Authors: Jessica Jarman
Tags: #BDSM, #D/s, #collar, #erotic romance, #London, #Bound, #Jessica Jarman, #bondage, #British, #OWYM, #Older Woman/Younger Man
London Bound
London Bound
A
Bound
Book
––––––––
Jessica Jarman
London Bound
Copyright © 2015, Jessica Jarman
Edited by Chris Allen-Riley and Paige Prince
Cover Art by Kris Norris
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P
ublished by Jessica Jarman
Released March, 2015
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the author, Jessica Jarman.
Enjoy an excerpt from the next Bound book
For Chris and Kris. For the support, the ass kicking, and the much needed reminders to trust the story. I couldn’t have done this without you.
For Paige. Yours is coming. Eventually.
For Jenny, a true friend and someone I’m
proud
to have in my life.
And for Brian. Always.
“Y
ou’ve got to be shitting me.”
Meg Stevens leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the door, resisting the urge to kick the solid wood and wondering why she was even here. Not back home, curled up in bed, with a glass of wine and a good book.
She straightened and looked at the line of buzzers at her left. With a sigh, pressed “#1” and waited, knowing it wasn’t actually an intercom system. It simply alerted the resident there was someone at the front door. After a while, she tried “#2”. This went on until her finger hovered over “#4”. She really, really didn’t want to hit that button, but the cold was seeping through her thin clothes and into her body with a vengeance. With a muttered curse, she jabbed the button. Both wishing she’d see him come around the corner from the stairwell and hoping he wouldn’t.
Just when she was about to give up and resign herself to waiting for someone to get home—and probably freeze her ass off while she did so—he came into view. And she promptly lost her breath.
Who the hell came to answer the door in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs?
Unable to stop, Meg took in the sight of him as he walked slowly to the door, fingers shoved in his messy blond hair. Her gaze ran over his chest—lightly dusted with golden curls that looked like they’d be soft, or maybe they’d be coarser and scratch ever so slightly as she ran her palms down... What the hell was she doing?
Meg’s head snapped up, just as he unlocked and pulled open the door. His blue eyes, heavy lidded and hazy with sleep, blinked at her.
“Yeah?” The word was slightly muffled as he dragged his hand over his mouth. The soft sound of his short, neatly trimmed beard scratching against his skin sent her insides fluttering as she imagined the sensation on other, more sensitive parts of
her
body. Oh, God...
“I forgot my key,” she blurted. “I took the garbage out and didn’t realize until the door shut behind me.”
His brow furrowed then smoothed when understanding filled his face. “Oh, right, you’re the lady renting the flat upstairs?”
She nodded, muscles shivering violently. From the cold, obviously. It was not from his accent rolling over her in that deep and sleep-rough voice.
“Sorry for bothering you so early in the morning.” Stepping forward, she placed her hand on the door, hoping he’d take the hint and move so she could come inside.
Shaking his head as if to clear it, he backed up then turned. Without another word, he walked away.
What an ass.
Meg shut the door, making sure it latched before starting up the stairs. And she wasn’t talking about the one hugged by blue cotton. The man himself was a rude son of a bitch. She’d run into him a couple of times before, and her opinion of him hadn’t changed. The first time had been on the day she’d arrived. She’d been struggling to get her heavy suitcase up the narrow flights of stairs. It was just her luck she was in number five, the apartment on the very top floor, and there was no elevator. She hadn’t even made it halfway up when someone—
that
man—had squeezed past her without so much as an “excuse me” and certainly no offer to help. He’d disappeared into the apartment one flight below hers.
She didn’t even know his name, because the other times she’d seen him in passing, he’d barely acknowledged her, let alone introduced himself. It was just as well, Meg reminded herself. This trip wasn’t about meeting people and definitely not about getting to know handsome men who clearly didn’t give a shit about anyone but themselves. No, she was here to prove to her kids that she was okay. She was fine on her own, and they didn’t have to worry about her. That was the point, and she needed to remember that.
Letting herself into the tiny studio apartment she’d be calling home for the next five weeks, Meg sighed heavily then crossed to the sofa and sat. It wasn’t much—one room with a bed and couch, a miniscule kitchen off to the side, and a bathroom she had to squeeze into—but it was enough. It was just her, after all. Hell, it probably made more sense for her to be in a place like this than the large house back home. She certainly didn’t hang onto it for the space. No, it was for the kids, and because it’s been her and Scott’s house—their family’s home.
The ping from her laptop, signaling an incoming video chat, pulled her from her musing. A blessing, she thought. Dwelling on that shit didn’t do anyone any good. She leaned over and clicked the accept button, and couldn’t hold back the smile when her seventeen-year-old daughter’s face filled the screen.
“Hey, Mom!” Emily said cheerfully, waving.
“Hey, honey.” Meg glanced at the clock and frowned. “What are you doing up so late?”
“What are you doing up so early?” Emily shot back then laughed. “It’s only just after midnight, and it’s the weekend.”
“Just after midnight, my ass. It’s five to one. Weekend or not, you need sleep. Do you have to work tomorrow?”
“Nope. And I’ll sleep. Besides,” she batted her big brown eyes, “I stayed up just so I could talk to you.”
Meg snorted. “Sure, you did. What show are you marathoning on Netflix this time?”
She heard her son snort off screen. “Told ya she wouldn’t fall for it, Em.”
