"Why?"
"I'll have to tie you up until you agree to marry me."
She laughed and time stopped, just a little.
Pragmatically, I knew it was impossible for time to stop just a little. Time is relative, and can be slowed-theoretically-but cannot be halted. Not outside of a particle collider experiment gone horribly wrong and/or a black hole.
But when Marie laughed, when her mouth curved in a perfect arch, when her eyes became the combined colors of hydrogen on the visible light spectrum, when the manifestation of happiness as perfect music passed her lips, then time stopped.
Just a little.
I've never been a funny guy, not purposefully. Not until Marie. Not until I heard her laugh for the first time. Everything about it was addictive. You have to want to talk to people in order to have an occasion to be funny, and there were only two things I enjoyed as much as talking to Marie.
One involved her cooking, the other involved her body, and both involved eating.
"I know what I like." I shrugged, licking my lips, poised to pounce as soon as she finished pressing the white shavings to the frosting.
I have no shame when it comes to-
"Coconut." Her tone was flat but also teasing, and she lifted an eyebrow at me.
"Yes." I was hovering, but no aspersions ought to be cast on account of my hovering. She knew how I felt about coconut before she made the cake. Nothing about my hovering should have been surprising.
"You're coconut crazy. For your birthday, I'm going to get one of those coconut bras."
I blinked and then stared at the most amazing woman on the planet (not a controversial claim). "That would be so awesome."
She chuckled, wiping her hands on a towel.
I was already reaching behind her for the plates. "Are you finished? Can we eat-"
"Na-ah," she pushed at my chest, backing me out of the kitchen. "Not yet."
"What?" I sounded panicked because I was panicked. I'd been forced to watch her bake for the last three hours, the alluring aroma of toasted coconut and baked coconut permeating the air.
And now we weren't going to eat it? Perhaps she was a closet sadist.
I can work with that.
Marie steered me into the bedroom. "I want you to take off your clothes."
I immediately removed my shirt and then unbuckled my belt, not needing to be told twice. "Please tell me we're going to eat that cake naked," I bent to her ear and whispered while I unzipped my pants, "off each other."
"No." She shivered, then she added, "Maybe. I don't know. Possibly."
I kissed and then bit her neck.
She shivered again. "Okay, yes. We can do that. But first," she braced her hands on my shoulders and held me away, "first you need to lie on the bed."
I lifted an eyebrow at her command and the nervous tremor in her tone. "Marie . . ."
"Please?" She was biting her lip now and had dropped her hands from my arms, twisting her fingers. "I need to do something and I need you to lie down."
I inspected her. She was definitely nervous. "Okay. Fine."
Stepping out of my pants, I lay on the bed as instructed, tracking her every movement as she reached into her nightstand with lightly shaking fingers and pulled out a length of rope.
She reached for one of my hands and I stiffened. "What's the rope for?" She'd never tied me up before.
"It's not rope, see?" Marie trailed the edge of it over my abdomen, placing her knee on the mattress next to me. "It's knit, and made of silk and bamboo."
"It's fancy rope."
"Now we won't have to ruin your ties."
"I don't consider them ruined."
She huffed. "It's very soft."
"It's soft, fancy rope."
Marie set her teeth and glared at me. "You've tied me up. Why can't I tie you up?"
"After months of being regulated to the friend zone, I don't like the idea of my movements being restricted."
The side of her mouth lifted, but her glare persisted. "Listen, just give me five minutes, okay?"
I examined her, the stubborn set of her jaw, and her appearance of anxiety. "Why are you nervous?"
She huffed again. "You'll find out once I tie you up."
"You'll release me if I ask?"
"Of course." She touched my wrist again and this time I allowed her to secure me to the headboard. Once that was done, she reached for my other wrist and tied it as she straddled my waist, her breasts-sadly still encased in her dress and bra-were in my face.
Testing the knot twice, she jumped from the bed and searched the second drawer of the nightstand. Apparently finding what she was after, she straightened and faced me, her hands behind her back, looking very serious.
"Matt."