Bound by Lies: Bound #1 (Adult Romantic Suspence) (5 page)

Rats. Under all that hair is one hell of a brain. Nothing
gets past her.

I sigh. “Okay, so maybe he drinks whiskey. Macallan is one
of his favorites.”

Dixie points the lid of the scotch bottle at me in triumph.
“I knew you had a man. Didn’t I say she had a man, Robbie?” she nudges the big
guy.

“Yes, ya did, Dixie. Yes, ya did.” Robert speaks in his low
rolling tone.

“And he drinks Macallan, Robbie. That’s my kinda man.” She
turns to me. “So when we gonna meet him?”

I cringe. This is exactly why I didn’t want anyone to know
about Cade.

“I don’t know when. He’s away a lot. On business.”

“I think you’re making excuses,” she sings.

I keep my mouth shut. But thankfully Dixie becomes focused
when she starts pouring. The lady’s smart as hell, but for some reason, Dix
simply can’t concentrate on two things at once.

“Now I know you don’t really drink,” she says. “But you
absolutely cannot refuse a birthday shot.
Your
birthday shot.”

I sigh. It’s pointless to argue with her. I take the glass
from her fingers and she squeals with glee.

“Here’s to you, honey. Happy birthday, however old you may
be. May your days be filled with happiness and love, and your nights filled
with lots and lots of hot sex!”

I laugh and we clink and we drink.

I taste a flare of dried fruit and a hint of cinnamon before
the soft burning takes over on the way down. I make a face.

Dixie starts pouring another round, but I put my hand over
my glass. No. Not more than one. Dixie and I stare at each other for a second.
But she seems to understand. She nods and moves the bottle over the next glass.

I stare at the bottle and the glasses and at us sitting
around this table performing a well-worm social ritual of friendship. My
stomach tightens. Don’t get too attached to these people. Don’t do it. It’ll
only make it harder when you have to leave.

“I should go home,” I say.

“Stay, honey. You don’t have to drink, but just stay and
chat. You can just have water. Jeff, get her a glass of water.”

Jeff jumps to his feet and runs behind the bar.

“Thank you, Dixie, but I should go.”

“But it’s your birthday celebration. Stay. Eat. Drink.”

I fight the urge to remind her that it isn’t my birthday.

Jeff returns with my water and places it in front of me with
a flourish. He slings his arm around my shoulders. “Please stay?” he croons.
“It won’t be the same without you.”

“But it’s getting late,” I say lamely.

Robert catches my eye. “I’ll walk you home when you’re ready
to go. Don’t you worry about that. I’ll get you home safe no matter the hour.”

I stare back at the three pairs of pleading eyes staring at
me. I know I shouldn’t say yes. I know I shouldn’t let my guard down and get
close to them.

I’m usually comforted by feeling anonymous and cut off from
the life that goes on around me. But tonight something tugs inside me. The
warmth that these three people have bathed me in has reignited a long-forgotten
want. I want friends. I want to feel like I matter. The only way I have this is
when I am with Caden, but he isn’t here. And the bastard won’t even give me a
way to contact him.

I am selfish. So I give in and say yes, eliciting a round of
cheers. And hope I won’t end up regretting it.

When I get home later I kick off my shoes and dump my bag on
the bed. Carefully, I take out Jeff’s drawing of us. I smile. He really does
have talent. I hope he gets the chance to do something with it.

I know I should throw it away. I can’t allow myself this
attachment to this picture. Even small things can bind you. But when I put my
hand to the paper to crumple it up, my fingers shake but they don’t close. I
can’t do it.

I pick up the paper and open the top drawer by my bed.
Inside are all the notes that Caden has ever sent to me as well as unopened
greeting cards that I have collected for the poems written inside. Maybe I can
keep it for a while. Just a while. As I slip the drawing inside, my eye catches
on a note.

Entrance to Cherry Farm Park, Thursday, 3pm.

