No argument. She pulls her sweater over her head, unsnaps her jeans, stands in her bra and panties—skin flushed, chest heaving.
"Sit on the edge of the bed."
She sits.
I move behind her, lean down until my mouth is close to her ear. "You're thinking too much. Your brain is your best weapon. Right now, it's your enemy. I'm going to turn it off."
I bring the t-shirt up.
"Kade?"
"Hush."
I wrap the fabric around her eyes and tie it securely at the back of her head. Firm, not punishing. Total darkness.
She stiffens. "I can't see."
"That's the point." I run my hands down her bare arms, tracking the goosebumps as they rise. "You don't need to see. You don't need to watch the door. You don't need to look for code. Just feel."
I move around to face her. She's sitting upright, hands gripping the edge of the mattress, head tilted, listening. Trying to locate me by sound.
"Lie back."
She lies back.
I take the silk tie she used for her hair earlier. "Give me your hands."
She reaches up without hesitation. I bind her wrists together—loose enough to break if she needs to, tight enough that she'll feel every movement. I secure them to the iron rail of the headboard.
Blind. Bound. Completely exposed.
"Kade." Her voice has changed. The panic is gone. Anticipation has replaced it.
"I'm here." I settle my weight between her legs without touching her anywhere else. "I’m the only thing in your world right now. There’s no Black Helix. There’s no coyote. There’s no thirty-one-hour clock. There is only me."
"Yes."
"I'm going to touch you," I tell her. "You aren't going to anticipate it. You're just going to take it."
I run my fingertips lightly down her throat, over the curve of her breasts, down her stomach. She arches into the touch, chasing more friction. I pull back.
"Patience."
I lean down and press my mouth to the hollow of her throat. Her pulse spikes under my lips.
"You like not being in charge," I say, unhooking her bra. "You spend all day controlling systems, managing data. It's exhausting."
"Yes." A whimper.
"Tonight, you control nothing."
I strip the rest of her clothes away until she's naked, pale and glowing in the dim light. Then I strip myself and toss everything to the floor.
I run my hands over her body—not sexually at first. Grounding. Heavy palms pressing into her thighs, her hips, her ribs. Reminding her that she is physical. Solid. Here.
"What do you feel?"
"Your hands." A gasp. "Heat. Weight."
