Bound to You (3 page)

She bit her lower lip and shifted in her seat. As she ran her right hand through her thick hair, the scent of her sweet perfume reached me and jumped straight to my cock. My imagination went wild, picturing her straddling my lap. Just the thought of grabbing a fistful of her locks to force her to arch her long back made my throat go dry. She would be beautiful, completely uninhibited as she rode my lap.

The ambience around us faded until there was nothing left but me and her.

“I'm gonna be honest here,” I said slowly. “The minute I saw you step on the plane, I wanted someone else. I'm not here for fun. But then you stepped up your game, and now I'm glad you're on my team. I'd like to see what other things you're good at, too.”

“That's it?” Her voice was breathy as she issued her challenge.

I chuckled. There was a lot more. “Every time you run your hands through your hair, I've wanted to grab it, bend you over your seat, and fuck you senseless.”

There. I said it.

With her left hand's ring finger she ran the fingertip along a line of exposed black leather peeking out from her blouse, circling her right wrist. When she caught me looking, she quickly pulled the sleeve over it. I clenched my fist to keep myself from snaking my hand out to catch her wrist.

“That's not for you,” she said, her eyes following where my gaze lay.

“What is it?”

She gave me a small smile. “Let's straighten things out between me and you, Mr. Quinn. I'm probably not like the last woman you dated. Not even close. I prefer not to reveal my private life to others. Especially the kinky things I do in my own bed. I'm sorry, but I won't be doing that kind of thing in yours.”

A pleasurable shudder flowed through me and my fist tightened. I'd only caught a brief glimpse of what she wore on her wrist, but I could almost imagine running my thumb along the smooth material, then stroking the skin along the edge. As much as I was getting turned on, I had to be careful though. Maybe she belonged to another Dominant.

Our gazes locked. Her confident smile faded. Her lips parted and her gaze grew heated.

I waited for her to say something. To tell me to fuck off. But she said nothing, only watching me as her breasts rose and fell with her rapid breaths.

Finally, she looked away. She had to know she'd issued a challenge and I rarely backed down from one once it was set before me.

She pushed what was left of her halibut around her plate. Neither of us seemed interested in our food anymore.

Someone moved to my right. Nakamura and his friends had completed their meal and gotten up to leave. There was nothing holding us here. Another opportunity might come soon. I was just as tenacious as Miss Ashton.

My tongue was thick in my mouth when I finally spoke. “It looks like Nakamura is done for the night, so we should go. I'd like to give you a ride home, Miss Ashton.” Among other things.

Her fingertips slipped down her wineglass and then back up. The subtle motion kicked me below the belt.

She slid out of her seat, her gaze never leaving mine. “I'd like that ride, Mr. Quinn.”

Carlie, who just made me a job offer last week to relocate to London, would probably tell me I was making a mistake. That a man like Xavier Quinn should be ridden into the sunset. Even I had to admit I was tempted. Keyword
tempted
.

Neither of us spoke as we left the restaurant, but once we reached the sidewalk I had to say something.

“Do you need my address?” I asked.

He didn't answer until the Bentley pulled up and his driver, Chris, opened the door.

“Get inside” was all he said.

A quiver raced down my spine. There was a push behind his words that time. I quickly got in. It had been two years since someone had moved me like that, but now wasn't the time to think about my ex-boyfriend Sato. He was long gone overseas.

All sorts of clients had tried to get into my pants before. They used all kinds of pickup lines or assumed that as the hired help I was also the hired whore.

But tonight was different.

There was something about the way he took charge when he spoke. I had outright told him I wasn't interested. We had just met and he was a client. Yet on the inside I yearned for him to touch me like he did on the airplane. To grab my hips with his large hands like he gripped my wrist. To see his light blue eyes grow intense every time he stared at me.

And he was a virtual stranger, no less.

I slipped into the Bentley. Chris asked for my address and I quickly supplied the information for East Boston. All the while, I remained on my side of the car, trying not to think about him. The dinner's events were all too fresh in my mind. As we sat there not speaking, tension stretched from limb to limb, making it harder for me to ignore the obvious: I couldn't work for him like this. Working day to day with a man who had told me he wanted to fuck me senseless. Every time I'd see him I'd know. I'd remember his words and that particular conversation would make it damn near impossible for me to do my job.

And the thought of getting the sexual tension out of the way was difficult to resist. We could go back to his studio apartment, we'd do what needed to be done, and then tomorrow I'd be fine. An itch scratched. A hunger sated. No promises for something more.