I remember this note. It was Caden’s second note. It was
also the first note that he had managed to slip into my bag. I don’t know how
it had gotten there. All I know is that the note wasn’t in my bag at the
beginning of the day. But when I got home, it was.

I had racked my brain over when it could have happened.
Maybe at the coffee shop where I stopped on my way to work. Maybe the grocery
store where I bought my food. Hell, he could have slipped it into my bag while
I was standing at the lights, his hands so close he could have touched me, his
nose so close he could have smelled me.

I still don’t know how the hell he managed to get it in
there without me seeing him. And he won’t tell me when I ask even now. He just
gets that cheeky shit-eating grin that he gets when I ask him something he
doesn’t want to answer. Then he kisses me and that distracts me enough to
forget what I had just asked. Hell, I forget my own name when Caden kisses me.

I know I should have been terrified that Caden knew where to
find me that day. That he knew exactly where I was going to be. Instead, like
an idiot, it thrills me. The thought that he had at some time been close enough
to touch me without my knowing makes me dizzy. Even now, I imagine that he is
watching me like an angel protector.

I fall sleep thinking of
Cherry Farm Park, Thursday, 3pm.

Six months ago

Cherry Farm Park sits in a pocket of this city’s river. It
is mostly green space but dotted here and there with small well-tended patches
of flowers and oak trees. Caden is already standing at the arched entrance when
I arrive five minutes early. He’s dressed in dark distressed denim and a plain
black shirt. Over his arm he carries the same brown leather jacket he wore the
first night we met.

I see his look of appreciation sweep over my skinny jeans
and black silky top tied at the back of the neck with a bow. I hold my own tan
leather jacket over my arm. When we walk together he takes my hand and I
realize we look like one of those couples that have been together so long they
dress alike. Black and denim and brown leather.

“I don’t have much time today, but I thought we could get an
ice cream cone each and walk along the river,” he says. “Is that okay?”

I nod with enthusiasm. “I haven’t had an ice cream cone in
years.”

He pulls me towards the small ice cream stand by the
entrance. We stand behind a mother with her three kids who take their time
ordering. I stare at the stainless steel tubs filled with all different
flavors.

“Shall we play a game?” I say with a cheeky grin. For some
reason I feel childish. Giddy like I’ve just gotten off a merry-go-round.

He raises an eyebrow. “Maybe. What’s the game?”

“I get to choose your ice cream and you choose mine. Then we
have to explain why.”

He smiles wide. “This will be interesting.”

We reach the front of the line and I point to the tub filled
with pale green ice cream, thick with nutty pieces. “Could he have the
pistachio, please?” I glance over at Cade.

He is looking at me with amused curiosity. He looks only at
me, even as the girl behind the counter scoops up the ice cream and hands it to
him. He glances at the alien-looking scoop then raises an eyebrow at me.

I smile internally. He can just wonder a little longer.

I look back at the flavors under the glass and try to guess
what he will pick. Maybe the Grand Marnier, bold yet sophisticated, or the Tia
Maria, sultry and sexy?

I can’t help but pout a little when he says, “Dark chocolate
for her, please.”

I take the cone and thank the girl while he pays.

He takes me to one of the large benches that looks out onto
the river. Like the last date, I sit on one side of the bench then he sits
flush against my side. My breath hitches when his leg comes into contact with
mine. I swear he does it on purpose. It feels like he is sitting closer to me
than last time, if that is even possible. My fingers itch to dig into those
thick muscles of his and to run my nails up the insides of his thighs up
towards where his jeans are straining from his…

“So, pistachio?” he says.

I blink and clear my throat. I hope I wasn’t licking my lips
when I was staring at his pants or anything obvious like that. “Because it’s
like you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s rough with hard pieces all the way through it,
but there is just enough sweetness underneath to balance it. And, well, it’s
totally nuts.”

He laughs and it’s loud and unrestrained. “I like how you
see me.”

