“That’s good,” Kit said, breathless with anticipation. “Really good. Um, are you going to do that now, or do I need to try touching the forbidden box again? Because I can turn the brat way up. You haven’t seen anything yet.”
“I’ve seen plenty,” Darius said—and suddenly stood, tugging Kit up by the arms.
Kit staggered upright, barely catching his balance before losing it again. Darius guided him to the floor in a perfectly choreographed push and pull. All the stomach-swooping surprise of a shove, but carefully protecting Kit’s head.
He lay flat on the wooden floor, every nerve singing, as Darius’s shadow covered him.
“Hold still,” Darius ordered, reaching for the packing tape.
Kit held still, pulse quickening, until Darius pulled his arms above his head. Packing tape circled his wrists, above the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He could probably wriggle out if he really tried.
But he wasn’t going to try. He didn’t want to ruin his cute bats sweatshirt, and more importantly, he didn’t want to escape.
“Not as good as handcuffs, but this will do,” Darius said, pushing Kit’s bound wrists into the floor. He didn’t use enough pressure to hurt, just to feel good. To make it obvious how bound and helpless Kit was.
Darius’s broad form surrounded Kit. The spice of his aftershave lingered, possessing Kit from the inside out.
Kit licked his lips and squirmed. Just to emphasize the point. “We should go on a date sometime. Just the two of us.”
“I don’t disagree,” Darius said, stroking down Kit’s arms. Then he shifted around, kneeling beside Kit’s head. “But is there any reason you’re thinking about that right now?”
Kit couldn’t look into Darius’s face at this angle. He addressed Darius’s dark, chiseled, sexy elbow instead. “We haven’t really gone on a date yet. Unless you count mildly abducting me. Or fucking at your place.”
Darius chuckled. “This very week, I made you pasta before you blew me under the table. That counts as a date, right?”
Did it? Kit always thought of dates as going out. Though since he didn’t live here, maybe visiting Darius’s apartmentwasgoing out. But that was part of the problem, wasn’t it?
More tape screeched from its roll.
“I like spending time with everyone together,” Kit said as Darius taped his bound wrists to the floor. “But I like spendingtime with just one or two of you. I’m worried that if we’re all living together, that won’t happen anymore.”
Darius pressed another strip of tape over Kit’s wrists. “That’s smart to think about. You shouldn’t worry about it, though.”
“Why not?” Kit wiggled his arms—then held perfectly still, as his movement made the tape pull slightly from the floor. “Also, you’re going to need a lot more tape to make this work.”
“No, I’m not.” Darius set the tape aside, then patted Kit’s cheek. He leaned over, every word growing closer. “Because you’re going to be a good boy and hold still for me, aren’t you?”
The last word breathed across Kit’s lips. He swallowed hard, toes curling in arousal. “I don’t know about good. But I’ll hold still. Yeah.”
“Perfect,” Darius murmured, slowly unzipping Kit’s hoodie. “As for making sure we spend enough time together… We all know Holden is going to keep his psycho schedule tracker.”
Fuck, Darius had barely touched him so far. Taped wrists and an unzipped sweatshirt, and Kit was one right move away from coming in his skinny jeans.
“Holden will cheat,” Kit pointed out.
“I can audit the schedule.” Darius pushed Kit’s shirt up, barely an inch. He teased that soft inch of Kit’s bare stomach, with gentle movements that had Kit fighting not to tear the tape from the floor. “But I’m not like Holden. I don’t need to keep track of every minute we spend alone and every minute you spend with other men. It will work out, and precisely equal divisions aren’t important. Sometimes I’ll be away for a month or two. Sometimes James will be busy with work. Or revenge. Maybe someday Holden will get a real job, not that indentured internship with James.”
“Doubtful,” Kit murmured distractedly. Why did he ever try to have a conversation when Darius was touching him? “I think he likes working with James. Don’t tell James that.”
“I won’t tell Holden either.” Darius straddled Kit’s legs without putting any weight down. He pushed Kit’s shirt higher. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” Kit said without thinking. Then he grimaced. “Ugh. Ask me again when I’m not this fucking hard.”
Darius bent to kiss Kit’s exposed stomach. Plush lips left only the faintest friction. “You don’t have to worry about my schedule. Trust me to tell you if I’m feeling neglected. Can I trust you to tell me, too?”
Kit rocked his hips up, not getting far before Darius pinned him down. “No,” Kit drew the word out lazily. “But you can trust me to be a really obvious brat about it.”
Darius’s eyes curved in a smile. “That’s good enough for me.”
