“Leave it, Harlow.”
“Give me your other hand. Let’s step out on the rope.”
Another strangled cry of resistance despite his feet doing what I ask and his hand reaching out to my free one like a lifeline.
“Steady,” I murmur, the trembling of his hands more than noticeable.
“Can you just stop talking for a second?” he snaps at me, his eyes closing again as he emits a fortifying breath out of his mouth.
“Zane.”
“Stop saying my goddamn name. Christ.” But his eyes flash open and there’s a bit more color in his cheeks now.
“Are you afraid of heights?”
“What makes you say that?” His tone is flip but nerves waiver in his laugh. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“How’s it going up there you guys?” Tuck’s calls from the ground. He sounds so far away.
“Jesus Christ. He wants us to move,” Zane grits out.
He takes a tiny step farther and I follow.
“Well, that’s kind of the point. Moving across the rope.”
His glare is deserved but I don’t think he finds any amusement in my humor. “This is all your fault you know.” Feeling brave with his accusation, Zane moves another step and then makes the mistake of looking down. “Christ.”
I swear to God his pallor just turned from gray to green.
“My fault?”
“If you hadn’t lied about me giving you the job, I wouldn’t have to be here right now and then—”
“You’re going to put the blame on me? Didn’t you start this when you lied to Robert and told him you found love? Didn’t—”
“Will you just shut up?”
Nothing gets my back up more than being told that and just when I’m about to unload on him—in the middle of the air, being held up by ropes—I see it clear as day. His need to argue is to distract him from his fear. One snarky comment after another.
So for the first time ever, I abide by the request. I hold my tongue and take another shaky step to try and encourage him to do the same. A quick glance down shows the reflection of the camera following our every move, and I realize this is part of Zane’s macho maleness. His need to act manly because he’s on camera.
“Does this not terrify you?” he asks as I take another step and he stays rooted in place as the ropes wobble when a small breeze whips through the space we’re in. “Shit.” He closes his eyes again to wait for the ropes to steady.
“Hey?”
“Not now, Cinder.”
“Look at me. C’mon, you can—you need—to trust me.”
“Why?” He chuckles. “It’s not like you’d be able to catch me if I fall.”
“You’re right. The ropes will catch you, but I’m still here. I’m the one who can work with you so you can get across this rope.”
He shakes his head in rejection but doesn’t speak. Another close of his eyes. Another slide of his feet along the rope. Another yelp of despair given under his breath.
“Remember the other night?” I ask.
“Fuck,” he mutters as the rope wobbles again.
“When you bent me over the edge of the bed?”
He stills, steadies his body with the help of mine. “Mmm-hmm.”
“I keep thinking about that thing you did.”
Distract. Divert.
Step.
“What’s that?”
“The grind. Your fingers. You slapping your cock against my pussy,” I say in terms he’ll hear, and by the flash of his emerald green eyes up to mine, I’d say it worked.
“Really?”
“Mmm-hmm,” I all but moan and then I take a larger step. When his breath hitches and he starts to look down, I shake my head. “Uh-uh. Look at me. Only at me.”
He shakes his head but the anxiety still owns his entire body.
“What’s your favorite position?”
“I’m a guy. As long as I’m inside you that’s all that—”
“That’s not an answer. Doggystyle?” Step. “Reverse Cowgirl?” Step. “Sixty-Nine?”
“If you’re trying to distract me, it’s not going to work. We’re a mile off the ground and—”
“And if I told you my panties were currently soaked just talking about having sex with you again . . . would that distract you?”
The muscle in his jaw tics as he stares at me. “Nothing fazes me, remember?” But when he says it, there is the shyest of smiles that replaces the tight pull of his lips from just seconds ago.
“Don’t look now, Zane, but only a couple more feet and we’ve made it.”
And of course he looks and then gasps when his lack of concentration throws us both off balance.
“See? You did it.” But I can see the panic return now that he’s taken notice again of where we are. “Don’t panic. C’mon. You’ve done great this far.”
“Will this ever end?” he groans.
“Just pick something to concentrate on.”
He snorts, his eyes glancing down to the V of my thighs. “Are you wearing panties today?”
“Wouldn’t you like to find out?”