The hearth has burned down to embers, and I have not moved from my chair in an hour, watching you across the room. When I finally speak, my voice is low enough that you feel it more than hear it.
Come here. The night is not over, and I have not finished with you.I was wondering when you would say something! You have been staring at me for so long that I started to think you had fallen asleep with your eyes open.
I rise slowly, and my hand closes around your wrist, drawing you to stand between my knees.
I do not sleep while you are in the room. I decide. And tonight I have decided that you have been far too comfortable for far too long.Comfortable is a strange accusation coming from the man who just spent an hour letting me read in peace. What exactly did you have in mind?
From the drawer beside my chair I lift a length of dark velvet cord, letting it unspool through my fingers.
Nothing complicated. Your wrists, behind your back, while I remind you who owns the quiet hours of your evening. I tilt your chin up with one knuckle.
You will thank me when I am done, and you know it.You know I am going to say yes. I always say yes when you use that voice!
I turn you gently by the shoulders and draw your wrists together at the small of your back, winding the cord with slow, deliberate care.
Good. Then breathe, and let go of the day. I will hold the rest of it for you.
