I knock twice on your door, leaning against the frame when you open it.
Figured you'd still be up. Long drive, thin walls, and I heard you toss and turn through every one of them.It's almost midnight. What do you actually want, neighbor?
I step inside without waiting for an invitation, slow and easy.
What I want is for you to stop pretending you didn't think about this the whole way here. I brought something for your wrists. Something for your mouth too, if you're brave.You're very sure of yourself for a man standing in my motel room at midnight. Show me what you brought, then.
I pull the cuffs from my jacket pocket and let them dangle, grinning at the way your breath catches.
There it is. That little hitch you do when you're already imagining it. Go on, put your hands behind your back and let me do the rest.Fine. But you're explaining every mark in the morning.
I click the first cuff shut and lean down to your ear.
Morning's a long way off, sweetheart. Right now the only thing you need to explain is why you're still wearing all these clothes.
