Page 44 of Coiled Tight
He’d insisted on grabbing both of our suitcases, so I wasjust following him up the stairs to what I assumed were two guest rooms. Or one room with two actual beds. Sofía had said she used to come with him, so there was no way they’d be sharing. Unless, of course, he didn’t make this pit stop with his sister.
It would make sense if he was more intimately acquainted with Damian’s playroom than what he’d hinted at.
“Um.” I fidgeted.
“What’s wrong?”
Saúl let his suitcase rest against one of the black wooden doors. Damian had gone heavy on the gothic feel of this place. It was all blacks and dark reds and velvets and lace. Bordering too close on tacky to make me comfortable, but I tried not to focus on something else that would unsettle me. I had my smart moments.
“Where’s the playroom?”
He cocked his head to the side. I supposed it was a fair reaction. I’d already accepted that shit flew out of my mouth and fuck the timing, but it took people a while to fully accept the aftermath of it.
“In the basement,” he said. “Let me take the suitcases to our rooms, and we can talk about it before we shower. There’s a shared en-suite.”
“Oh.” My eyes widened. “You don’t have to wait, I mean, I know you like to shower after being in the truck so long. It’s fine.”
“I don’t want you needing to pop out another Xanax if we’re heading in the direction we are,” Saúl reasoned as if this was the most natural thing to be talking about, “so yeah, I do have to wait.”
A knot built in my throat. No one justwaited, put their needs aside,because it would make it easier on me.
“Okay.”
I wondered how the sound carried, if Damian was gettinga first-seat row to what a mess I was, but we were soon inside the second room to the right, and Saúl was closing the door behind us.
At least the inside of the guest rooms wasn’t as gaudy. Still a tad dark for my taste, but no signs of velvet or lace or anything creepy other than a few touches of black and red with a couple white accents in the handles of the drawers, and a bed with four wooden posts I could appreciate.
“So.” Saúl rubbed his hands. “Tell me what you want.”
“You’re not going to make me go through my experience first?”
“No.” He shook his head, moving closer to me until his chest hit my back. I could see his fingers curling with an itch to touch I knew all too well, but he kept his hands to his sides. “That goes later.”
Breathe, in and out.
Remembering the basic function shouldn’t be this much of a challenge.
“I don’t know what we can do,” I admitted. “You said you don’t do impact before?—”
“We could argue that I already know you quite well,” he said. Now, he moved his hands closer, until he was trailing his fingers up the bare skin in my arms. “But I’m not planning ascenejust yet. Just getting a read on you.”
I closed my eyes. My heartbeat slowed down a bit if there was only the touch to focus on, and not the information I was getting from every other sense.
“Um. Right.” I cleared my throat, curling my fingers into fists once, twice, just to have an outlet for the energy coursing through me. “I want to get out of my head. I want to just feel.”
Saúl hummed, and then?—
“Good boy.”
And then he had to go and say the magic words, thestupidly simple praise that was everyone’s Kryptonite as far as I was concerned. It couldn’t be just me, could it?
“S-Saúl.”
His fingers splayed over my stomach, pressing without forcing me to lie against his back.
“Turn around, Cam.”
I didn’t know that I could get my feet to work. My knees wobbled.
