“Sure it is,” he teases, looping an arm around my waist. “You and I can link together.”
I shake my head, trying to wriggle free, but I’m already smiling too hard to sell it. “You’re ridiculous.”
His grin softens, fading into something more aware. Of what I don’t know. Maybe my thudding heart… can he hear it? His hand lingers at my hip, thumb tracing a line that makes my breath catch.
The air shifts, laughter dissolving into something heavier as he leans in, his hand gripping my chin to bring me closer. His lips brush mine once, barely there, before he kisses me again, but still at the pace he wants, and I let myself feel every second of it from the very tips of my toes all the way to my head. Tingles engulf me in the best possible way.
When he finally pulls back, his mouth curves against my skin as he whispers, “I saw you leave earlier.”
I pause, knowing that at some point we’ll have to make it over to my house so he can see exactly where I went earlier. When I saw his house was dark, all curtains drawn, I feared he’d crawled straight back into the Grinch I know him to be.
“I did leave,” I admit, looking away for a beat. “But not to where you think.”
His brow pulls taut. “No?”
I bite my lip, then glance up at him. “Do you trust me?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I do.”
My heart gives a tight tug. I slide off his lap and pad over to his closet, rifling through until my fingers close around a tie. When I turn back, he’s watching me, head tilted, curiosity sparking in his eyes.
“You’re kidding,” he says slowly. “We’re escalating tothisalready?”
Heat flares in my cheeks as he swings his legs to the side of the bed and I step between them. “Not like that. Well…maybe like that another time. But right now, I need you blindfolded.”
His chuckle is low, amused, but he lets me loop the tie over his eyes and knot it gently behind his head. “For the record,” he drawls, “I’m open to all your kinky shit. This feels tame. I bet you’re wilder than this.”
“Stop,” I snort, trying not to sound too flustered. “This is serious.”
His hands slide down my sides anyway, deliciously slow, fingertips brushing over the curve of me like he’s testing exactly how serious I really am. What was I doing again? I can’t keep coherent because his touch makes me shiver, but by contrast, warmth rushes up my neck, and he smirks even blindfolded, like he can sense the effect he’s having on me.
“I need to focus, Sam, and you’re making that really hard.”
He mutters something that sounds like ‘tell me about it’ but stands without protest when I tug at his hand, towering over me, blind-folded and trusting. I guide him carefully, one step at a time, down the stairs, wincing every time he bumps the wall or grazes the banister, offering my apologies.
“This is either going to be the best surprise of my life,” he mutters, “or the start of a true-crime documentary.”
“Maybe I serve to be an inspiration for your next novel.”
“I think you might be right about that inspiration. I did write today.”
I pause on the last step, and he pushes into me, forcing me further away. “You wrote?”
He nods.
“That’s amazing,” I breathe, pride filling my chest at the thought of him being able to do something he loves again.
“It felt amazing,” he admits quietly. “And… maybe it had something to do with you.”
I snort, trying to cover the way my heart stumbles. “Right, me—the muse of a New York Times bestselling author. I was joking, you know.”
Before I can retreat into sarcasm, he catches my wrist and pulls me closer, his breath brushing my skin as he tucks his face against my neck. “Would that really be so bad?” he whispers.
I try to deflect. “I just don’t know if I’d make a very good muse.”
His laugh rumbles low against my skin. “You already do.”
Warmth fills me like I’ve been submerged in the hottest bubble bath, and all I want to do is pull him down to my lips and kiss him senseless, but I have something else I need to do first.
