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“Yeah.”

“Then why was I…” Her eyes oscillate between both of mine.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Done with the left cheek, I move on to the right.

A stroke to my ear, a brush of my eyebrow, a swipe along my hairline, Kota touches anything she can reach. It’s distracting in the best way.

She’s kinda stealing my breath if I’m being honest.

I alternate my focus between her skin and my breathing.

Randomly, she says, “Your wife is going to love you so much.”

I’ve never thought about being married. That’s what survival does to you. It keeps you frozen in place, never letting you consider what you’ll do if you actually get out.

“I don’t have a wife.”

“But when you do, she’s going to love you. You’re hot—”

I chuckle. “Am I?”

“And you’re funny.”

Now I’m frowning. I don’t know about that.

“You can bake.”

My head sways side to side. Only if there’s a recipe.

“And anytime you make her cry, you’ll know exactly how to wash the makeup off her face. Short, then long.”

Oh shit. I forgot I’m supposed to be using both sides.

I flip the now-cool rag before arguing, “I’m not gonna make her cry.” I don’t even like the idea of making my future woman cry.

“Yes, you will.”

“Hopefully only out of pleasure.”

“You are really good at oral.”

Both of us still. We haven’t talked about what happened in the woods.

I’m still thinking of a response when she whispers, “You could’ve untied me before you left. I wasn’t going to propose or anything.”

A palm by her head, I press myself up to create some distance.

“That’s not why I left.”

After a roll of her eyes, she closes them. “You’re more scared of commitment than I am of being alone.”

“I’m not scared of commitment.” I don’t think I am anyway.

“Mm-hm. Sure.”