EPILOGUE
My fingers slip while I try to secure another knot. “Quit struggling.”
Byron bucks beneath me, not going down without a fight. “This isn’t consensual.”
I scoff and tighten my hold on his bound wrists. “As if you’re suddenly concerned about consent.”
But just for the sake of avoiding triggers and safe words, it’s very possible for him to escape. This situation is like a pebble compared to a mountain. I’m not under any illusion to claim otherwise. He’s enjoying this whether he openly admits it or not.
Which the smug grin on his dirty mouth proves. “What’s something you’ve always wanted to do, but haven’t had the chance?”
Frustration sparks in my veins and I resume my feeble strategy of binding him to the headboard. “That didn’t give you permission to flush my pills.”
“I was just trying to give you what you wanted,” he croons.
“You twisted my words after a moment of weakness. Now,” I snap. “Hold still.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“Be a good boy and find out.”
His hips flex under me, giving solid approval from his arousal through the blanket. “I’m in the mood to be bad.”
“Unfortunately, you’re not in control. Remind me of that pesky line you like to yammer?” I tip my head, pretending to think it over. “This will go a lot smoother if you cooperate.”
Before Byron can submit to my whims, the bedroom door creaks open. “Mommy?”
The soft voice halts my attempts at retaliation as I flip my position to face Ronnie. “Hey, kiddo. What’re you doing awake?”
The horror in my voice is warranted. This is a scene no adult ever wants a child to witness. I’m straddling her dad’s lap with rope in my hands like a devious cowgirl. It’s a small miracle that we’re somewhat dressed. Scantily-clad is better than stark naked.
“I had a bad dream,” she mumbles. “Can I sleep with you?”
“Ummm.” I peer at Byron from over my shoulder. “Is the tent still erected?”
He grunts while lowering his bound wrists. “Deflated faster than a popped balloon.”
Relief sags the strain in my spine and I turn to smile at Ronnie. “Sure, kiddo. We were just getting tucked in.”
Her footsteps shuffle across the carpet. “Were you camping?”
I send her a quizzical look in the dim glow from the lamp. “No?”
“Then why do you need a tent?”
Byron’s chuckle is gruff beneath me. “Mommy has a wild spirit that likes to take us on pretend adventures.”
I laugh, but the sound is strangled. “We were just… messing around.”
Once getting a closer glance at us, Ronnie pauses her approach. “Why is Daddy tied up?”
He unravels the last of knots and tosses the rope to the floor. “That’s a good question. Care to answer, menace?”
“Not really,” I mutter.
“Is it ‘cause he was tryin’ to sneak a bedtime snack?”
I’m already nodding along. “Mhmm, yep. That’s plausible and much more appropriate.”
She frowns at me. “But Daddy doesn’t like bedtime snacks.”
“Good point, cupcake.”
“Depends what he’s offered to eat,” I whisper under my breath.
“I’m craving something very specific,” he replies just as quietly.
Ronnie’s lips squish in concentration. “Like what?”
“A bun in the oven.” Byron rests his arms behind his head while I get more uncomfortable in the hot seat.
It’s only then I realize I’m still astride him while carrying on a conversation with our little girl.
I climb off him and sprawl out in my usual spot as of late on the king-size mattress.
That leaves plenty of space between us for the innocent child who I can only hope isn’t traumatized.
Ronnie leaps into the allotted space without an ounce of hesitation or mental scarring.
After getting situated on a pile of pillows, her angelic features study mine. “Why were you tying Daddy up? I want the truth.”
My lips roll between my teeth. “Gosh, those prissy pants are inquisitive tonight.”
“Frannie,” she sighs, losing her patience with my stalling techniques.
“He wasn’t listening,” I blurt.
She gasps. “Why not?”
“That’s not quite true, cupcake. I was actually listening too carefully,” Byron interjects.
Her head cocks to one side, eyes still pinned on me. “Huh?”
It appears I’m on the hook for this snafu. Might as well come clean. “Your daddy wants to put a baby in my belly. Can you believe that? It’s not like you want to be a big sister.”
But Ronnie’s expression is lit up like Christmas morning. “Oh, oh! I want a little sister. I do, I do! Please, Mommy!”
Byron’s chest is shaking with laughter. “Gosh, menace. You’re really clueless about kids. Every only child wants a sibling, especially when they’re young.”
The error in my explanation smacks me with an ignorant dose of humility. “Thanks for the words of encouragement, Daddy.”
His eyes heat on me as if he wants to give me more than his chocolate smolder for dessert. “Whenever you’re ready, baby.”
Which reminds Ronnie what’s at stake. “Let’s tie up Mommy and put my little sister in her tummy!”
My stomach clenches and I slip beneath the comforter for protection. “Um, no. That’s not how it works.”
Byron’s smirk is the definition of smug. “You did this to yourself.”
Ronnie rips off the covers I’ve buried myself under. “How do we get a baby in there?”
My arm slides across my middle as if that will divert her plans to get me pregnant. “I’m not sure. Let’s discuss it in the morning.”
Her pinched expression looks like she wants to argue. “I’m not gonna forget.”
My exhale waves a white flag in surrender. “I don’t imagine you will. Ever.”
Byron claps a palm over his mouth to muffle a bark of laughter. “This is more entertaining than reality television.”
“Hush,” I scold.
Ronnie sighs happily. “I’m tired now.”
In unison, Byron and I stoke down the slope of her nose, ending the practiced motion with a tap on her chin. She smiles as her eyes slide shut. Across our daughter’s sleepy form, my hand claps his to connect us as a family.
“Love you,” he tells us.
“Love you,” I echo.
“Gonna have the sweetest dreams,” Ronnie murmurs. “My little sister can’t wait to meet me.”