“Ohhh,” she says softly, grin curving slow and dangerous. “That’s a definite yes.”
“Don’t sound so pleased about it.”
She leans in, eyes flicking between my mouth and the quiz. “Just collecting data.”
“Sure you are.”
“Purely academic.”
“Uh-huh. You’re writing your dissertation on my ability to say no.”
She laughs, a breathy, teasing sound that hits me square in the chest.
Then she scrolls again, reading the next one out loud, slower this time. “Do you likegivingcontrol?”
I glance over. “Isn’t that the same thing?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. This one’s about whether you like… watching someone else fall apart because ofyou.”
I can feel the pulse in my throat. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “That one’s a yes.”
Her breath catches, but she covers it with a smirk. “Knew it.”
She scrolls down, her voice almost too casual now. “Alright, last one for now.”
I brace myself.
“Would you ever let someone tie you up?”
My brain short-circuits. “Like—like actually?”
Her eyes are bright, curious, a little wild. “Yes, Carter.Actually.”
I blink. “With what, exactly?”
“Wow, you’re really thinking logistics?”
“Answer the question.”
She tilts her head. “Ropes. Silk scarf. Zip ties if we’re being creative.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Just answer honestly.”
I exhale, slow. “If it was you…”
Her smile falters, just a little.
“…I’d let you do anything.”
Her fingers hover above the trackpad, then drop to her lap. For a second, the room feels smaller—like all the air’s caught between us.
“Scientific research, huh?” I murmur.
She swallows, voice barely above a whisper. “Purely academic.”
The laptop screen goes dim, and she closes it slowly, setting it on the table and then she climbs into my lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I go still.
