Bound to You: Volume 2 (10 page)

I don’t remember driving back to the office or taking the time to hang my coat and tie, but somehow I’ve managed to undress myself and pour a glass of scotch. When the woman at
Demure
mentioned red hair, I knew it couldn’t be anyone but Rebecca, but I had to see for myself. I rescheduled with Emily and promised to take her out to lunch another time. In a way, I’m glad she didn’t come because it would’ve been a very awkward way to meet my assistant for the first time. Although Emily has been to the office a couple of times, she hasn’t had the chance to meet Rebecca.

I toss the glass back as thoughts of her flood my mind. I shiver at the memory of Rebecca’s bare skin and the soft curves of her body hidden only by small pieces of lace. Watching her in the fitting room left me floored.
How am I supposed to forget that?
Her hips will forever be engrained into my mind.

I feel like a fucking animal. I’ll fuck her until she begs me to stop and then I’ll fuck that smart little mouth of hers. I want to be the reason for the blush against her freckled skin.
I’ve never been so aroused by the mere sight of
freckles
. They taunt me, as if daring me to kiss each one. I ache to know the feeling of her pussy clenching around me. It’s an all-consuming need. And I know I won’t get my release until I’ve buried myself between those gorgeous legs. Maybe then I can get her out of my mind. Maybe then I can let her go.

I’m not exactly sure what the hell Rebecca was doing with my account. She ran out of
Demure
so fast I didn’t even have a chance to stop her. When I spoke with the woman who called about my account, she didn’t know the name of the female shopper who was using my account. The only thing she did know was that she was a redhead. That’s all I needed to hear to pique my curiosity. I’ve never actually dated or fucked a redhead and there’s only one redhead I know – Rebecca.

Her friend Carol wasn’t very informative when I asked her about the incident, and Lola kept apologizing profusely. She even refused to charge my account when I offered to buy the lingerie Rebecca was wearing. She said it was complimentary.
Demure
doesn’t give out complimentary items. They don’t need to. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to know about Rebecca’s little shopping spree. Testing boundaries seems to be the name of the game with her.

The bag from
Demure
is still sitting on top of my bed. I pour another glass of whiskey, hoping to drown my thoughts of her, but I know it’s useless. The whiskey only seems to intensify my need to see her. I smile, picturing her spreading her lips apart for me. My cock grows harder at the thought of her running her lips along me.

I think it’s time to teach her a lesson. Perhaps, the lingerie won’t be such a waste. Rebecca wanted it, right?

This is going to be one hell of a long weekend.

The crisp morning and the sound of coffee brewing down the hall wake me from my sleep. I’m drawn from my bed by the smell of hazelnut. As much as I want to stay curled up between the sheets with a good book, I can’t.
Wait, yes, I can. It’s Saturday.
Relief washes over me as I realize that yesterday was the beginning to my weekend. I won’t have to deal with Nicholas until Monday.

The sound of a text message beeping on my phone cuts through my thoughts as I head toward the living room. I search for it in my purse and finally find it hidden beneath my wallet. There’s a text message, but it’s from an unknown number.

580-3000:
We need to talk.

I squint, confused at the message. The timestamp reads 1:00 a.m. Who the hell was texting me so late at night?

Me:
Who the hell is this?

The response is almost instantaneous.

580-3000:
Your boss.

Shit. He can’t fire me through text, right?
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he has my number, considering my staff file is basically at his disposal, but I am a little surprised that he would text me at one in the morning. I close my phone and toss it back on top of my purse. I’m not dealing with him right now. I want to enjoy the only peace and quiet I have before I have to deal with this disaster waiting to happen.

My purse begins to vibrate. This time someone’s calling me. I look over and see his number flashing at the top of the screen. I’m tempted to pick up the phone, but I’m not exactly sure what I can say to make the situation better, and I’m too afraid to know what he wants to tell me.

I spot a note from Carol clipped to the fridge. She must’ve left it here when she left this morning.

Becca,

I’m sorry about yesterday. I hope today isn’t too rough –unless you want it to be. Haha. By the way, the rest of your clothes are back from the dry cleaners. Let’s go somewhere fun this weekend. I’ll be back around 2:00 pm.

