My mouth crashes into hers, messy and desperate that I don’t even think about the fact that someone might see.
This is the only way I know how to breathe sometimes.
She moans against my mouth, her fingers tangling in the front of my hoodie, tugging me closer.
I grind into her once—just enough to make her gasp then lean back.
“You keep looking at me like that during dinner, I’m gonna drag you into this car and fog the windows until Carter starts knocking.”
“I wasn’t even trying,”
“That’s always the fucking problem isn’t it pretty girl?”
She grabs the front of my hoodie again and yanks me down for one more kiss. When we finally come up for air, she’s smiling.
“You good now?”
I nod and follow her back inside.
Dinner ends in a blur of chopsticks, half-eaten dumplings, and sauce packets scattered across the coffee table.
Cassie and James take the hint when Carter fake-yawns and starts gathering takeout boxes with too much enthusiasm. Haven walks them to the door with a smile, but soon as the door shuts, the energy shifts. She exhales as she leans her head against the door for a second. “I love her, but I need someone to mop my brain.”
Carter grins. “I call the rest of trash duty.”
I nod toward the leaning tower of paper containers on the coffee table. “Then I’ll disinfect.”
Haven peeks over her shoulder at me. “I’ll vacuum.”
She ends up refolding all the blankets instead, mumbling something about the throw pillows being “chaotic bisexuals” and trying to color-code them on her couch.
Carter finishes trash duty first, so he heads to the kitchen to wash up. I wipe down the coffee table, clean off the surfaces, and re-stack the coasters in a perfect little square, ignoring the twitch in my fingers that wants to control everything.
When I glance over at Haven, she’s crouched by the bookshelf, straightening a stack of half-empty notebooks. Her tank top’s slipped slightly, one bra strap visible, a thin line of her back calling to me like a goddamn siren.
That’s when the idea hits.
My hand slides into my bag by the desk. I tug out the rope. Soft black, silk blend. One I purchased as soon as I knew we’d be coming to visit.
I let it slide between my fingers, the texture instantly grounding, instantly dangerous.
Haven doesn’t notice I’ve moved behind her until the first loop of it slides across the back of her thighs.
She gasps and straightens as she turns to find me behind her, tbr rope draped casually over my shoulder, one brow arched.
“Really?”
Carter walks back in from the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel and freezes when he sees the rope in my hands. “I thought we were cleaning.”
“Weare,” I say, circling Haven like a predator, rope brushing her hips, “starting with her head.”
Carter laughs softly but doesn’t stop me.
Haven bites her lip. “Well. Ididsay I needed help unwinding.”
I back her up slowly, one hand gripping her jaw, tilting her face toward mine. “You’re going to go lay down on your bed, and you’re gonna let me tie you up while Carter worships every inch of you.”
We don’t waste time heading to her room. I dim her lights before I make her kneel first, just long enough to loop the first knot behind her back, then lift her onto the bed. Carter kisses her like she’s made of glass, his hands everywhere she needs them.