“Shut up, Aaron.” Emily scowled. “We may be watching
Doctor Who
, but I
did
want to stay up and talk to you. How’s your trip?”
Meg forced a smile this time. “It’s lovely. I miss you, though. Both of you.”
“Miss you, too.” The teen blew a kiss. “So, what are your plans for today? Going to see anything good?”
“I haven’t made any specific plans for today. I’m going to play it by ear.”
Emily frowned then shifted to the side as Aaron flopped beside her, green eyes narrowed.
“What have you done so far?” he demanded.
“What?”
“You’ve been there for a week already; where have you gone? What have you done?”
Cursing that he was always too damned smart for his own good, Meg shrugged. “I’ve explored the village around the apartment, walked in the woods nearby—it’s beautiful—did some shopping.”
“Mom.” He sighed. “You’re in England.
London
. You should be out there doing things, not holed up in that tiny place.”
“I—”
“He’s right,” Emily said quickly. “You’ve always wanted to go; that’s why we gave you the trip for your birthday. Don’t spend the whole time locked up.”
“Just because I haven’t done all the sight-seeing and tourist-y things doesn’t mean I’m locked up,” Meg protested. “I had to adjust to the time difference and settle in. I’m going to do all that stuff, had planned on it even without your nagging. You sent me away for
six weeks
, for crying out loud. I have plenty of time.”
Aaron’s lips twitched at her teasing tone. “I hope so. We want you to have a good time, Mom. That was the point.”
“I will,” she assured them. “Really. In fact, I was thinking that, tomorrow, I’d go to the Tower of London.”
“Pictures or it didn’t happen,” Emily said quickly.
“Fine.” Meg laughed.
“And today?” Aaron asked.
God, he was relentless. So like his dad.
“I don’t know,” she said. “But I’ll go out, do something fun, have dinner and a pint at the pub.”
“Find a cute guy, flirt a little bit,” Emily suggested, wiggling her eyebrows, and her brother rolled her eyes.
“Not against that,” he said. “But please don’t share pictures if it happens.”
Not going to happen, but Meg wasn’t going to get into that conversation with her kids, certainly not with thousands of miles separating them.
“All right, go on back to the Doctor, but don’t stay up all damned night,” she said sternly.
After a flurry of begrudging agreements, blown kisses and goodbyes, Meg disconnected and sat back wearily. All she wanted to do was crawl back into bed, to be honest, but she’d go just as she promised. If playing tourist and sending hundreds of photos to her kids was what it took for them to realize they could live their own lives and not worry about her, she’d damned well do it. And pretend to love it.
* * * * *
N
athan Harris strode through the crowded pub to stand at the bar, nodding to Georgia who was helping someone farther down. He drummed his fingers on the worn, polished wood as he waited, glancing around the room, searching for a familiar face to share a pint with. When his gaze landed on the booth in the back corner, he froze. The lady from upstairs. And she had company. A stocky man stood close to her, crowding into her space as he spoke. Unwelcome company, Nathan thought as she leaned to the side and practically flinched away when the man ran a finger along her auburn hair.
“Didn’t know you were back.” Georgia stopped in front of him, drawing his attention.
“A week ago,” he said with a shrug before returning his gaze to his temporary neighbor.
How the fuck did that guy not have a clue she didn’t want his attention? Nathan didn’t even know her, and he could tell from across the room. Her posture, the slight frown that furrowed her brow, her refusal to meet the man’s eyes. Obvious.
“Your usual?”
“And a glass of whatever she’s having.” He nodded, indicating the empty wine glass that rested in front of the woman he watched.
“Oooh, going after the American tourists now, Nate?” Georgia teased as she got the drinks. “Better hurry; you’ve got competition.”
Nathan snorted and took the offered glasses before striding confidently toward the rear of the pub. Shouldering the other man aside, he set the drinks on the table then slid in beside the surprised woman. He ignored her gasp and leaned in to buss her cheek.
“So sorry it took me so long, love; it’s mad in here tonight,” he said loudly and wrapped an arm around her slight shoulders.
“What’s going on?” the dumbass asked. “Who’s this?”
“I think I should be asking that.” Nathan cocked his head to the side and met the other man’s gaze full on. “You’re the idiot chatting up my girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?” the man gaped. “She didn’t say she had a boyfriend.”
“She does,” Nathan said simply. “Go away.”
“Now, hold on!”
“Don’t make me repeat myself. Fuck off.” He turned away and faced the woman beside him, who stared at him with wide chocolate brown eyes. Tightening his arm around her, he pulled her close and dropped a kiss on her temple.
“What are you doing?” she said softly after her unwanted visitor walked away, grumbling.
“He was bothering you,” Nathan said.
“I could have handled it,” she protested. “I didn’t need—”
“No doubt you could have.” He lifted his pint and took a long drink.
Head tilted back, she studied him with narrowed eyes. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Nathan.”
She pressed her lips together, as if she were trying not to smile. “Well...thank you, Nathan. I could have dealt with him, but you managed it far more quickly.”
“And your name?”
“Meg.” She shifted slightly. “He’s gone now; you don’t have to pretend anymore.”
He dragged his thumb along her the soft skin of her neck, enjoying the way her body shivered as a result. “Enjoying a pint with a beautiful woman; who’s pretending?”
She let out a shaky breath and reached for her wine. Her fingers trembled as she brought it to her mouth. After a quick swallow, she set the glass down with a clank. Nathan bit back a groan when her tongue slid along her full lower lip.