By the time we pulled up to my brick apartment building in Orient Heights, I'd managed to find some of the control I'd lost. Less than a foot separated us, but he didn't move, thank goodness.

Silence folded over us and all I could do was face forward. The still air in the car grew heavy. The weight of his gaze intensified.

“I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning, Miss Ashton. Sleep well.”

“Bright and early.”

As I walked up to the building, my confidence strengthened. He was nothing more than an attractive client. Losing everything I'd gained was unacceptable.

As expected, the living room lights cast a bright glow through the large bay window in my second-story apartment. By the time I walked through the door, I wasn't surprised to see Lana, one of my two roommates, with her papers and books scattered all over what little space we had.

I stepped over a book titled
Atlas of Human Anatomy
and leaped over a bunch of drawings of body parts most folks didn't want to see. Was that a left arm? Or maybe a dissected upper thigh? Yep, ignorance was bliss.

“You're back early,” Lana remarked. The short redhead never looked up. As usual, she was wearing an alternative rock band T-shirt. This time it was Modest Mouse. Ever since her first-year second semester started at UMass, I only saw the back of her head most of the time. My other roommate, Penny, was home far more than I preferred due to her work-from-home gig. Like Carlie, I grew up with Penny, sharing rooms with them in the foster care system in NYC. Compared to Carlie, who never picked up her belongings unless they were on fire, Penny was a much tidier roommate.

“I had an uneventful night.” Now that was an understatement. Just thinking about Xavier made my brain tumble. My cellphone buzzed in my pocket as I left the living room and walked toward the bedrooms. The three-bedroom apartment wasn't that big, but with one medical student and an at-home phone-sex operator paying part of the bills, the place was much more affordable.

Since I'd lived here first, I offered to give Lana the biggest bedroom so she could have a study nook, but she declined.

“You won't see me here half the time,” Lana had said when we'd first made the agreement. “If I get comfortable, I'm sleeping,” she had added. “My scholarship only goes so far in helping me
not
get screwed over by the crazy-high tuition costs. I should be at the library, in class, or sleeping in that bed.”

In a way, I was rather glad. The amount of clothes and stuff I had was astronomical. I might've been only a concierge, but for my kind of business, I had to be flexible in terms of my attire.

I thought Lana was engrossed in her homework, but she eagerly followed me into the narrow galley kitchen. “You're never home this early,” Lana said as she grabbed a Coke after I got my bottle of water. “I've been wondering if something is up.”

“So I gather,” I said dryly.

“All you do is work and come home late.” She took a long sip of her drink. “When it comes to dating, Penny and I never hear you talk about anyone.” She said this as if she wished she had a date.

“Do you seriously want me bringing a guy here when you're studying?” She flashed me a look as if I'd fallen down the steps on the way up to the apartment.

“I've never had a drought like this since high school,” she said. “Even the guys in the second-year class look tired and broke down. I wish our professors weren't so good-looking.”

She hopped on the kitchen counter and propped her feet up on the other side, effectively barring my escape. “Sophie, there's a professor in the internal medicine department that has ‘fuck me please' written across his forehead,” she said in a rapid burst. “We need to get you two together somehow.”

Anytime the wind blew, Lana had a new crush. The poor woman had made a vow of celibacy for her first year, focusing on her studies foremost, and now she was trying to hook me up with every dude she came across.

“The guy has an amazing body!” The look of lust was all over her face. “I accidentally bumped into him on the way to the gross lab and his abs…” She shuddered with delight. “I could tongue-surf my way down to his lollipop garden.”

I almost choked on my water.

“I wanna tongue-surf somebody someday,” she added with a sigh.

As much as I appreciated Lana's efforts, none of the guys who tried to hit on me really did anything for me. Just because a man was attractive didn't mean he had everything I needed. And don't get me started on the guys who pretended they had a dominant side to them.

They'd say, “You like it rough, don'tcha, babe…”
No, not really.

Men who have a dominant nature are born that way. They exude it, and so far, the men who had lined up to play on my playground couldn't swing that way even if they tried.

After listening to Lana describe every enticing feature Dr. Hanley had, I ambled into my room, toed off my heels, and discarded my purse in the corner.

She briefly poked her head into the room. “You got another package from overseas. I left it on your bed. Penny tried to open it, but I managed to hide it before she used a box cutter. Looks like something expensive.”

My chest tightened. I didn't dare look at the pretty white box. Or my name written in neat cursive on the label. For the last two years, a new package had arrived every couple of months from the same address in Japan. I used to throw them away, not caring if they contained apologies, expensive presents, or pleas. Right now I didn't feel like dealing with the ghosts of past boyfriends, so I placed the package in a neat spot in my closet.