Xoxo,

Carol

I search Carol’s closet, and lo and behold, my clothes are there. I grab my pencil skirt and white blouse out from the plastic wrapping. After putting away all my work clothes, I decide it’s time to venture out and do some more exploring. It doesn’t take me long to find the closest bookstore. It’s called Books N’ Nooks. I’m not sure if it’s a play on words because of the e-reader, or if it really offers a place for seclusion, but I venture inside anyway.

An hour later, I feel my cellphone vibrate against my palm. I stare down at the text message on my phone.

580-3000:
Are you really ignoring me?

He definitely must be mad at me for the
Demure
incident if he’s still trying to get ahold of me. It’s so hard to read emotion through text.

580-3000:
;)

Wait, did he seriously just use a winky face?
This is weird.

580-3000:
Gellar, you can’t ignore me forever.

Maybe I can.
I sigh at the reality that there’s no way in hell Monday is going to be a normal day.

580-3000:
Gellar…

580-3000:
Meet me at the coffee shop across from the bookstore in two minutes.

Wait.
What the fuck?
How does he know I’m at a bookstore?

After debating over several hours of whether I should show up at Rebecca’s apartment or not, I decide that if I did, it would probably be pushing it. I’ve called her at least three times today and I know she hasn’t changed her number or Striker would’ve told me. Even my text messages have gone ignored. I feel this unrelenting need to talk to her. I don’t even really know what I want to say, but I need to see her.

I text her again and tell her to meet me at the coffee shop across from Books N’ Nooks. I know she’s inside the store. I was on my way to meet Tristan for lunch when Striker called to let me know he spotted her at a store.

As I take a seat beside an open window, a voice breaks my thoughts. “Can I get you something to drink?” It’s the waitress for my table. I look up at her for a moment studying her face. She looks about Emily’s age, but by the way she’s thrusting her tits in my face, I know she’s not as innocent.

“No, thank you. I’m waiting for someone,” I say, waving her away. She pouts and then leaves me to wait. I look down at my phone hoping there’s a text from Rebecca, but there’s nothing. Where the hell is she? I peer through the window and search the crowded street for her. It shouldn’t be that hard to spot that fiery hair.

I’m just about to get up and walk over to the bookstore when I spot her. She’s moving fast down the street in the opposite direction she’s supposed to be going. Damn it, Gellar. My cock stirs. It seems she won’t be so hard to catch.

My phone pings. It’s a text from Striker.

Striker
:
Looks like she got away.

I can practically hear him laughing at me through the phone.
No fucking kidding.
Note to self: decrease Striker’s salary when I inherit StoneHaven Publishing.

After finding myself sitting alone in the coffee shop, I decided to meet Tristan for a late dinner. I needed to go to the gym to let off some steam, or rather so I wouldn’t go ape shit over Rebecca blowing me off.
God, I wish she would blow me.

“Nick, if you’re going to continue with this grumpy attitude, I’m not going to invite you to the opening of my exhibit.” I glance across the table at Tristan Knight and take another sip of my red wine. Somehow even the company of my best friend is not helping my mood.
She fucking ran away from me. What the hell?
I mutter her name beneath my breath, hoping that it will help ease my irritation. I just want to listen to the sound of it rolling off my lips.
Fuck.

“You’re starting to look like an old man with that grim face.”

“What?” My eyes snap up to Tristan’s face. I know he’s fucking with me because his grin just widens.

“You vain bastard,” he says, laughing. “Why are you all worked up?”

I guess it wouldn’t be a bad thing if I told Tristan about Rebecca. Maybe talking about it might make me feel better. Probably not, but it can’t make it worse.

“My assistant, Rebecca Gellar….”

“I remember her. She’s a pretty one.”

“I think she’s the devil in disguise,” I admit.

“It must be the hair.”

Tristan pours himself another glass of wine. The room around us is quiet, with the exception of the restaurant staff clearing tables. It’s after hours at Mario’s Italian Restaurant, but the owner is familiar with my family and he doesn’t ever mind when we stay past closing.

“I’m guessing you’re starting to like Rebecca.”