I am thankful I splurged on the handcuffs with the pink fur. Max will unlock me eventually, it's just a matter of how long he is going to be unconscious. The fur on my wrists makes it a bit more tolerable. I glare at Max, sprawled on the wood floor to my left, halfway out of the bathroom in his boxers, wasted and out cold.
I am furious with Max’s use of recreational substances; that had all but disappeared until recently. Stress from the impending wedding must have been the catalyst, but it is no excuse. Had I thought about that, I would never have agreed to this game tonight. He seemed well enough at the time, though.
I glance around the bedroom trying to calm down. There is his hiking gear on the floor, my books and magazines stacked up like little towers along the far wall, our bedroom chair with clothes piled high, all giving our place a lived-in look, a code for messy. My ceiling could use a coat of paint, the walls, too. It doesn’t matter, though, because in just a few weeks, I’ll be Mrs. Maxwell O’Byrne, and our house will be ready to move into any day now.
My fingers feel as if they are going numb. Can I lose my fingers this way? How can I wear my wedding ring without fingers?
Suddenly, I think I hear a knock. “You guys home?” That can only be Jack’s voice!
An instant wave of relief washes over me as I yell. “Jack! Thank God!” I’m surprised he’s here at this hour, but who am I to question a miracle.
“Kat? You okay in there?”
“Yes and No.” My enthusiasm fades as I beg. “Please tell me you have a key to my apartment.”
“Yeah, um, I think . . . it’s in my car. You want me to come in?”
“Please! Go get your key and come in. I’m stuck.”
“I’ll be right back. Sit tight!”
Not a problem, I think to myself. I mentally picture Jack in his custom Italian suit flying down the stairs, climbing into his black BMW and finding my key, before running back up the steps to save me, like the perfect best friend he is. Then, I suddenly realize that Jack will see not only me in my lingerie, but Max will also be a complete embarrassment from where he’s passed out on the floor.
Why does Jack have to be super successful and completely “together” all the time? He never gets flustered or loses his cool. It makes it so much more embarrassing for people like Max and me needing his help. If I am being completely honest with myself, it’s his devilish good looks that makes this so embarrassing. Ok, maybe it just doesn’t matter who finds you, it’s just looks bad.
My thoughts are once again interrupted as I hear the lock click and the door creak open. Oh dear, this is really happening.
“Kat, where are you?” His confident voice fills my apartment.
“Jack Prescott!” I say, sounding like a schoolteacher. “I need you to stop for a second.”
“What? Ok.” He is now right outside the door.
“I’m in the bedroom. Don’t come in yet. I have to explain.”
“Oh, no. What happened?” Poor guy sounds freaked.
“Something happened this evening, and it didn’t go as planned.” I sigh. “Now you can come in.”
The half-closed bedroom door slowly creaks open, and Jack walks in, larger than life in one of his beautiful midnight blue suits, a crisp light blue paisley tie, and his dark GQ hair. He lets out a big laugh. “Oh, good lord, Kat!”
I attempt a wave with my little hand that is cuffed to my headboard. The punchline to all of this is either the matching fur-trimmed bra and undies that coordinate with the handcuffs, or the unconscious Max.
In only a few seconds, Jack takes in the whole scene. “I don’t know who to help first.”
“Really? Not the jackass on the floor is your answer.” I snap. Then I put on my best pout and say, “The keys should be in my nightstand.”
“Let me get something to cover you up.”
“You’ve seen me already, just unlock me. My hands are blue.”
Jack sits beside me on the bed and opens my nightstand drawer. Crap. I wince when I realize what else is inside.
“I um, don’t seem to be finding a set of keys.” He is now belly laughing. “Kat, how many sex toys can a girl have?”
“Just. Find. The. Keys.” My voice is barely above a whisper.
He glances sideways at me. “You know, if Max was better in bed, you wouldn’t need a drawer full of these.” He holds up something that is bright purple. “Wow, what does this do?” His blue eyes seem to be stuck wide open.
I glare. “Use your imagination.” I pause. “Now, do you mind?”
“Sorry, I’ll focus.” He quickly goes back to digging. “Found a key. It’s pink.” A slow mischievous smile spreads over his handsome face as he looks at me and then at the pink handcuffs. “This looks promising.”
“His travel schedule can be very . . . ” I sigh as I say, “frustrating.” I now move my weight just a bit, as my ass has gone numb. “Plus, Max is very good in bed.”
Jack glances over at him. “Yeah, he’s a real Casanova.”
He leans over me, fiddling with the cuffs, as I take in his cologne, which I have always found very comforting, but right now is quite intoxicating. I feel a flutter begin to build in my stomach. Here it’s almost nine o’clock at night and he still looks and smells as crisp and clean as he does at eight A.M.
“You know, Max seems to be falling back on his old habits from college.”
Jack’s comment abruptly brings me back from my appreciation of him. “I’m aware of that.” I say as I glare up at him.
