I burn.
But still we wait. We simmer.
Because the tension’s not ready to break.
Not yet.
Sam doesn’t let go of my hand right away. He keeps it in his, warm and steady, like we’ve still got things to say with no need to say them.
The fire pops behind us, the only sound in the room now that Phern’s gone. Outside, wind presses against the house in soft howls, like nature itself is giving us privacy.
“I don’t think I’ve ever played a board game that ended with a bondage discussion,” I murmur, lips twitching.
He smiles, eyes dropping to where our fingers are still tangled. “That’s ‘cause you’ve never played with me before.”
I breathe a quiet laugh and lean back, resting on one arm as I watch him. He’s not touching me now, not directly, but I can feel him. The way his attention wraps around me like a weighted blanket, warm and grounding. Unrelenting.
“Does that happen a lot?” I ask, voice low. “Girls bringing up rope after game night?”
“Nope.” His gaze lifts, pinning me. “Just you.”
A beat of silence stretches between us, thick and full.
“Lucky me,” I whisper.
“Luckyme,” he echoes, voice softer now. “I don’t think you have any idea how hard it is not to reach for you every damn second.”
I swallow hard, my stomach doing a lazy flip. “You could.”
“I know.” He tilts his head slightly. “But right now? I’m enjoying this. Watching you burn for it.”
I flush because he’s right.
It’s not just his voice. It’s the way he’s sitting now, relaxed but ready. The way his eyes move like they already know what I taste like in every place that matters. It’s the way my sweatshirt hangs loose on me, too long in the sleeves, tooshort over my thighs. And the way his eyes keep finding the bare skin beneath it, like he’s imagining what he’d do if he let his self-control slip.
“Is that what you want?” I ask quietly, heart thudding. “To watch me burn?”
“For now,” he says. “Later?” He leans forward slightly, just enough for his voice to darken like smoke. “Later, I want to see you come apart with your wrists tied and my name on your tongue.”
A soft sound escapes me. It’s part breath, part gasp, and a lot of need.
His gaze lingers on my lips. “But right now,” he murmurs, rising to his feet and holding out a hand, “I want to lie in bed with you. Just lie there. Nothing more. Just you. Just me. Just warm.”
I blink up at him. “That’s it?”
His grin returns, slow and wicked. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t touch you.”
God help me, I take his hand.
And I melt.
14
The bedroom is dim when we slip inside, firelight still flickering low in the fireplace. The storm hums faintly beyond the windows, but in here it's calm. Close. Like the world’s pressing pause just for us.
Sam doesn’t lead me to the bed. He guides me, hand at the small of my back, fingers warm through the fabric of his sweatshirt. When we reach the edge, he pulls the covers down with one hand and gestures toward the space with a soft smile.
I climb in, curling onto my side, and he joins me a moment later. We face each other in the glow of the fire, legs brushing beneath the covers. Neither of us speaks at first.
