Free On the Ropes by Holley Trent

against the crook of her neck, but if he did, he wouldn’t want to stop there. He’d want to reach around, pop free those four buttons, and relieve her breasts of their cover.
    He’d have her wrists bound behind her back so her chest jutted out for his inspection. And he’d look, study her, until she begged him to touch her. He could make her beg.
    Squashing a groan, he let the collar snap back in place and took a step back.
    She turned and rolled her shoulders. “Thank you.”
    “Better?”
    “Much. Where’d you learn to do that?”
    “My old boxing coach. He knew all my knotty spots. I learned a thing or two from him.”
    She snapped her fingers. “Speaking of that, did you get your nose broken?”
    He chuckled and walked through the bathroom to unlock Toby’s door. “Well, that’s random.”
    “No, you reminded me of it because you brought up boxing. When I tossed that blanket over you last night, I was close enough to notice the jut in your nose.”
    That meant she’d been pretty damn close. His own mother said she hardly noticed it anymore. He’d healed well, fortunately.
    “Yes, I did have my nose broken. Twice, actually.” He returned to the room and unzipped the larger of his suitcases. He didn’t know what their plans for the day were, but he suspected they wouldn’t involve pressed slacks.
    “Did you quit after the second time?”
    “No. I just learned to dodge punches better.” He wriggled his eyebrows at her, and she rolled her eyes. He didn’t miss that little grin, though.
    “Listen. I apologize for invading your space last night. I just…” She let her words trail off. He quietly pawed through his suitcase waiting for her to pick them back up, but, she didn’t.
    Maybe he should get used to that.
    He grabbed a pair of shorts and a shirt. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s a big house. I know what it’s like. Sometimes you need to be around people, and sometimes you want to be away from them. You can do either here.” After grabbing some underwear from the mesh flap, he stood.
    She wrung her hands and seemed to be looking past him instead of at him. Back when he’d been interning—in family law—he’d learned that was a tell for people who couldn’t order their thoughts or who didn’t know how much they should say.
    He wanted her to tell him everything , but also knew he hadn’t earned that.
    He was stooping to grab his toiletry bag’s strap when she said, “So, you don’t mind if I stay with you?”
    “Sweetheart, if I didn’t want you to stay with me, I wouldn’t have invited you. Think about that.”
    She gave a slow, acknowledging nod, and he retreated to the bathroom. Before closing the door, he said, “We should probably move downstairs, though. You don’t really want to share a bathroom with Toby. I may not be perfect in a lot of ways, but at least I have good aim.”
    On a delay, she groaned and moved away from the door.
    * * * *
    After Stephen had showered and dressed, he found Janette waiting on the bed with her toothbrush, toothpaste, and a tube of face cleanser in hand. She’d put on an orange sundress that played up the russet tones of her skin and had combed the wildest of her short curls down. He was actually starting to prefer them a bit wild. They made her seem more… human . Not all zipped up and impersonal.
    She’d probably never really let loose unless he helped her.
    He had some ideas on how to do it.
    “Orange suits you phenomenally well, Jan,” he said, and tossed his dirty clothes into his open suitcase.
    She stood and walked into the bathroom. “My mother used to tell me that. I guess it must have stood out in my mind, because when I’m not at work, I’m almost always wearing a bit of orange.” She didn’t close the door all the way—enough to dampen the sound of bristles against teeth, but not enough to dampen conversation.
    Progress.
    “Meg will probably hate you for it. She claims she can’t wear orange because of the red