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Rowan squeezed his butt, pulling him closer. She drew up a thigh between his legs, pressing gently into his most sensitive parts. “What if I’m gentle?”
His breath tickled her face when he laughed. “You owe me, Rowan.”
“Ioweyou?” she said.
“You use rogue tactics to win. You know you do. This time, you need to play nice.”
“I’m always nice.” She nudged her thigh higher between his legs and nipped his neck. “Let’s benicetogether. Right now.”
Harry dropped his hands to her shoulders and skimmed them down the outside of her arms. They finally settled like shackles around her wrists. “Distraction won’t work either.”
She tugged against his hold, testing. “Fine. I probably couldn’t outrun you now, anyway.”
“Bold of you to assume I’m ever letting you go.” The intensity in his voice contradicted the playfulness of the game, but he gave her a soft smile to counter it. He transferred his grip, binding both of her wrists in a single hand. He pulled a long strip of cloth from his back pocket.
Rowan’s eyes widened. “You’re—tying me up?”
“No. This is for your eyes.”
“You’re joking.”
“I’ve never been more serious.” His mouth curved in a subtle grin, and his eyes were glossy with intent, lit up like moonlight on the ocean.
Rowan quirked a skeptical brow. “I’m going to fall on my ass.”
“You won’t.” Harry brought her hands to his mouth and pressed a warm kiss to her knuckles. “I’ve got you.”
“I’ll come willingly.”
A quick, answering laugh. “Cute. No.”
“I promise.”
“Nope. Not taking any chances tonight.” He held up the cloth and waved it like a little flag. “Tonight, I’m catching you.”
Sighing with phony resignation, Rowan turned her back to him and closed her eyes.
He tied the cloth and guided her with a loose grip at the crook of her arm, catching her once when her ankle turned on a stone. It was soon obvious they’d passed where base would have been. There were still no other sounds from anyone else. Moving across the lawn like this, she should have heardsomething.
“You sure you’re taking me to base?” She stumbled again.
“That’s the goal of the game, right?”
“But haven’t we been walking too long?”
“Are you counting steps or something?” Harry chuckled.
“Stop answering my questions with a question,” she said.
He made a thoughtful, rumbly sound. “Hmm. So, it’s only okay whenyoudo that?”
“Harry, we’re walking uphill. I can tell. You’re lying to me.”
“Less talking. More walking.” His thumb grazed the tender inside of her elbow, back and forth. Soothing.
They stopped. Rowan could tell where they were based on the scent alone. The musky green sweetness of her compost pile, the funky, acrid scent of tomato fertilizer, and the delicate perfume of the honeysuckle sprawling up a trellis she’d constructed herself last summer. Grass gave way to fine gravel underfoot, and Harry pulled her to a stop. Through the blindfold, she saw the yellow glow of a bug light. The unmistakable creak of the greenhouse door confirmed where they were.
“I’m going to take off the blindfold, but you can’t open your eyes until I say, okay?”
