Chapter 13
Phern is already standing in the kitchen with her arms crossed, one brow arched, mug in hand, judging.
I instinctively shrink half a step behind Sam, even though I’m covered in one of his oversized sweatshirts and a pair of drawstring pants I had to roll at the ankles twice. My hair is still damp, twisted up into a messy bun that’s barely holding on, and my cheeks are definitely flushed.
Not from the hot water.
Sam, cocky bastard that he is, walks in like he didn’t just rearrange my entire internal anatomy in the shower. His flannel’s hanging open at the neck, and?—
Oh god.
My eyes land on the dark mark blooming along his collarbone.
Oops.
Phern’s eyes zero in on it, too.
And she sips her coffee. Slowly.
“Nice hickey,” she says, deadpan.
Sam doesn’t flinch. “Thanks. I’m collecting them now.”
Phern sets her mug down with a clink .
“I was bored out of my mind,” she says, flatly. “I had to make a second pot of coffee, and I organized the spice cabinet. Twice.”
“Well,” I say, trying to keep a straight face, “you did say you were going to take a nap.”
Her glare intensifies. “I was going to take a nap. Then I heard you two going at it like rabbits!”
Sam hums. “Technically, we napped in between rounds.”
I laugh. “Sam.”
He shrugs, unbothered, stealing a leftover piece of toast from the counter. “What? She started it.”
I smack his chest. “I’m never showing my face in this kitchen again.”
Phern rolls her eyes and walks past us toward the hallway. “Don’t worry, I’ll put a bell on myself next time so you two know when I’m in earshot.”
Sam chuckles and slides his arm around my waist, pulling me into his side as she disappears.
“You okay?” he murmurs, kissing the side of my head.
I nod, still flushed. “My legs are jello, your sister hates me, and I’m wearing your clothes.”
He grins. “Sounds perfect to me.”
“Yeah.” I turn so we’re chest to chest, which is quickly becoming my favorite position with him. “So, what’s there to do around here?”
“Not a lot with the power being out.”
“What does one do to entertain themselves with no electronics?”
He snorts at that. “We read. Play board games. There are a lot of things you can do to stay busy.”
His words aren’t sexual by any means, but my libido has other ideas.
“Oh? I’m intrigued, Mr. Stone. ”
“Already?”
I grin. “Can’t keep up, old man?”
He lifts a brow, the corner of his mouth tugging into that slow, lazy smirk that’s fast becoming my favorite form of danger.
“Old man?” he echoes, voice low and loaded.
I blink up at him, all false innocence. “Need your ears cleaned out?”
He steps in, closing the space between us until my back brushes the edge of the counter and his hands settle on my hips. “Careful, Charlie. You keep running your mouth like that and I’m gonna have to remind you exactly what this old man is capable of.”
My breath catches. Yep, that worked.
I lean in, fingers toying with the open edge of his flannel. “Promises, promises.”
His lips brush the shell of my ear. “You wanna test me?”
My thighs clench. Dangerously.
Before I can answer, he nips the curve of my neck, right below my ear, and I squeak an actual noise that bursts out of me before I can stop it.
From the hallway, Phern shouts, “I’m still here, you know!”
I slap a hand over my face as Sam bursts out laughing, burying his face in my shoulder.
“I swear to god,” I groan, “she’s everywhere.”
“She’s got a sixth sense for foreplay,” he mutters, still chuckling.
I shove at him half-heartedly, trying not to laugh. “Well, now I need a new plan for staying entertained.”
He pulls back just enough to look down at me, eyes still gleaming, voice dropping a notch. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a few. ”
My stomach flips. “And they don’t require electricity?”
“Nope.” He leans in again, his lips brushing mine. “Just imagination. And maybe some rope.”
My knees nearly give out, and Sam doesn’t miss it. His hand tightens on my waist, steadying me like he planned this. Like he lives for watching me unravel one breath at a time.
“Rope?” I ask, already breathless.
“Mmmhmm,” he hums, low and dangerous, his mouth just grazing the corner of mine. “I’ve got some in the tack room. Soft. Strong. Meant for training wild things.”