“Of course, you are. My apologies.” He tries not to laugh. “Can you move your right wrist a bit? Oh, I have it now. Sorry to crowd you.” His tie dangles in my face and then it slides slowly across my stomach. I giggle and squirm as my full chest rubs against his ribs, oops. He glances down at me with a small chuckle and, then with a small smile, turns his attention back to the cuffs.
He unlocks them and gently takes my wrists out. “You alright?” His blue eyes meet mine.
“Yes, thank you.” I nod. “I think my ego is hurting the most.” I glance at my open drawer with the colorful gadgets askew, plus I just rubbed my chest on him.
He smoothly closes the drawer. “Well.” He smiles at me with his kind eyes. “It’s just me, Kat.” He leans back and starts to move away when I see his eyes quickly glide the length of me.
I sit up, slide off the bed and reach for my robe, which is unfortunately now in a heap on the floor on the other side of the small room. I stand up. Jack is looking at me, and his eyes then meet mine. I press my lips together to try to hide my smile as I slowly wrap my robe and tie it around my waist. We stand, looking at one another for a second or two.
Jack suddenly looks uncomfortable. “I’ll get out of your way.” He walks over to Max and says, “Wake the fuck up.” He nudges him with his foot. Max does not budge. Jack sighs, “He’s impossible. How do you live like this?”
“I’m not quite sure.” I gaze at Max, a 225-pound man passed out on the floor. He’s a pathetic sight all on his own, but next to Jack, the contrast makes it even more dramatic. Even if Max were standing upright, he still falls short of Jack. While Jack is polished and meticulous in every way, Max is all frayed edges and wrinkles. His fun-loving personality shines through, but some days I think his rugged and casual lifestyle should come with a liability waiver.
My attention goes to Jack. I can’t help but wonder how life with a man like him would be. Jack would have dinner plans with reservations, trips that don’t include hiking, and never under any circumstances would he be out cold on the floor. “Thank you for saving me. Want to stay for a drink?” Better to act normal and not like he just watched me get dressed after I rubbed myself on him.
“You are more than welcome.” His hands in his pockets now. “It’s not every day I’m invited to have a cocktail with a woman in fur undergarments, but I’ve intruded enough on date night.”
“If you haven’t noticed, it’s more than over.” I said flatly.
He stands still, watching me for a moment. My heart races. What is he thinking? That I’m an idiot for marrying Max? How I look in my underwear? He nods, turning away and then pivots around to face me again. “Oh, here’s the key. You might want to make a charm bracelet out of this or something if you’re going to continue to play with him.”
I am thankful I splurged on the handcuffs with the pink fur. Max will unlock me eventually, it's just a matter of how long he is going to be unconscious. The fur on my wrists makes it a bit more tolerable. I glare at Max, sprawled on the wood floor to my left, halfway out of the bathroom in his boxers, wasted and out cold. I am furious with Max’s use of recreational substances; that had all but disappeared until recently. Stress from the impending wedding must have been the catalyst, but it is no excuse. Had I thought about that, I would never have agreed to this game tonight. He seemed well enough at the time, though. I glance around the bedroom trying to calm down. There is his hiking gear on the floor, my books and magazines stacked up like little towers along the far wall, our bedroom chair with clothes piled high, all giving our place a lived-in look, a code for messy. My ceiling could use a coat of paint, the walls, too. It doesn’t matter, though, because in just a few weeks, I’ll be Mrs. Maxwell O’Byrne, and our house will be ready to move into any day now. My fingers feel as if they are going numb. Can I lose my fingers this way? How can I wear my wedding ring without fingers? Suddenly, I think I hear a knock. “You guys home?” That can only be Jack’s voice! An instant wave of relief washes over me as I yell. “Jack! Thank God!” I’m surprised he’s here at this hour, but who am I to question a miracle. “Kat? You okay in there?” “Yes and No.” My enthusiasm fades as I beg. “Please tell me you have a key to my apartment.” “Yeah, um, I think . . . it’s in my car. You want me to come in?” “Please! Go get your key and come in. I’m stuck.” “I’ll be right back. Sit tight!” Not a problem, I think to myself. I mentally picture Jack in his custom Italian suit flying down the stairs, climbing into his black BMW and finding my key, before running back up the steps to save me, like the perfect best friend he is. Then, I suddenly realize that Jack will see not only me in my lingerie, but Max will also be a complete embarrassment from where he’s passed out on the floor. Why does Jack have to be super successful and completely “together” all the time? He never gets flustered or loses his cool. It makes it so much more embarrassing for people like Max and me needing his help. If I am being completely honest with myself, it’s his devilish good looks that makes this so embarrassing. Ok, maybe it just doesn’t matter who finds you, it’s just looks bad. My thoughts are once again interrupted as I hear the lock click and the door creak open. Oh dear, this is really happening. “Kat, where are you?” His confident