I shrug, but inside I am pleased at his reaction. “Why dark
chocolate? It seems pretty plain to me.”

“Oh no, kitten. Dark chocolate is always underestimated
because it appears to be plain, but it is rich and complex and a mixture of
dark and sweet. Which is why it takes a certain palate to be able to fully
appreciate it.” This is how he sees me. His intense gaze unhinges me. But it is
his next words that have my heart lurching. “But most of all, it is my favorite
flavor, and I’ve decided it’s the only one I will have.”

One corner of his mouth pulls up. He grabs my wrist and pulls
my ice cream to his face. He takes a languid lick. Then moans under his breath.
He sticks his tongue out again, wide and flat, for another lick. This time his
wet tongue drags across me as he watches me from between my naked legs.
Oh
yes.
It sends a rush of electricity through my body, my nipples pressing to
attention.
Please, more.
I grab his hair in my fists and pull his tongue
further into my…

Caden lets go of my hand holding my ice-cream cone, watching
me carefully. Shit. I can still feel his fingers on me. And I can feel that I’m
wet, as if his tongue really had been there.

I face forward and focus on my ice cream before I moan or
blurt out something stupid and make a fool out of myself. God. I won’t ever
look at dark chocolate ice cream the same again.

Inside I am a jumble of awareness. I can sense him watching
me as I lick shyly at my ice cream. I can feel the thickness and strength in
his thigh pressed against mine, the brush of his arm against my shoulder as he
eats his. I can sense the way he just
owns
this bench and this space and
the air that I breathe.

The lapping of the river against the bank and the rustle of
wind through leaves fades under the noise of his tongue and his little grunts
of pleasure. I want to be the cause of all those noises. His tongue sucking and
licking against my creamy soft…

I am getting carried away again. My cheeks heat and I press
my thighs together and try not to let it show. I hear him crunching at the end
of his cone. His ice cream is devoured before I have barely licked mine.

“Delicious,” I hear him say.

I force myself not to look at him even though my skin is
pricked with the awareness of his eyes on my face. He murmurs something under
his breath.

“What was that?”

He leans in so his chest is pressing against my shoulder,
causing my eyes to flick to him.

“You have some ice cream here.” He extends his tongue out
and licks a line from my jaw up past the corner of my mouth. Oh God. My insides
turn to jelly and my breaths go shallow.

I turn my head so that my mouth lines up with his and opens
slightly, a plea for him to do it again, this time across my lips. But he
doesn’t. He moves aside and places another languid lap along the other corner
of my mouth.

“And here.” His teeth nip along my jaw, sharp, with enough
pressure for me to feel it sending bolts of electricity through me, but not
enough to really hurt. His hand drags across my thigh until his fingers grip
firmly underneath it, and he pulls me closer to him. The edge of his palm is so
achingly close but not touching the upper seam of my jeans. His nearness warms
me like fire and I want to be burned alive.

“And here.” He takes my earlobe into his mouth and he sucks
gently. If there isn’t a part of my skin that hasn’t erupted in goose bumps, it
does so now. Oh, sweet Jesus.

He pushes his nose into my hair and groans. “Oh, kitten, you
smell good enough to eat.” Then his tongue traces around the shell of my ear.

I forget that we’re in a public place. I push my hips
forward until his hand connects with the most sensitive part of me and a gasp
falls from my lips. I clench my thighs and rock my hips against his hand. My
body is thunder and lightning as the first moan escapes my throat.

Without warning, he snatches his hand away and pulls his
lips off my skin. My eyes flash at him in shock. His face looks passive, but I
can tell his breathing is unsteady.

“You dropped your ice cream,” he says.

I blink, then stare at my hand still hovering in the air,
then at the cone that has fallen to the ground from my limp fingers. I frown as
the rejection turns to anger.

“What game are you playing?”

