She moves quickly, seizing the opportunity of her distraction as she pins him down to the bed, one hand reaching for his wrist to pull it up and up over his head.

Her fingertips trace the veins on the inside of his arm, blue under the skin (red outside) before her hold tightens a fraction of an inch and she keeps it there, like a makeshift handcuff.

"Some tried their luck before," she admits, leaning down to swipe her tongue over his upper lip.

"It didn't work out."