Eventually, Phern stands with an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, I’m officially bored. And if I have to witness one more loaded look between the two of you, I’m going to gouge my own eyes out with a thimble.”
“You can’t quit,” I say, feigning scandal.
“I’m cashing out while I still have dignity,” she mutters, grabbing her mug. “You two enjoy your little power struggle slash pre-sex staring contest. I’ll be in my room pretending none of this is happening.”
“Love you too, sis,” Sam calls after her, grinning as the sound of her door clicks shut down the hall.
And just like that we’re alone.
The room settles into a different quiet. Thicker. Charged. The fire crackles in the background, casting flickering shadows across the wooden floor and the cards spread out in front of us.
I move to gather the cards, but Sam’s hand reaches out, covers mine.
“You don’t have to clean up right away,” he says, voice low, thumb brushing over the back of my hand.
I look up.
And his gaze is smoking.
That lazy smile he wore in front of Phern is gone. What’s left is heavier.
“I didn’t peg you for a board game guy,” I murmur, because it’s suddenly hard to think with his fingers doing that.
He shrugs a shoulder. “I’m not, really. But watching you squirm every time I brush your knee under the table?” He leans in slightly, voice dropping lower. “That part’s addictive.”
I try to laugh, but it comes out thinner than I meant it to.
“Sam…”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not exactly subtle, am I?”
His grin curves slow and dangerous. “Not even a little. But I like that about you.”
His fingers slip down from my hand, trailing along the inside of my wrist like he’s memorizing the feel of my pulse. I shift slightly, legs crossed, sweatshirt still loose around my thighs but suddenly way too warm.
“I keep thinking about what you said earlier,” I admit, voice quiet. “About the rope.”
He freezes, just for a second.
Then he lifts my hand to his lips, presses a kiss to my knuckles.
“I wasn’t kidding.”
“I didn’t think you were.”
His eyes flick to mine, searching and unreadable for half a heartbeat.
“You’re really okay with that?”
I nod. “I trust you.”
That does something to him. I feel it in the way his posture shifts. His grip tightens slightly, his mouth parts just a little like the breath’s been knocked out of him.
“I’m gonna take real good care of you, Charlie,” he says, quiet but firm, like a vow. “Not just with rope. With all of it.”
And god, the way he says that?—
