"Dyson!" Bo panted.
He grinned, finishing the last knot, then stepped back to admire his handiwork.
She lay nude and spread-eagle on the four-poster, the silk cords stark against her pale skin. Her hips moved in hungry little rolls, making his wolf stir in his groin. Deliberately, he unbuckled his belt and slipped his jeans down his hips.
"Oh, God," she breathed, her dark eyes dilated in the candlelight.
He crawled between her thighs until he knelt over her. She smelled like musk and sweat and hot blood.
"Tonight," he rumbled deep in his chest, "we're doing things my way."