Page 62 of Binding Their Hearts

A furrow formed in the place he’d kissed. “Won’t that cost more?”

He held his laugh to a puff of air; that much he could manage. “Consider the expense of the move relative to the expense of the house, dearest. I assure you, my billfold can sustain the additional injury. And would rather do so if the alternative is the two of you working yourselves to death trying to pack up my hoarded goods.”

As her face lightened, he slowly spun her loose from Jay’s embrace and delivered a proper kiss with enough heat behind it to remind her that she was far more than a cog in a machine here. The heady rush of control scoured the doubts from his own system, and he measured success by her breathless seeking for more at each teasing retreat.

With the experience from leading countless dance partners, he pinned her between himself and Jay, and broke the kiss only to grant Jay the same favor. The shape of their lips, the taste, the heat of their bodies—both different, both individual. But there came a moment in each kiss when his lovers grew pliant—typically faster for Jay—their reactions languid and dreamlike, their movements easily influenced by his subtle touches. Such a small thing, but that shift in their responses woke the forge and stoked the fire. He drew back, saving the heat for later, savoring the crackling sparks as Jay uttered a low, breathy whine.

“I appreciate all of the excellent work the two of you have accomplished this afternoon”—he leveled his gaze so they could not mistake his sincerity—“and I have different activities in mind for the rest of the evening. Jay.”

Jay snapped to attention, his focus full and immediate.

“I have two tasks for you, my very best boy.” He subdued his smile at the instantaneous wriggle. “First, you will run Alice a hot bath, please. Second, you will dress comfortably and enjoy yourself outside for an hour, either on foot or by bike, and I will call you with instructions for where and when to collect our dinner on your way home.”

The kitchen, being a certified disaster area, would hardly give him a pleasurable and relaxing evening of cooking. In two broad strokes, he’d solved three problems. How quickly a shift in perspective precipitated a shift in attitude.

Jay bowed his head. “Thank you, Henry.”

He finger-combed the hair back again simply for the joy the contact gave them both. “I have every faith in you. You may begin.”

Navigating as though the boxes posed no obstacle, Jay smoothly disappeared down the hallway.

“A bath, huh?” Alice twined her arms in front of her and stretched. “Sounds decadent.”

He hummed soft agreement, allowing amusement to peek through. “Fetch your silver toy from the dresser first, sweet girl. Had I been thinking this morning, we would have made packing an immensely more interesting challenge.”

Dawning recognition swept charmingly across her face as a pale blush followed. “But we haven’t—not in weeks—”

“Yet we have celebrations rushing quickly toward us that might call for such play.” The developing plan for her birthday later this month would grow more complicated if he permitted her tension to close off entire avenues of exploration. “Enjoy your hour in the bath, Alice. And if you find yourself so inclined, you may wear your plug during dinner.”

The sparkle returned to her eyes, their impossibly shifting hazel kaleidoscope a trick of the light and the muscles controlling the iris, but magical all the same. “Thank you, Henry.”

A gracious tilt of his head sent her on her way. If she did feel such an inclination, their after-dinner options would expand dramatically. Perhaps a few sturdy boxes could be useful after all.

Chapter twenty-nine

Alice

Three-quarters of the living room could’ve doubled for a warehouse, but they just might survive this move. Leaning back against the breakfast bar, elbows propping her up, Alice surveyed their work. If everything went perfectly—knock wood, her mom would say, and she obligingly executed the meaningless gesture with her heel three times against the cabinet—the movers would start working their magic in fourteen hours, give or take, and tomorrow at this time they’d be sitting down to their first dinner in the new house.

“What did you say we’re having?” She rolled her neck, easing the strain of too many hours spent hunched over her computer, her voice raised to reach Henry as he strolled back into the kitchen. “Colombian?”

“Venezuelan. Black beans, wild mushrooms, sauteed plantains…” He bracketed her body and teased a kiss but drew back as she parted her lips. “And the joy of letting someone else do the cooking.”

“Do you hate it?” She’d never questioned their dinner routine—Henry cooked, end of story. He had the power to choose their meals, and he seemed to love being in the kitchen.

“I am not delighted by the disruption to our rituals or being held hostage to another’s timetable, but no, I don’t hate relying upon restaurant meals. The dishes are impeccable, well worth the forty-five minutes for delivery service.” He glanced toward the door as if the building buzzer could go off any second even though he’d just placed the call.

“No, I mean cooking. You sound”—tired would be too pedestrian for Henry—“weary.”

He hummed softly. “It has been a long week, that’s true. A long two weeks. As much as I love cooking for the three of us, I would rather not do so when my best tools are sealed away behind cardboard and tape.”

“Kinda sorry I’m going to miss the excitement tomorrow.” The movers Henry had hired belonged to some femdom from the club. Her stable of buff submissives would cheerfully tote their cartons from an apartment with no elevator to a house with no elevator. Not so long ago, she would’ve worried that the recommendation from Emma was a cover for trying to get closer to Henry. Today, she basked in exhausted gratitude that they had good enough friends that her only focus had been getting the Douglas project specs out on time—which she’d done, with twenty-three minutes to spare. She’d made it home on time for a second night in a row. Might even make a habit of it. “Hauling and loading all this stuff is gonna be a heck of a show.”

Every corner of the apartment held memories, all of them rich and fresh, because they’d happened in a rush. The most exhilarating sixteen months of her life—so far—played out like one of those picture-a-day videos everywhere she stepped. So many firsts had happened within these walls. But the pieces would come with them. Henry hadn’t mentioned the size of the truck, but given the amount of belongings, the cubic feet would—

“A dozen pennies for your thoughts, dear girl.” He made a curious study of her face, his gaze intent and searching as he lifted her chin with thumb and forefinger. “You’ve gone adventuring somewhere.”

“Somewhen, I think.” She shook off the foggy mood, the wistful tendrils trying to curl around her synapses. The men who’d made the moments here special would still be beside her. More than that—they’d be hers, fully, even if their ceremony wouldn’t be the spectacle Mom had always promised she’d want someday. She still didn’t know what she was wearing. Henry choosing acres of white lace and a train seemed highly unlikely. She’d find out Sunday, minutes before she stepped into the dress. Outfit? Their wedding was technically a collaring ceremony at a kink club. For all she knew, she’d be stark naked in front of dozens of Henry’s closest acquaintances. And at least a handful of friends—Will and Emma; Leah and Drew; Stephen and Claudia and Charlie; Daniel; maybe even Tyler, Jay’s younger lookalike. “I’m not sure what I’m thinking. Just jumping. My mind won’t settle. A dozen pennies?”

---