The sight that greets me stops me dead in my tracks.
Emmett lies sprawled across his bed in nothing but tight black boxer briefs, his wrists secured above his head with fluffy white handcuffs attached to his headboard. His normally perfect hair is mussed, face flushed crimson with what looks like equal parts frustration and embarrassment.
“Thank fuck you’re here!” he blurts, the curse sounding foreign on his lips.
I stand frozen in the doorway, champagne bottle dangling from my fingertips, as my brain struggles to process the scene before me. Emmett—uptight, perfectionist Emmett—is almost naked and handcuffed to his bed. And we’re alone.
“What the fuck happened?” I manage.
Emmett gives me a sheepish grin that does something strange to my insides. “Kind of a funny story. Uncuff me first?”
I don’t move, still trying to reconcile the Emmett I know with the one before me now—vulnerable and somehow even more attractive than usual. His swimmer’s body is on full display, all lean muscle and smooth skin except for a light dusting of hair on his chest that narrows to a thin line disappearing beneath his waistband.
“Where’s Serena?” I ask, finding my voice again.
“She left.” His grin fades.
“Left.” I repeat the words, like they’re in a foreign language. “She left you…like this?”
“Yeah.” He tugs at the handcuffs, the metal clinking against the headboard. “Look, this is really embarrassing. Can you just uncuff me?”
I step into the room, closing the door behind me—a reflexive action, though there’s no one else in the house to see. “Why did she leave?”
Emmett’s blush deepens, spreading down his neck to his chest. “She got…pissed off.”
“At what?” I move closer to the bed, setting the champagne bottle on his nightstand. “What did you do?”
His green eyes meet mine before skittering away. “Can you please just uncuff me? The key’s on the dresser.”
I glance at the small silver key lying on the wooden surface, but make no move to retrieve it. Instead, I place one knee on the edge of the bed, leaning over him. The power dynamic has shifted from our usual interactions, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it, at least a little.
“Not until you tell me what happened,” I insist, studying his face. “Everything was going great with the dinner, right? I saw the plates, the wine. Looked like you were following the plan.”
Emmett sighs, a deep sound of resignation. “Yeah, dinner was perfect. Everything was going according to plan. She loved the food, the setup, the music—everything.”
“So what went wrong?”
He shifts, the movement drawing my attention to the defined muscles of his abdomen. “Things were…progressing.”
“Progressing.” I raise an eyebrow. “To the bedroom, obviously.”
“Obviously. She suggested the handcuffs. Said it would be fun.”
The image of Serena cuffing Emmett to the bed sends an unexpected spike of jealousy through me. I tamp it down, focusing on the fact that she’s gone, and he’s still here, still cuffed.
“And then?” I prompt, my knee dipping the mattress further as I lean closer.
Emmett’s eyes fix on the ceiling, avoiding mine. “And then I couldn’t…I couldn’t…”
Understanding dawns. “You couldn’t get it up?”
His groan is half frustration, half mortification. “No matter what she did, I just…wasn’t into it.”
I bite back the urge to laugh—not because it’s funny, but because the alternative is examining why this information makes me feel so relieved.
“So she got pissed and left you tied up?”
“No, she was…disappointed, but understanding at first. She thought maybe I was nervous.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “But then she asked if there was something else going on.”