voice fills my apartment. “Jack Prescott!” I say, sounding like a schoolteacher. “I need you to stop for a second.” “What? Ok.” He is now right outside the door. “I’m in the bedroom. Don’t come in yet. I have to explain.” “Oh, no. What happened?” Poor guy sounds freaked. “Something happened this evening, and it didn’t go as planned.” I sigh. “Now you can come in.” The half-closed bedroom door slowly creaks open, and Jack walks in, larger than life in one of his beautiful midnight blue suits, a crisp light blue paisley tie, and his dark GQ hair. He lets out a big laugh. “Oh, good lord, Kat!” I attempt a wave with my little hand that is cuffed to my headboard. The punchline to all of this is either the matching fur-trimmed bra and undies that coordinate with the handcuffs, or the unconscious Max. In only a few seconds, Jack takes in the whole scene. “I don’t know who to help first.” “Really? Not the jackass on the floor is your answer.” I snap. Then I put on my best pout and say, “The keys should be in my nightstand.” “Let me get something to cover you up.” “You’ve seen me already, just unlock me. My hands are blue.” Jack sits beside me on the bed and opens my nightstand drawer. Crap. I wince when I realize what else is inside. “I um, don’t seem to be finding a set of keys.” He is now belly laughing. “Kat, how many sex toys can a girl have?” “Just. Find. The. Keys.” My voice is barely above a whisper. He glances sideways at me. “You know, if Max was better in bed, you wouldn’t need a drawer full of these.” He holds up something that is bright purple. “Wow, what does this do?” His blue eyes seem to be stuck wide open. I glare. “Use your imagination.” I pause. “Now, do you mind?” “Sorry, I’ll focus.” He quickly goes back to digging. “Found a key. It’s pink.” A slow mischievous smile spreads over his handsome face as he looks at me and then at the pink handcuffs. “This looks promising.” “His travel schedule can be very . . . ” I sigh as I say, “frustrating.” I now move my weight just a bit, as my ass has gone numb. “Plus, Max is very good in bed.” Jack glances over at him. “Yeah, he’s a real Casanova.” He leans over me, fiddling with the cuffs, as I take in his cologne, which I have always found very comforting, but right now is quite intoxicating. I feel a flutter begin to build in my stomach. Here it’s almost nine o’clock at night and he still looks and smells as crisp and clean as he does at eight A.M. “You know, Max seems to be falling back on his old habits from college.” Jack’s comment abruptly brings me back from my appreciation of him. “I’m aware of that.” I say as I glare up at him. “Of course, you are. My apologies.” He tries not to laugh. “Can you move your right wrist a bit? Oh, I have it now. Sorry to crowd you.” His tie dangles in my face and then it slides slowly across my stomach. I giggle and squirm as my full chest rubs against his ribs, oops. He glances down at me with a small chuckle and, then with a small smile, turns his attention back to the cuffs. He unlocks them and gently takes my wrists out. “You alright?” His blue eyes meet mine. “Yes, thank you.” I nod. “I think my ego is hurting the most.” I glance at my open drawer with the colorful gadgets askew, plus I just rubbed my chest on him. He smoothly closes the drawer. “Well.” He smiles at me with his kind eyes. “It’s just me, Kat.” He leans back and starts to move away when I see his eyes quickly glide the length of me. I sit up, slide off the bed and reach for my robe, which is unfortunately now in a heap on the floor on the other side of the small room. I stand up. Jack is looking at me, and his eyes then meet mine. I press my lips together to try to hide my smile as I slowly wrap my robe and tie it around my waist. We stand, looking at one another for a second or two. Jack suddenly looks uncomfortable. “I’ll get out of your way.” He walks over to Max and says, “Wake the fuck up.” He nudges him with his foot. Max does not budge. Jack sighs, “He’s impossible. How do you live like this?” “I’m not quite sure.” I gaze at Max, a 225-pound man passed out on the floor. He’s a pathetic sight all on his own, but next to Jack, the contrast makes it even more dramatic. Even if Max were standing upright, he still falls short of Jack. While Jack is polished and meticulous in every way, Max is all frayed edges and wrinkles. His fun-loving personality shines through, but some days I think his rugged and casual lifestyle should come with a liability waiver. My attention goes to Jack. I can’t help but wonder how life with a man like him would be. Jack would have dinner plans with reservations, trips that don’t include hiking, and never under any circumstances would he be out cold on the floor. “Thank you for saving me. Want to stay for a drink?” Better to act normal and not like he just watched me get dressed after I rubbed myself on him. “You are more than welcome.” His hands in his pockets now. “It’s not every day I’m invited to have a cocktail with a woman in fur undergarments, but I’ve intruded enough on date night.” “If you haven’t noticed, it’s more than over.” I said flatly. He stands still, watching me for a moment. My heart races. What is he thinking? That I’m an idiot for marrying Max? How I look in my underwear? He nods, turning away and then pivots around to face me again. “Oh, here’s the key. You might want to make a charm bracelet out of this or something if you’re going to continue to play with him.”