My pulse slams in my throat. I glance toward the hallway, instinctively checking for signs of Phern. The coast is clear.
I lean in, lips brushing his jaw, my voice barely a whisper. “Tell me more.”
Sam stills for half a second like he’s checking himself, deciding if he’s about to say something dangerous. But the look in his eyes?
Oh, he’s going there.
“I’d tie your wrists,” he murmurs, so soft only I can hear it. “Nothing tight. Just enough to keep you still.”
My breath stutters.
“I’d spread you out nice and slow,” he continues, “anchor the rope to the bedposts. Keep you open. Helpless. And then I’d just watch you.”
“Watch me?”
He nods, his nose brushing mine. “Watch you squirm. Watch you beg. Take my time until you’re soaked and desperate and aching for it.”
My thighs squeeze together. He feels it because his grin turns sharp and smug.
“I wouldn’t even touch you at first,” he goes on, voice like velvet and sin. “Just run my mouth over every inch. Breathe on you. Whisper all the filthy things I’m gonna do when I finally let myself fuck you again.”
“Jesus,” I breathe.
“You asked,” he says, tilting his head. “Want me to stop?”
I shake my head. Fast.
“Didn’t think so.”
He takes a step back, just enough to leave me standing there, flushed and wrecked, heart pounding in my throat.
Then he tosses me a wink. “Better be careful what you ask for next time, darlin’. You might just get it.”
And with that?
He turns and walks toward the back door like he didn’t just burn the entire kitchen down with his words. I stand there in the kitchen for a full five seconds after he’s gone, trying to remember how to breathe, think, and function like a normal person.
Rope.
Jesus.
By the time I manage to pull myself together and find my way into the living room, he’s already got a board game pulled out.
Life, of all things. Classic. Harmless. Which would be fine if his earlier description didn’t still have my brain fogged with heat and my thighs squeezed so tight I’m surprised I can walk.
Phern’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, clearly in a better mood now, sipping on her mug and eyeing us like she knows. The smug little smirk she shoots me as I sit down nearly does me in.
Sam, for his part, looks infuriatingly unaffected. Relaxed. Leaned back against the couch. Flannel sleeves rolled up, forearms on display, hair still damp from the shower, and that damn hickey I gave him on full display .
“You the competitive type, Charlie?” he asks, casually handing me car piece for the game.
I lift a brow. “Only when there’s something worth winning.”
His eyes spark just for a second. “Oh, there’s something.”
Jesus take the wheel.
Phern rolls her eyes. “If this turns into strip Life , I’m leaving.”
“No promises,” Sam murmurs, not looking away from me.
I shoot him a glare, but my pulse is pounding.
We start playing. The first few rounds are harmless. Quiet. But every time Sam’s fingers brush mine and every time his knee bumps mine under the table, it sends a jolt straight through me.
It doesn’t help that he keeps watching me. Not obviously. Not constantly. But enough. Enough to make me squirm. Enough to make it feel like every single spin of the wheel is part of a much dirtier game.
“I think I’m winning,” I murmur, leaning forward just a little more than necessary.
His gaze drops. Lingers. “Depends on how you define winning.”
I smirk. “Well, I’ve got twins, a boy, and some pretty good payday cards.”
His smile darkens. “Oh, do you?”
And I’m just about to say something back when Phern slaps her hand on the board.
“Okay!” she says. “New rule. No eye-fucking during your turn.”
Sam looks deeply unbothered. “That’s gonna be hard.”
“Try harder,” she deadpans.
I laugh, even though I’m internally combusting .
This is fine.
Everything is fine.
Except it’s not.
Because we both know this game has a time limit and when it’s over?
All bets are off.
Eventually, Phern stands with an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, I’m officially bored. And if I have to witness one more loaded look between the two of you, I’m going to gouge my own eyes out with a thimble.”
“You can’t quit,” I say, feigning scandal.
“I’m cashing out while I still have dignity,” she mutters, grabbing her mug. “You two enjoy your little power struggle slash pre-sex staring contest. I’ll be in my room pretending none of this is happening.”
“Love you too, sis,” Sam calls after her, grinning as the sound of her door clicks shut down the hall.
