Thomas
I enjoyed the movie more than I thought I would, and it had been fun just to hang out together. Usually that doesn't happen with us unless it's football season, but this impromptu was good. Daisy got along with both T.C. and Rick pretty well so that helped too.
I still wasn't sure how I felt about her, but it wasn't awkward and that was a relief. She'd thrown me a little with her comments about an ex-boyfriend, though, and because I had some spare time, I looked him up. Just being thorough about security—after all, she'd already had one stalker, right?
From his photo he was definitely a cowboy type, and older than I thought. Impressive resume of films and stunts to his credit, including the elaborate ones for the Scorpion Team movies, just as Daisy had told me. I noted that he was married now, and wondered if she knew that as well. She probably did, I guessed.
In any case, I felt a little better knowing he was on the mainland and not likely to come out to Honolulu anytime soon.
Another two weeks went by, and the Golden Doll commercial premiered. They'd edited it so that Daisy looked like she dropped out of a cloud, all smooth and professional. I was impressed; I'd had to do jumps during my time in the Navy and I never liked them myself, especially in the water since the one's I'd done were in much colder places than Hawaii.
Daisy barely cared. Her shoulder had healed up, and she had a few interviews lined up for a few more jobs, but she was restless. She spent a lot of time running the Lads and hitting the treadmill in the gym. So much so that Higgins took me aside.
"At this rate she will wear through the belt entirely," he sighed. "Post-performance agitation?"
"Part of it," I agreed, feeling a twist in my stomach. I knew she'd given her testimony to Lieutenant Tanaka, but there was an off-chance she'd have to face Isaac in court and I wondered if that was part of what had her riled. "I'm sure she's just anxious to get back to work. She's a lot more . . . physical than you or I."
"True," Higgins admitted reluctantly. "And I suppose it's far better than languishing. We will simply cope."
At sunset, I found her down at the beach, sitting with her bare feet in the water, sipping a beer and looking melancholy. She looked over and nodded so I joined her, slipping off my loafers.
"I can only have one," she hefted the can, "Because I know that's the safe and sane thing to do, but man, I could down a six pack right now and have no regrets," Daisy sighed.
"Stressed?"
"Yeah," came her confession. "I know I'm safe, and I know I've got work coming up, but I just can't . . . focus. Too much going on in my head and no way right now to . . . purge it. Not safely, anyway."
From her tone, I knew what she was obliquely referring to, and my stomach tensed a little. I didn't say anything, but I didn't shift away, either and Daisy sighed.
"Sorry. I just . . . you understand my inclination better than poor Higgins would," she added.
"He worries," I agreed. "And It comes out as irritation because it's hard for him to admit to a human emotion like caring."
"A few days ago, Apollo got a cut on one paw, and Higgins stopped by to given him a pep talk!" Daisy giggled. "Told him he'd be over it soon and back on patrol like the fine four-legged warrior he was, in fact."
I snickered too because it sounded completely like something Higgins would do.
"Anyway, I'll . . . cope. For now," Daisy shrugged. "Somewhere down the line I'll find someone who . . ."
". . . knows the ropes?" I blurted before I could stop myself. I felt my face flush as she shot me a wry look.
"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that, but . . . yeah. Not a matter of life and death here, but you know what it's like when you're on a stair, not sure if you're going up, or down."
I did, only too well. The Irish side of my family gave me my hazel eyes and my love of beer, but a lot of inner melancholy too, exacerbated by a few tragedies. I took a deep breath.
"I could . . . help," I offered before I regretted it. "If you'd like."
She shot me a stunned look. "Ohhh. That's . . . generous of you, but really . . ." Daisy trailed off and I knew I'd surprised her. "Are you . . . sure?"
"Yep," I replied, not at all sure, but what the hell. She needed help and I was right here. Might as well do what I could.
Daisy
Unbelievable. If you'd told me that Thomas would not only offer to do a scene with me, but also be willing to let me bind him, I would have laughed myself sick. He's a lot of things, but I have to add he's got unexpected courage too, which astounds me. Not everyone is up to something like this.
"So . . . the knots are slip, with the ends up, like this," I told him, tugging the last lashing on his left wrist. "Easy to undo with a quick tug. Not too tight?"
"No," he murmured, but I could see the flare of discomfort in his eyes. To counter it, I reached down and pulled the end of the rope; it unknotted and slid off his wrist in seconds. Thomas relaxed a bit, and I tied it up again the same way, leaving the end up.
"Quick release," I said reassuringly. "You can do it with your teeth if you need to at any time. Or when you say your word, I'll undo the ropes immediately."
"Stalag," he nodded. "Yeah. So . . ." he shifted a little. I'd settled him into one of the bamboo dining chairs down in the guest house, tying his ankles to the front legs, and his wrists to the arms. If I was doing things formally, I'd have looped rope around his chest and hips, but I needed him to be comfortable since I didn't think the session would be a long one.
I was already feeling better, even as I made sure Thomas was comfortable. That vibe was rising in me, bringing a little relief as I focused on him. I knelt down at his left side, one hand on his arm.
"Now what?" he asked, his expression wary. I suspected that all his previous times being tied up at probably been deeply unpleasant and painful, so this was definitely going above and beyond for me.
I would make it as good as I could for the man.
"I need your consent," I told Thomas. "I would like to touch your head and upper body. I would like to be able to move into your personal space."
"What?"
"Consent," I repeated softly. "You're in charge, Tomcat. We do nothing unless you agree to it. That's how it works."
He blinked at me, and I saw him take that in. Then he slowly nodded. "You . . . have my consent," he half-whispered. He still looked apprehensive, but Thomas swallowed hard, and I saw some of the tension leave his shoulders.
"Thank you," I told him, and rose up, feeling slightly giddy. I stood in front of him, looking at my knotwork with delight. Ankles bound, wrists bound, expression alert: Thomas Magnum was just where I needed him to be.
"You can't move," I murmured. "Only feel. Rope against skin, keeping you here." I reached out and slid my hands over his, gliding them over the knots and up his arms to his elbows. Skin was warm but slightly clammy; he was still nervous, then. I stroked my way back down his arms to his fingertips, toying with them one at a time. Thomas let me, watching intently.
"Big hands, strong hands. Hands that have done violence and given care. Hands that have pushed and caressed." I moved my touch to his palms, running my nails over that tender skin and he squirmed slightly.
"Tickles," Thomas complained in a slightly strained tone. I shifted around him, moving behind him as I dropped my hands on his shoulders. I didn't move them, just let them rest there for a minute, building heat from my palms through the thin Hawaiian shirt he wore.
"I bet you tend to run warm, temperature-wise," I murmured. Slowly I moved my hands up each shoulder, sliding them to the sides of his neck, brushing muscles there. I rubbed my thumbs along his upper spine and that made Thomas groan a little. So easy to slip into the zone, now. Feeling light and strong.
When I lightly raked my hands through his hair, very gently scraping his scalp, that moan came again, like music. I caught a curl and lightly tugged—not enough to hurt, but he felt it, I know. I bent down and let my hot breath caress his ear. "Strong," I repeated in a whisper. "In control. More powerful than you know, Tomcat."
He wasn't a curser, but when a certain four-letter word escaped him, I wriggled. Definitely getting to the man now, and it felt like time was slowing down. I brushed my cheek against his, feeling the soft scrape of his whiskers as I did so.
"I am savoring this," I confessed. "Your scent, and your struggle here. All my attention is on you."
He wasn't struggling. Not once had he pulled against his wrists, or twisted in his seat. No, Thomas had his eyes closed now, face tilting upwards, lips parted.
"May I touch you?" I asked softly.
He swallowed again, and nodded.