"Shh…" Greg murmured, pressing his index finger against her lips, his touch featherlight yet commanding. "Be quiet. Stay still."
But Cammy couldn't. Her instincts fought against submission, her fingers twitching as she tried to pull her wrist free—only to feel the soft, velvety rope constrict tighter against her skin.
A smirk ghosted across Greg's lips. "The more you struggle, the tighter it gets." His voice was low, dark, edged with amusement as he straightened, putting distance between them.
Cammy exhaled sharply, ceasing her resistance. "I can see that," she admitted, her voice softer now, filled with something unspoken. Instead, she let her gaze follow him as he moved, standing tall at the foot of the bed.
He watched her—devoured her. His eyes, dark and brimming with hunger, roamed over her restrained form as if committing every inch of her to memory.