And just like that we’re alone.
The room settles into a different quiet. Thicker. Charged. The fire crackles in the background, casting flickering shadows across the wooden floor and the cards spread out in front of us.
I move to gather the cards, but Sam’s hand reaches out, covers mine.
“You don’t have to clean up right away,” he says, voice low, thumb brushing over the back of my hand.
I look up.
And his gaze is smoking.
That lazy smile he wore in front of Phern is gone. What’s left is heavier.
“I didn’t peg you for a board game guy,” I murmur, because it’s suddenly hard to think with his fingers doing that .
He shrugs a shoulder. “I’m not, really. But watching you squirm every time I brush your knee under the table?” He leans in slightly, voice dropping lower. “That part’s addictive.”
I try to laugh, but it comes out thinner than I meant it to.
“Sam…”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not exactly subtle, am I?”
His grin curves slow and dangerous. “Not even a little. But I like that about you.”
His fingers slip down from my hand, trailing along the inside of my wrist like he’s memorizing the feel of my pulse. I shift slightly, legs crossed, sweatshirt still loose around my thighs but suddenly way too warm.
“I keep thinking about what you said earlier,” I admit, voice quiet. “About the rope.”
He freezes, just for a second.
Then he lifts my hand to his lips, presses a kiss to my knuckles.
“I wasn’t kidding.”
“I didn’t think you were.”
His eyes flick to mine, searching and unreadable for half a heartbeat.
“You’re really okay with that?”
I nod. “I trust you.”
That does something to him. I feel it in the way his posture shifts. His grip tightens slightly, his mouth parts just a little like the breath’s been knocked out of him.
“I’m gonna take real good care of you, Charlie,” he says, quiet but firm, like a vow. “Not just with rope. With all of it.”
And god, the way he says that?—
I burn.
But still we wait. We simmer .
Because the tension’s not ready to break.
Not yet.
Sam doesn’t let go of my hand right away. He keeps it in his, warm and steady, like we’ve still got things to say with no need to say them.
The fire pops behind us, the only sound in the room now that Phern’s gone. Outside, wind presses against the house in soft howls, like nature itself is giving us privacy.
“I don’t think I’ve ever played a board game that ended with a bondage discussion,” I murmur, lips twitching.
He smiles, eyes dropping to where our fingers are still tangled. “That’s ‘cause you’ve never played with me before.”
I breathe a quiet laugh and lean back, resting on one arm as I watch him. He’s not touching me now, not directly, but I can feel him. The way his attention wraps around me like a weighted blanket, warm and grounding. Unrelenting.
“Does that happen a lot?” I ask, voice low. “Girls bringing up rope after game night?”
“Nope.” His gaze lifts, pinning me. “Just you.”
A beat of silence stretches between us, thick and full.
“Lucky me,” I whisper.
“Lucky me ,” he echoes, voice softer now. “I don’t think you have any idea how hard it is not to reach for you every damn second.”
I swallow hard, my stomach doing a lazy flip. “You could.”
“I know.” He tilts his head slightly. “But right now? I’m enjoying this. Watching you burn for it.”
I flush because he’s right.
It’s not just his voice. It’s the way he’s sitting now, relaxed but ready.
The way his eyes move like they already know what I taste like in every place that matters.
It’s the way my sweatshirt hangs loose on me, too long in the sleeves, too short over my thighs.
And the way his eyes keep finding the bare skin beneath it, like he’s imagining what he’d do if he let his self-control slip.
“Is that what you want?” I ask quietly, heart thudding. “To watch me burn?”
“For now,” he says. “Later?” He leans forward slightly, just enough for his voice to darken like smoke. “Later, I want to see you come apart with your wrists tied and my name on your tongue.”
A soft sound escapes me. It’s part breath, part gasp, and a lot of need.
His gaze lingers on my lips. “But right now,” he murmurs, rising to his feet and holding out a hand, “I want to lie in bed with you. Just lie there. Nothing more. Just you. Just me. Just warm.”
I blink up at him. “That’s it?”
His grin returns, slow and wicked. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t touch you.”
God help me, I take his hand.
And I melt.