She smiled and turned to shuffle carefully in the direction of the kitchen for those candles. Maybe they’d save Kellen’s toes from utter destruction.

Dawn located several pillar candles and the lighter for the grill and hurried back to the family room. She set the candles on a nearby side table—probably the same one that Kellen’s toe had become acquainted with—and lit all three candles. She placed the nearby lamp on the floor and glanced up at the banister that ran the periphery of the second floor loft. The whimsical rope garland that had charmed her the first time she’d glimpsed it now made her shudder with longing. The candles gave off just enough light for her to see Kellen’s hands freeing the long lengths of blue and tan rope. He was none too gentle with the seashells that had hung from the ropes. Several of them rained down from above.

“Almost got it,” he said after a moment.

She couldn’t see him well, but she imagined he had a perfect view of her standing below the loft, gawking up at him. She was so anxious to get started that a cadence of hurry, hurry, hurry began to sound in her head. Not wanting to appear as desperate as she felt, she grabbed a sheet of score paper and sat at the piano to write down the notes of the now completed composition. Her current favorite because it so reminded her of Kellen and all the things she wished he would do to her. If not tonight, then sometime in the near future.

Using a pencil, she marked the notes quickly, the melody filtering through her head as surely as if she’d been playing it aloud. She’d make the piece look pretty before she sent it off, but she had to get it down. The familiar task calmed her and ate away the time that she’d have spent pacing while she waited for Kellen.

She didn’t realize he was standing behind her until she heard a clink against the floor. She glanced over her shoulder. He was watching her with a look somewhere between fascination and terror.

She tossed her pencil aside and collected the score sheets into a haphazard pile. He seemed to be having second thoughts, but she wasn’t going to let him change his mind. She should have gone up to help him with the rope so he didn’t have time to think of that other woman—Sara.

“Sorry, I interrupted,” he said. “If you need to work, I’ll—”

“No.” She cut him off before he could say leave. She knew that’s what he was going to say, and she wouldn’t let him. “I was just passing the time while I waited for you.”

She stood from the piano bench and leaned over to remove the prop that held the baby grand’s lid open. She carefully lowered the lid and slid her hands over the smooth surface. Her heart was thudding like a jackhammer, but she wasn’t going to chicken out. She always worried about doing the wrong thing, about appearances, about disappointing someone, but tonight she was doing what she wanted to do. For once, she’d forget about the pressures of the outside world and allow this man to set her free by binding her body. She still wasn’t sure what that meant, but she trusted that he was going to show her.

She again turned to him and found him clutching the long coils of rope in front of his crotch. She hoped that meant he was hiding another erection, though he couldn’t possibly be as aroused by her as she was by him.

“Will those ropes work?” she asked, nodding toward his crotch.

“They’re surprisingly soft and supple. Exactly the kind of rope I’d have selected for your first time. It’s almost like…”

“Destiny,” she said.

He smiled and leaned back against the piano for support. “Except I would have chosen a green rope instead of blue, to match the pretty flecks in your hazel eyes.”

He’d noticed her eye color? She loved that he’d been paying that much attention to detail. It meant he was interested. Didn’t it?

“Blue for the ocean,” she said. “Like our song.” She stiffened suddenly. “That’s it.”

“That’s what?”

“The name of our song. Blue. I’ll call it Blue.”

“Doesn’t blue usually mean sad?” he said. “That song is joyous, not blue. It made me feel happier than I’ve felt in five years.”

Her breath caught, and she felt a strange prickling behind her eyes. Her work had touched him that deeply? “It did?”

He nodded.

“What would you call it?” she asked him.

“Dawn.”

“Yes?”

“No, that’s what I’d call it. Dawn.”

She grinned. “Kind of narcissistic to name a song after yourself, isn’t it?”

“But it’s like dawn. A beautiful departure from darkness. The end of the inky night sky. The awakening of light that turns the sky blue again. The beginning of a new day.”

Though her tummy was a jumble of butterflies, she couldn’t tear her gaze from his. She knew he wasn’t just saying strings of pretty words to woo her—though they were quite effective in that regard—but that he really felt what he was saying. And she realized he felt that way about her. She was his dawn. The end of his darkness.

Or maybe she was just wishful thinking.

“Take off your dress,” he said.

Her mouth dropped open in shock. So maybe he wasn’t as romantic as she thought.

“I mean, if you’re ready to begin,” he said.

She was. She just had whiplash from the speed at which he changed gears.

Dawn unfastened the wide belt at her waist, letting the strap of leather fall to the floor.

She grabbed the skirt of the loose dress and took a deep breath before tugging the entire garment over her head. She tossed it aside, standing before him in her white lace bra and panties.

The heat of his gaze made her blush, and a powerful shame drew her hands to cover herself as much as possible.

“Don’t hide,” he said. “You’re beautiful.”

She didn’t feel beautiful. She felt awkward. She’d always hated that she was so tall, that her hips were too narrow, her breasts too small, her shoulders too wide.

“Beautiful,” he said again. “I’ve never bound a woman as tall and slender as you,” he said.

She stared at her dress on the floor, willing it to rise up from its puddle and cover her again. She was certain he’d much rather use a more feminine form for his bondage sculpture. Why had she agreed to this?

His legs entered her line of sight, and the rope he’d been holding landed in a tangle on the floor. She choked back a sob when his hand cupped her shoulder and then slowly slid down the length of her arm. She was sorry she was a disappointment. That she wasn’t an ideal specimen for his art. That she wasn’t pretty enough. Wasn’t perfect.

“Can I see your back?” he asked.

She spun around. Annoyed with him. Annoyed with herself. His fingertips traced eight slow paths down her back.

“Your lines are amazing,” he said.

Yeah, her flat as a board, straight as a stick lines.

“So graceful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more perfect body for this.”

Her brow furrowed. Perfect? But didn’t he prefer curves? “Do you think so?” She lowered her hands and looked down at her too white belly and those stupid freckles that decorated her chest.

“Can I start? I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

She nodded, feeling almost proud of her body. How weird was that?

“Just take off your bra and panties and sit up here on the piano for me?”

Whoa. Too fast. “I’d rather leave them on,” she said.

His fingertip traced the top elastic of her panties along her lower back. “I guess I can work them into the design,” he said. “If you’re more comfortable with that.”

She nodded and was surprised when he moved to the side table and blew out all three of the candles.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to do this by feel.”

“By feel?” she squeaked.

“I don’t want to get distracted by your beauty.”

She chuckled. “Okay. That was just cheesy.”

“Just stating facts.”

“You already have me in my underwear and willing to be tied and at your mercy. You can lay off the pick-up lines.”