Willow bit her lip on a grin and adjusted her perch on the ottoman as she watched Silas return to the tree for a longer, flatter box. This one he handed to Boone, who didn’t even bother pretending to wait.
The wrapping fell away quickly, and he pulled the lid off a white box to reveal a thick, heavy leather weight belt in a charcoal-gray finish, lined in black suede with subtle silver embroidery at the edges.
Boone let out a low breath. “Damn. This company only does custom. You had this made for me?”
“Extra width for tall motherfuckers,” Silas said. “Buckle hardware is titanium. Supposed to last a lifetime.”
Boone turned it over, running his hand across the smooth leather. “This is fucking gorgeous.”
Silas shrugged. “You’re the only person I know who can deadlift a snowplow. Figured you should have gear that fits.”
Silas went for the final box and brought it to her. It was much smaller, wrapped in matte black with a satin silver ribbon. He handed it to her, but instead of stepping back, he crouched down and watched her with an infuriating half-smile.
She unwrapped the box, then lifted the lid and pulled a coffee mug out. It was all metal, double-walled and black, with a thick, industrial-looking handle, which on second glance she realized was an industrial C-clamp, and the curve of the heavy metal had been smoothed and integrated into the mug’s form, sturdy and cold against her fingers.
Nestled beneath it, on black velvet, lay a necklace — a delicate chain of tiny linked steel segments, and from it hung a lightning bolt pendant.
“I had the screw from the clamp made into the pendant,” he said. “It’s a lightning bolt because if the storm hadn’t hit, we might not have met you.”
Her breath caught and her heart sped. “It’s the same clamp, Sir? From the cabin?”
He nodded. “Yes. I put it in my duffel instead of tossing it back into the toolbox, and one of our regulars is a metalsmith.”
She traced the lightning bolt and felt the ghost pain from the clamp on her thigh.
“You remember where that clamp bit you?” he asked softly.
A flush crept up her neck, but she nodded.
“You’ll remember it with your coffee now. Every morning.”
He plucked a small black velvet pouch from his pocket and dropped it into her palm. She opened it to find a pair of rhinestone-encrusted nipple clamps, delicate and elegant, but wicked-looking all the same.
“These didnotcost a hundred bucks.” He tilted his head. “Maybe you should model them for the bitchy saleswoman.”
Willow leaned forward to give him a peck on the lips. “Thank you for my mug and pendant, Sir, and for the thought that went into them. I love you, even if you are kind of a jerk sometimes.”
“You love me, in part,becauseI’m an evil sadist, not in spite of it, and I love you, in part, because you fight so hard to accept what I do to you, even when there’s no way anyone can be expected to.”
“She didn’t thank you for the nipple clamps,” Boone said.
Silas shrugged. “She will the next time I have her strapped down in the playroom.”
Kenny glanced at Boone. “You’re up.”
Boone rolled his shoulders and got to his feet. “Guess I’ll keep it simple.”
He walked behind the sofa and came out with a box big enough for a recliner. He walked it to Kenny, settled it onto the floor, and stepped back.
Kenny eyed the box as if it might be full of snakes, ripped the paper off in one long pull, and said, “Damn, Boone. Double subwoofers, four surround sound three-sixty units, and a soundbar. We’llfeelthe motherfucking explosions.”
Boone grunted. “I bought wall mounts for the four speakers. All the hardware. Ready to install whenever you’re ready.”
“Fuck yes,” Kenny muttered, lifting one of the speakers with reverence. “Movie nights are going tohit.”
Willow smothered a laugh. Men really are just a step above boys when it comes to fun toys.
Boone was already at Silas’s side, offering a long leather case. Silas opened it and went utterly still.
