WMIS 06 Tied With Me (5 page)

“So you’ll just stalk her during her private time?” Brynna asks with an innocent smile.

“Doesn’t Caleb ever spank you?” I ask.

“Yeah”—she sighs and grins over at her husband—“he does.”

“You’ve had your hands on my wife long enough,” Caleb informs me as he cuts in.

“Possessive much?” I ask as I back away.
 

“Like you’d be any different.”

I smirk, but he’s right. If I found a woman I wanted to spend my life with, I’d be damn possessive.

“Thanks for the dance, sweetheart.”

“Good luck.” She winks at me just before Caleb twirls her away and into his arms.

***

I’m restless.

The reception wrapped up awhile ago. Caleb and Brynna are off to their weekend away on the coast, and everyone has gone home. I’m sitting in my Belltown apartment, watching the lights of my city.

And I can’t seem to get a certain dark-haired pixie out of my head.

I’m not sure what it is about her, exactly, that has me so interested. I’ve fucked my share of beautiful women. Tied them up, had my way with them, and moved on with my life.

Her insisting that she’s not my type should be a flashing neon warning sign that I should just stay away.

No means no, after all.

But she’s wrong. She may not be submissive all the time, but she is beautifully submissive in the bedroom.

And damn if I don’t want to show her how life-changing it can be.

Fuck it.

I yank my phone out of my pocket and dial her number. She answers on the third ring, sounding out of breath, and my cock immediately stirs to life.

All she did was
breathe
, for Christ sake.

“Hello?”

“Hello, little one,” I murmur and smile when I hear her gasp.

“How did you get my number?”

“You made a cake for my brother, Nic,” I lie, not wanting to admit that I’ve had her number for well over a week now but was too consumed with my family to call her. “It wasn’t hard.”

“You are tenacious, I’ll give you that.”

“Look,” I begin and shove a hand through my hair, “I think we got off on the wrong foot today. I’d like to talk with you.”

“I like you, Matt.” She sighs before she continues. “And, honestly, I’m flattered. You seem like a really good guy. But I wasn’t kidding when I said that I’m not your type.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” I counter softly. “Let me show you.”

She’s quiet for a long minute, and I wonder if I’ve lost her before she clears her throat.
 

“I’d like to be friends,” she whispers. “But I think that’s all I can give you.”

That’s a start.

“Okay, for now.”

“You’re hot, but you’re not irresistible, you know.”

“You think I’m hot?” I grin and lean my shoulder against the cold glass of the window, watching cars drive by below.
 

“I have to go, egomaniac.”

“I’d like to see you tomorrow.”

“I just told you…”

“As friends. Friends drink coffee, right? Do you serve coffee at your bakery?”

She chuckles in my ear, and the tension in my stomach loosens as I hear her softening.
 

“Yes, I serve coffee.”

“Great, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Matt.”

“Good night, little one.” I hang up, change into my gym clothes and head for the door. I’m too restless to be home. I need to burn off some steam, and going to the club tonight holds no interest for me.

Which in and of itself should be another big red flag.

The ten-block jog to the gym is invigorating. Summer has settled nicely over Seattle, making the days warm and the nights just perfect.
 

I start on the weights, working my core and arms today. Just when I’ve finished my second set of bench press, I sit up and pull my T-shirt over my head, wipe the sweat off my brow and chest with it, and throw it on the floor. As I take a long drink of water, my eyes survey the room.

And that’s when I see her. Jesus, we belong to the same gym? She’s on a treadmill across the room, running at a fast clip. Earbuds are tucked in her ears, and her eyes are on the console of the treadmill, probably watching her distance.

She’s wearing nothing but black shorts and a tight black tank top. More of her body is exposed now than it was when I was plunged deep inside her.
 

Her little body is firm, yet curvy in the right places. Her arms are defined, probably from all the manual labor she does while baking.

When she’s finished running and climbs off the treadmill, takes a long drink of water and wipes her face with a towel, I walk toward her.

Shit, I must look like a fucking stalker.

I keep my eyes trained on her as I approach, eager to see what her reaction will be when she sees me.

And I’m not disappointed when her eyes widen and her mouth opens as she lets those gorgeous green eyes roam down my body. My cock tightens at her gaze, and I want to pull her against me and kiss her stupid. But I just stay where I am, watching her.

She quickly recovers and raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, Matt, it’s called stalking now.”

I grin and offer her a fresh bottle of water, which she accepts, unscrews the cap and takes a sip.

Fuck, she has beautiful lips. Lips that look amazing wrapped around the head of my cock.

“It’s not a crime to belong to a gym,” I reply.

“
My
gym?”

“Do you own it?” I ask with a grin.

She laughs and shakes her head. “No.”

“It’s not far from my apartment, and it’s convenient to work, too, so here I am.”

She nods and glances down, not sure what to say next.

“The cake was delicious today,” I comment casually, giving her the opportunity to talk about her work.

“Oh, good!” She grins and joins me as I walk toward the smoothie bar, pull out a chair for her to drop into at one of the tiny two-person tables and sit opposite her. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“You do good work. Leo and Sam are always talking about your cupcakes.”

“Leo and Sam keep me in business, I swear.” She laughs, sending electricity down my spine. “They’re very good customers.”

