"I like this," Greg said while tying my hands together with one of my silk ties. He was smiling like he just won an Academy Award. "I should have done this a long time ago."

"Because you like being in charge?" I had to ask. "Or because you were too damn lazy to find a tie?"

"A little of both. More of the former than the latter. But you know who's in charge already," he said, his eyes blazing with a combination of lust and need. "Why aren't you struggling to get away?"

"I don't want to."

"Mmmm...submissive and kinky. I like that too." He peeled off his shirt and absently tossed it on the floor. I couldn't help but lick my lips as he sat there in just a faded pair of jeans. He noticed and inched forward, drawing it all out for as long as possible. The bastard.

"I knew you would," I replied with a knowing grin.

"Did you now?"

"You know damn well I did."

"Well, you are right about that," he grinned back. "But there is one little detail that I don't like at the moment."

I raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You talk too much," he growled and pulled me forward, clasping my face with both hands.

"I was going to say the same thing about you," I panted, my heart galloping so hard it felt like it was going to burst through my chest. How the hell did I manage to stay away for three weeks?

"It seems we've reached a stalemate," he murmured, running those long musicians fingers through my hair. Good grief, I was going to completely lose it before the night was over. That's exactly what he wanted and exactly what he was going to get. "Whatever shall we do about it, Dr. Wilson?"

"Are you going to gag me now?"

"I was," he teased. Greg was so good at that, it was second nature. He wasn't even trying. "But that would make it much more difficult to kiss you. So I guess it's either you make me shut up by kissing me, or I make you shut up by gagging you. Which will it be, Jimmy?"

"Do I really have to answer?" I asked, leaning in closer.

"No."

"All right. I think we should be quiet now."

My mouth met his and all the anger, anxiety, dread, worry, fear over the past few weeks slipped away and joined his shirt on the floor as he pushed me back onto the pillows. It felt so good and so right to be back with him, back where I belonged, back to a place where I was wanted and needed. That was the feeling I had been looking for all my life and burned through three marriages before I found it in the last place I thought to look. Ah, well. Enough of that now. I just wanted to feel his body against mine and lose myself for a while. Let him fuck me into next week. It could be next month for all I cared. Thankfully Greg was thinking the exact same thing.

I glanced down while pouring the batter into the rescued frying pan. The chafe marks on my wrists would probably fade before morning. If not I could easily hide them under my shirt sleeves. The gigantic hickey on my neck was another story.

"Why don't you ever make blueberry pancakes?" Greg asked. He was looking at his handiwork and trying not to laugh.

"I don't like blueberry," I answered stoically, pretending not to notice him. "Plus you've never asked for them. I can't read your mind, Greg. You need to tell me these things."

"Put blueberries on your shopping list, Jimmy."

"I'll do that. How about strawberries?" I asked out of pure curiosity. He'd probably add to the list boysenberries just to see if I'd actually buy them.

"Yum. Sounds good to me. You might get me fat, but at least it will be with some good fucking food."

"I'm not making these every night," I said, turning to look at him. "I planning a real dinner for the near future."

"How soon is the near future?"

"Tomorrow night or the night after that."

"That is near. What's your idea of a 'real dinner'?"

"A pot roast, potatoes, and corn. Something that doesn't come in a can or plastic tray. You know, real food from the four food groups. Do you remember those?"

"Vaguely," he replied dryly.

"Well, I hope I get the chance to refresh your memory." I stacked four pancakes on a plate and handed it over. He accepted it with a faint chuckle.

"What's so funny?"

"You're going to the hospital tomorrow with a humongous hickey that everyone will know you got from me, and all you're worried about is dinner plans. I knew there was a reason I liked having you around." He turned to his plate before he could see my hand shoot up to my neck.

A scarf and band-aids would only make the truth more obvious.

He got me again.

I'll never learn.