I picked at my coleslaw, my emotions churning. Gratitude for Jack. Hurt from my mom’s words. That persistent, nagging voice that whispered maybe she was right. Maybe I was wasting my time. Maybe I wasn’t good enough.
I forced myself to take a bite of burger.
It tasted like ash.
I forced another bite down my throat. Around me, the family laughed and the conversation flowed, loud and vibrant. I had never felt more invisible.
CAM
Isat on the back veranda, the late afternoon sun warming the weathered boards beneath my feet. The short length of rope moved between my hands, the soft cotton fibers sliding against my palms in a rhythm I’d long since memorized. Pull, release. Pull, release.
My mind was on Emily. It had been on Emily all goddamn day.
The way she’d looked when I’d had her pinned beneath me in my bed, eyes dark and trusting, saying my name like a prayer. The little sound she’d made when I’d kissed every one of her scars, that broken gasp that told me I was giving her something no one else ever had.
That had been nearly two weeks ago. Which meant my need for her had been building, getting sharper, more insistent. The rope slid through my hands again and heat coiled low in my gut.
The sound of a car pulling into her driveway next door cut through my thoughts. Emily.
I grabbed my phone from the side table and pulled up the message I’d drafted twenty minutes ago, my thumb hovering over send. Then I pressed it.
Took off work early. I’m home if you want to come over.
The three dots appeared almost immediately.
Yes. Give me two minutes.
I set the phone down, my pulse kicking up a notch. The rope was still in my hands.
Less than two minutes later, the back gate creaked open. Emily stepped through, still in her work clothes, her hair pulled back in that messy way that made my fingers itch to take it down.
She climbed the veranda steps and her eyes went straight to the rope between my hands.
I dropped it on the table and reached for her, pulling her forward into my lap in one smooth motion. She came willingly, her knees settling on either side of my thighs as I captured her mouth with mine. I groaned against her lips.
“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” I said, pulling back just enough to get the words out before kissing her again.
When Emily finally pulled back, breathless, her eyes caught on the rope. She reached for it without hesitation, running it through her fingers.
“What were you doing with this?”
My hands settled on her hips, thumbs tracing small circles against her sides through her shirt. I kept my eyes on hers, trying to read her reaction. “Thinking about you.”
Color crept up her neck. Fuck, she was gorgeous when she blushed. “And rope factors into that how, exactly?”
“I want to try something with you.” I kept my voice low, steady, making sure she heard every word. “But only if you’re willing. Only if you want to.”
Her breath hitched, a sharp intake of air that told me I had her full attention. “Okay.” She looked down at the rope in her hands, then back up at me. No fear in her eyes. Just curiosity and trust and something hotter underneath. “What kind of something?”
I took the rope from her gently, letting it slide through my fingers. The soft cotton moved easily in my hands. “Trust me?”
She didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”
“Hold out your hands.”
She did. No questions, no second-guessing. Just her hands extended toward me, skin flushing a deep, pretty pink along her neck while her eyes locked on mine.
I brought the rope around her wrists, taking my time with it. Slow. Deliberate. Let her feel every loop, every pass of the cotton against her skin. Once. Twice. I tied it off with a basic knot, loose enough that she could pull free in a heartbeat if she needed to, but secure enough that she’d feel it.
