away from me. He leans against the edge of his desk, his arms crossed in front of his chest again, his head bent to the side. Observing me like he’s studying a science project.

I shrug the dress off my shoulders and it falls into a heap at my feet. I not only chose the dress for today, but also my lingerie. He’d asked for something sexy and I hope I delivered.

Pray that I delivered.

His gaze lights up as it skims over me and rests on my chest. “Nice bra.”

I glance down. My breasts strain against the thin fabric, cream silk trimmed with black lace, my nipples hard and poking against the lace. The panties match, cut in a bikini style that covers more than reveals. I feel sexy every time I wear the set, which isn’t often. I bought them on a whim while out shopping with my sisters. Lily convinced Rose and me to buy something frilly and indulgent. Not for the men in our lives, Lily had said, giving me a pointed look because I was the only one who had a serious boyfriend. But for us.

I wore the set a few times. Once when I had a particularly difficult meeting and I’d needed to feel confident in my femininity when facing a bunch of old men who don’t necessarily understand the cosmetics industry. Another time I wore it for a date with Zachary. He hadn’t even noticed, hadn’t even complimented my choice in lingerie. Did we even have sex that night?

I’m not sure. I don’t remember. How sad is that?

So I shoved the bra-and-panty set into the back of my dresser drawer, forgotten. Until I had a minor panic attack last night over what I should wear for Ryder. He wanted something sexy, something that would slay him …

“Take it off.”

I blink him into focus. “What?”

“Your bra.” He waves a hand at me. “Take it off, Violet.”

My fingers shaking, I reach behind me to undo the clip on my bra. I fumble with it, feeling many times the fool as he levels me with that cool, noncommittal stare. He appears completely unfazed by my standing in front of him almost naked. But I can feel his eyes on me. Lingering and hot, almost like a physical caress.

“My panties next?” I ask, letting the bra dangle from my fingertips before I drop it onto the floor.

“Yeah.” His voice is faint and he clears his throat. Another tell that he’s not as unaffected as he appears.

A tiny surge of power runs through me and I take a few steps toward him, so close I can smell his cologne, see the way his lids lower over his eyes as he not-so-discreetly drinks me in. “Do you want to help me?”

He slowly shakes his head. “You seem perfectly capable of undressing yourself.”

How could I forget he likes the anticipation? I hook my fingers into the waistband of my panties and slowly slide the thin fabric past my hips, down my thighs, until they fall to my feet. Carefully I step out of them and stand tall, completely naked save for my favorite black Louboutins.

“Sit on the couch,” he says the moment my gaze meets his again. “Now.”

I turn and go to the small couch that sits in the corner of his office. It’s more the size of a love seat and a deep, velvety blue color, reminding me of a dark twilight sky. I perch on the edge of it, watching as he goes to his desk and plucks the tie I gave him from the box, holding it stretched out between his hands before he approaches.

Nerves flutter in my belly when he stops directly in front of me. I lift my head, my gaze meeting his for a brief moment before I let it drop to the slash of red he holds in both hands. Fear trickles through me, icy cold, and I wonder what he wants to do to me with that tie.

“We only have forty minutes,” he murmurs, twisting either end of the tie around his fingers. Back and forth, winding the fabric up before letting it unfurl. I watch, mesmerized by his long fingers, the crimson silk so vivid against his skin. “Think that’s enough time for me to make you come?”

I nod shakily, excitement and fear taking away my voice.

“I know for some women it takes … time. They need the buildup. The foreplay. I enjoy that, too, but with our limited schedule …” He lets the tie unfurl completely from one hand, so that the fabric drops like a flag of red surrender in front of my face. “Would you let me tie you up, Violet? So I can do whatever I want to you?”

My mouth is dry. My brain is … completely empty, save for one stark image. Me sprawled on the couch, Ryder’s big body between my legs, the tie wrapped around my hands. “Is th-that what you want?”

He shakes his head, his expression grim, though I swear there’s a light sheen of perspiration on his forehead. I’m glad to see it, because so far there have been minimal clues that he’s even affected by me. “It doesn’t matter what I want. What do you want?”

I lick my lips, searching for an answer. The thought of being tied up, unable to stop him from doing whatever he wants, both excites and terrifies me. I want to say yes. The practical side of me is screaming no, but …