Page 22 of Salacious Devotion

I have to place a grocery order. She’ll need clothes and toiletries, especially if she doesn’t return to her apartment. My brain won’t shut down. I can’t even close my eyes.

I stare at the side of her face for a long time. It’s the same as it was three years ago. I can’t see a lot of evidence that she’s aged. Maybe more worry lines between her brows, but she definitely earned those.

Suddenly, Paige murmurs, “Cuffs.”

I startle. I thought she was sleeping.

She turns in my arms. “Get them, Dane.”

I frown. Is she talking in her sleep? I have no idea what she’s talking about.

She sits upright. “Get a pair of nylon cuffs. I’m sure you have some in this apartment.”

“What on Earth for?” I stroke her face, staring up at her.

She rolls her eyes and sighs in exasperation. “Just get them.”

Unable to deny her, I rise from the bed and shuffle over to the bathroom. I turn on the light and lower it to dim before I head for the armoire. I’m baffled while I open a drawer and grab a pair of black nylon cuffs, the kind that fastens with Velcro around the wrist.

When I return to the bed, Paige holds out her hand. “Put one on me.”

I indulge her and wrap it around her right wrist.

“Good.” She takes the other one and puts it on my left wrist before adjusting the strap so that our hands are cinched together. “There.”

I smile at her. “What the hell, baby?”

She lowers to her left side. “Slide under the covers.”

I slip in, facing her, chest-to-chest. Our combined hands rest between us.

She scoots closer so that her chest is against mine. “Lie on your back,” she orders. So bossy.

Doing as she instructs, I lower to the bed.

She pulls the covers over us and snuggles into my side, one of her small legs over mine, our bound hands against my chest. “There. Now, stop thinking so hard. People in the next building are restless because of how hard you’re thinking. I can’t get away, and if we’ve fallen into another dimension, we’re stuck in it together. We’re tethered to one another.” She gives a slight tug. “See?”

I chuckle. Her reasoning is warped madness, but I like it. It’s so totally on par with the Paige I remember.

“I need you at your sharpest in the morning. We have lots of decisions to make. You can’t stay up all night. I’m not going anywhere. I can’t. I’m cuffed to you.”

“It’s not like it requires a key,” I point out.

She sits up again, reaches with her other hand, and gives a tug to the Velcro. In the silence of the room, it’s like blaring music. She seals it again and resumes her place against my chest. “See? No escaping. Velcro is fucking loud when you try to remove it. Neither of us could sleep through something like that.”

She has a point. It’s still warped, but it’s a valid point. “And you’re confident if one of us were to slip into another dimension, the other would be forced to go along?” I tease.

“Definitely. Have you no imagination? Have you never read a science fiction novel?” She scoffs.

I chuckle so hard that both of our bodies shake. Fuck me. It really is her.

Closing my eyes, I nuzzle the top of her head. I love you.

It wouldn’t be right to blurt that out tonight, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to wait more than a few days to make sure my woman knows she is deeply loved. Never again will she think it’s okay to enter some godforsaken witness protection program without me.

Chapter 8

Paige

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