I nod, watching her.
 

“I like your shorter hair,” I murmur and reach out to brush the ends with my finger, enjoying the softness.

“Most men like long hair,” she replies softly.

“I like long hair, too. You look beautiful in both.”

She frowns and glances away from me.

“Why did you cut your hair, Nic?”

She shrugs and won’t meet my gaze. “It was time for a change.”

“Try again,” I reply.
 

She turns her eyes to mine and squares her shoulders, firms her chin. “It was time for a change.”

That’s a lie.

I cross my arms over my naked chest and drag my finger over my lip, watching her squirm.

She isn’t a good liar.

Good.

“Okay.”
 

She sighs, relieved, before I continue.
 

“For now.”

She scowls at me, making me laugh. “Friends don’t lie to each other, little one. The sooner you remember that, the better.”

“You’ve known me for three minutes, Matt. Don’t assume you know all there is to know about me.”

“You know what they say about assuming,” I murmur with a grin.

“Well, you
are
an ass,” she replies and then giggles.
 

I lean in and rest my mouth next to her ear. “This ass would love to smack
your
pretty little ass until it glows,” I whisper so only she can hear.

She gasps and pulls back so she can look me in the eye, and I see it. The hunger. The lust. The awareness.

“Friends don’t usually threaten to spank each other’s asses,” she murmurs softly.

I lean back in my chair, not answering her, and cross my arms again as she pulls herself together.

“I should head home,” she says finally and stands. “I have to be in the shop early tomorrow.”

“It was good to see you, Nic,” I reply, allowing her to run. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She looks like she wants to say something more, probably to tell me not to bother coming into her shop, but she just shrugs and offers me a half smile before turning and walking away.

Yes, I’ll definitely be seeing you tomorrow.

Chapter Three

~Nicole~

This ass would love to smack
your
pretty little ass until it glows.

Christ on a crutch, who in the bloody hell says something like that?

I turn onto my side and stare at my alarm clock. 4:43. My alarm is going to go off in seventeen minutes, and I haven’t slept a wink. Not even after a three-mile run and a hot, hot shower.

Instead, all I could hear was Matt’s deep voice running through my head. His ice-blue eyes haunted me, the way they shine when he’s happy and darken when he’s turned on.
 

And they darken a lot when he looks at me.

I’d like to lick him.

Except, he would rather tie me up.

And the part that scares me is, I’d like for him to tie me up, too.

Dear God, what is wrong with me?

I sit up and turn off my alarm before trudging into the bathroom to begin getting ready for my day. When I go down to the shop in the mornings to bake the cupcakes for the day, I forgo any makeup in favor of comfort, then run upstairs about thirty minutes before we open to primp and be presentable for the clients. So it only takes a few minutes to pull on clothes, push my hair back with a headband—the one reason that I regret cutting my hair is no more ponytails—and I’m on my way down to the kitchen.

My work space is my pride and joy. I attended countless used commercial kitchen auctions, biding my time until I found the perfect equipment for just the right price. The stainless steel counters gleam under the fluorescent lights. My ovens are almost orgasm-inducing.
 

I love this place.

The front of the house was designed with the same care. I have a long glass display case that can hold roughly fifty dozen cupcakes at any time. I have an industrial espresso machine that would make Starbucks proud.
 

The color scheme is red, white and black. The floor is covered in black and white tile. The tables are little black wrought iron bistro tables for two covered in red tablecloths, and there is a long pub-height table by the front windows where people can stand with their treats and watch the traffic or the many musicians who come and go out of the nondescript recording studio across the street.

I’ve been open for just over a year, and I couldn’t be happier with the success of the shop. Succulent Sweets has made a profit from the first month, which I know is rare.

I work my ass off for it.

I set out my ingredients for the different flavors of cakes and dig in immediately. It’s a Sunday, so I’m open only half the day, from nine to one, but I still have orders to fill for two birthday parties, a baptism and a baby shower.

Thank God cupcakes are all the rage these days.

After the cupcakes that will be sold in the shop are all baked for the day, I let them cool while I bake the special orders. Just as I’m about to begin decorating, Tess, my part-time employee, bounces into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” she sings and smiles widely.

“You are very chipper for this early on a Sunday morning,” I respond with a smile. “And good morning.”

“I went out last night,” she announces as she ties her white apron around her trim waist. Tess is tall and thin, with thick blond, red and
pink
hair. She wears black-rimmed glasses that are almost as big as her face, but she insists they’re very cool.

And, I have to admit, she looks adorable in them.

She pulls her hair back into a ponytail and grabs some frosting out of the fridge, ready to help me finish up today’s baking.

“Who is he?” I ask.

“His name is Sean…” She scrunches up her face. “Sean something.”

“Geez, Tess.”

“Oh stop, I had a bit to drink. He’s tall and built, and he has his nipples pierced.”

“Ouch,” I reply with a laugh.

Tess laughs with me as she frosts the lemon cupcakes with lemon frosting.
 

“How was your night?” she asks.

“Fine. I just went to the gym.”

“Oh.” She sighs and looks at me like I’m an old maid.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“I just wish you’d go out and have fun,” she replies and arranges the lemon cupcakes on a long plastic tray, ready for the glass case.