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“Not forgiven yet.” With a quick glance at her watch, she interlaces our fingers and tugs me toward the door. “But I’ll give you thirty minutes to convince me.”

“Thirty minutes, huh?” I say to her back as I follow her up the stairs toward her bedroom.

At the landing, she pauses and turns.

“Not up for the challenge, Trouble?”

With a near growl, I tighten my grip around her thin fingers and shoulder past, practically dragging her behind me into the master bedroom.

3

Randi

Oh hell, I don't have time for this, or the energy, but him between my thighs might be just what I need to survive this day. My chest aches with the growing ball of stress building behind my breastbone. I wasn't exaggerating downstairs. I can’t add any additional complications to this day. But even though Trey is one of those complications adding to my strain, the second he walked into the room, everything felt easier. Almost like his presence alone offered the reassurance of an extra shoulder to help carry the weight piled on my own. How he does it, I don't know.

Tricky Trouble. That's his new name. Because somehow with his simple yet sincere rambling speech, him not showing up last night no longer feels like an attempt to keep a shady secret involving Jessica away from me. It cleared the growing suspicion and doused my self-doubt.

And what a speech it was. He really would make a great politician if his heart was in it. Addressing the fact that our miscommunications, disappointments, and unintentional hurt will happen again was like gaining a “get out of jail free” card for future use. And curiously enough, I'm okay with it. Because in all honesty, I'm terrible at this relationship stuff. The only serious relationship I had was when I was fifteen, and I ended up alone and pregnant—not really a high bar to set for future relationships. But what makes Trey special is I'd rather be with him, knowing pain and headache will happen, than never experience the highs, laughter, and smiles that come with being with him.

Maybe that’s the simplest sign of true love. When the hard work, the fighting for each other is worth it because you have each other in the end.

A hard shove against my shoulder sends me tumbling back to the bed, a wide smile splitting my face as I sink into the cloudlike down comforter.

“Thirty minutes, you say,” he muses while rubbing along his clean-shaven jaw. He sinks his teeth into his full lower lip, his heated gaze slowly scanning down my body. “First, these need to go.” With deft fingers, he makes quick work of the top button of my skinny jeans and the zipper quickly follows. With an impatient tug, they pool around my feet. Watching him, my breaths turn to short, needy pants as he stares fixated at the apex of my thighs, sliding the tip of his tongue along the edge of his straight white teeth.

After discarding the jeans, he pulls the long sleeve T-shirt over my head. I cringe internally as he unclasps the plain nude bra I’d chosen this morning, not thinking anyone would see it today. The self-conscious thought vanishes as the tips of his finger trail down my bare arms when he slides the straps from my shoulders. With a flick of his wrist, it flutters to the floor, adding to the growing pile.

Every article of clothing is gone—except one.

“Aren't you forgetting something?” I ask with a pointed glance to my sailing unicorn-printed boy shorts. Okay, not the sexiest things to be wearing, but to my defense, I figured I’d be the only one to see these. At least I shaved my legs yesterday for the party. Thank unicorns for small miracles.

Trey shakes his head with his signature mischievous smirk tugging at his lips.

“You and unicorns.”

“They’re the best of all the mythical creatures. They have a weapon on their heads.” Duh.

Without another word, he turns, sliding his leather harness off his shoulders as he walks toward the bathroom. The harness and two sidearms clunk to the top of the dresser before Trey disappears through the door. When he reappears, his smirk has grown to a full grin. Displaying his prize in his raised hands, he stretches the long white tie from my robe and yanks it tight, twisting the ends around his fists.

I seal my thighs together, hoping to quell the pulling need between them. With a deep shuddering breath, knowing magical things are to come, I relax against the bed and wait.

The mattress dips by my feet.

“Arms above your head, baby. Wrists together.”

Maybe a little too eagerly, I slide my arms up the smooth fabric of the duvet, stretching them high above my head. Trey makes quick work of binding both wrists together before testing the tie once to ensure it's not too tight. The bed shifts again as he hops off to round the footboard, coming to stand on the other side. Tipping my head back, chin to the ceiling, I try to figure out what he’s up to. The binding tightens and tugs, stretching my arms even higher as he secures it to something I can't see.

Trey's handsome face fills my vision as he leans over the bed, hands on either side of my head. Deliberately slow, he lowers his face to mine. His fuller lower lip presses between the seam of my own, sucking mine between his lips in an erotic upside-down kiss. Dotting light kisses along my cheek and sucking down my neck, he caresses his calloused palms over my shoulders before skimming down to cup both breasts. I don’t hold my low moan of need back.

I gasp, eyes sealing shut at the bite of pain as Trey pinches both pebbled nipples and twists. There’s no dignity in my whimper, not that I care in this moment. The curve of his lips along my shoulder tells me he's smiling through the delicious torment. Too soon his lips lift from my overly sensitive skin and his hands pull away from my aching nipples with one last torturous pinch.

“Trey,” I beg. Opening my eyes, I lift my head as high as I can with my hands tied, searching the room. “Where are you?”

“I think you've seen enough.” He chuckles behind me before sliding something soft over my eyes. I blink frantically behind the material. It allows light to pass through the cloth but prevents me from seeing anything. A few strands of hair tighten painfully as whatever is around my eyes is secured behind my head. “Now, be a good girl and stay quiet. I'll be back.”

“No,” I gasp. Panic sets in. Yanking at my arms, I fight the hold while rotating my head back and forth along the bed, attempting to dislodge the material covering my eyes. “Trey, get your ass back here,” I hiss quietly. Surrounded by agents trained to protect me, yelling out in my current naked and tied state seems very, very unwise.

No response.