My phone buzzed again with a message, but I ignored it. Keeping my professional life out of my personal one was impossible at times.

You know you're going to check it in about two minutes…
Yeah, I was gonna check it, but I preferred to think that I was capable of waiting a bit and not responding immediately.

What if it's him?

Him, as in Xavier Quinn, who should either be sleeping right now to prepare for tomorrow or doing work for his company.

I glanced at my purse where I'd left my phone.
Not gonna check it.
It was probably that guy who wanted box seats. He probably wanted a chance to meet the owner, too. My thoughts immediately drifted to dinner as I unzipped the back of my skirt and let the garment fall to the floor. I stepped out and headed to my bed. My gaze swept over it.

If you really wanted he could've been in this bed tonight,
I thought.
You could've been making loud noises and giving your roommates a real anatomy education.
A sex education. I did have a queen-sized bed. It was nothing compared to the monstrous king-sized bed in Xavier's room. My iron bedpost was just as sturdy as his, but not as expensive and intricate. Was he in bed right now? I shook my head and sat on the mattress, which was warm and comforting. Almost beckoning me to do what I always did when I was alone and longed for company. Release could be found overnight, curled up on my side with my hands stretched out in front of me bound at the wrists. Memories from the exquisite tight sensation stretched up my arms and settled into my stomach. I hummed with delight. All I had to do was open my locked bedside drawer. My wrists itched and I rubbed the skin under my leather cuffs.

My phone buzzed again. I still hadn't checked the pending message.

Check the phone, you fool.
It was probably not him anyway.
Remember you're running a business,
I reminded myself.

I retrieved my phone. I'd make this quick.

I had one single message. The number and the name was new, but familiar now.

I backed up to the bed and sat.

The message read:

are you up?

My fingers hovered over the keypad. He had no business messaging me right now. I took a deep breath. This was easy to handle.

It's only nine, Mr. Quinn.

I moved to put the phone down, but the response was lightning fast. What was he doing?

so what's on the agenda for tomorrow?

I'll send you an email early in the morning with our plans.

The reply appeared:

nothing else tonight?

My breath skittered and my thigh muscles clenched. No, nothing else tonight. Even as tempted as I might be. I quickly typed:

There's nothing to discuss yet.

My brain lost focus for a moment. This part should be easy. Just tell him to watch a pay-per-view fight or a flick on Netflix and call it a day.

We

And then I had nothing.

We…
We what?

My finger hovered over the G key. There were so many things I could say. That we were going to whatever event the PI determined would be best. That we should have a breakfast meeting—in public—to go over a plan of attack.

The phone rang. He was trying to call me. By the third ring I finally gave in and picked up.

“Is everything all right, Miss Ashton?” He had amusement in his voice. The casual timbre of someone who was relaxed. My imagination ran amok, feeding me an image of him sitting in his tiny bachelor apartment, propped up in a chair with his shirt slightly open….

“Miss Ashton?”

“Everything's fine. It's been a long day with clients and I haven't had any downtime at all.”

“You did mention during dinner that you'd only had a protein bar. Should I be concerned you won't be up for the rigorous work I had in mind?”

I didn't miss the double entendre in his words and I tried to let them skim off my back. “I'll keep up just fine. I'd say you should be the one ready for what comes up. We might be changing plans on the fly, so I'd be prepared for everything from golf matches to the opera. Pretty much anything.”

Now that I was talking business the tension in my stomach melted a bit. This was the Sophie I depended on. The confident person.

“Sounds good.” He grew quiet. Any moment now I expected him to hang up. In the silence I waited to hear the sounds of a television, the hum of something else.

“Is there anything else you need, Mr. Quinn?” I held my breath. Would he say what he had been thinking during dinner? That he wanted to fuck me? That our evening wasn't over yet?

I detected his smile. Or maybe I thought he was smiling. The brief clink of someone drinking from a shot glass. “As of right now, there are many things I
need,
but tomorrow is a new day. Good night, Miss Ashton.” The
click
and then I was left sitting there like a fool.

I connected my phone to the charger and got to work at my desk. There were things to tackle and little time to do them. But as the night stretched along, my gaze kept flicking to the drawer next to my bed. The hunger that had filled me all evening had left my stomach gathered in uncomfortable knots.

Reluctantly casting my work aside, I went to the drawer and unlocked it. Scattered among my ropes, gathered in neat bundles, I spied a single handwritten note.

A note I should've thrown away a long time ago, but I clung to Sato's goodbye letter, or maybe I should say it still clung to me.