He doesn’t react. I bristle even further. I stand with the
intention to storm away from him, but he grabs my body with both hands and
pulls me onto his lap. God damn, this man is fast. With the speed at which he
clasped me he should have crushed me, or at least hurt me a little. But he
didn’t. Fast. And strong. Yet incredibly controlled. I shiver internally.

He leans in as he brushes his thumb roughly against my
bottom lip, his eyes glued to my mouth. “Not yet, kitten. Not yet.” He sounds
like he is in pain.

I can’t help myself. I press my open mouth against his thumb
and lick him, getting my first taste of him. His skin tastes of the ocean and
pistachios. Suddenly I am hungry, hungrier than I have even been before and all
that will sate me is him, his skin, his body underneath my lips, my tongue.

I see the flash of heat across his eyes before it disappears
behind his carefully controlled façade. My stomach sinks. “
Not yet, kitten.”
Even though he wants me, I know he won’t let me have him until he decides
it’s time. He is too much in control. Even more than me. Damn him.

“Why not?” I ask, trying to keep the sulk out of my voice
but failing. “I know you want me.”

He chuckles a little. I fight not to roll my eyes.
So
glad I could amuse you, you bastard
.

Then his eyes get serious again and his grip on me becomes
firm. “I’m saying not yet because I know the moment I kiss you I’m not going to
be able to stop. And I’m not rushing you, kitten. I need you to trust me first.
And you don’t trust me yet. I can see it in your eyes.”

My body rages with heat and fire and spits angrily at being
denied him. Again. He feeds me just enough to keep me lit when all I want is to
explode into a brushfire. I want it, even if it burns me in the process. Even
if it sweeps across the world and consumes it, that’s what I want.

I let out an annoyed growl.

“Rule number one?”

I pout. I won’t say the rule. I hate that God damn rule.

“We can be patient. Trust me, kitten. It’s better this way.”

He sets me down onto the bench next to him. It feels like he
has taken gravity from me, and I am left unstable for a moment. God damn.
Somehow, he has tethered me to him. Somehow, he is becoming my earth, my
ground, my gravity. He hasn’t even kissed me yet and already I am being bound.

He takes my hand in his and pulls me to my feet. “Let me
take you home.”

I pout. “It’s not even late.”

“It isn’t, but I have plans soon.”

“What plans?” But more importantly with whom?

He doesn’t answer.

And I understand that he doesn’t want to answer. And he
doesn’t have to. This is us building our version of together. I am comforted in
the knowledge that I can also choose not to answer if he asks a question I
don’t like. Still, a curl of curiosity sits in my stomach. What plans?

He pulls me along the boardwalk until he stops at a
motorcycle that I recognize as his. As I stare at the bike, the beginning of a
plan stirs in my mind. Screw rule number one. When I’m done he won’t even
remember he had plans after this.

Caden doesn’t put me behind him, he puts me in front again.
He straddles the bike behind me, his long arms easily fitting around me to
grasp at the handlebars. His chest fits against my back and his legs press
along mine. It makes my skin crackle like wood against wildfire.

Soon we are moving along the streets of Cherry Farm, a quiet
residential area with wide streets and little traffic. It’s not far from where
I live, so I have limited time. I start rolling my hips and pressing my ass
against him. I lean my head back into the crook of his neck and lick under his
jaw.

“Kitten,” his voice is stern in my ear, his breath and the
closeness of his lips making me shiver. “You’re playing a very dangerous game.”

I can feel his erection growing against me and it spurs me
on to rock with even more enthusiasm. He is mine, I can feel it already. I grab
his thighs and dig my fingers in, pushing back and forward against him. He
growls in my ear. I continue to move, thrusting, rocking, pretending that he is
the one rumbling underneath me, looking up at me, worshipping me. The wind
whipping through my hair sends chills across my searing hot skin, and I imagine
it is his fingers pushing back the strands so he can see my face. A white-hot
energy builds inside me. Back. Forth. Higher and higher. I hear us both panting
over the roar of the bike.

I barely notice him turning onto my street. By the time he
pulls the bike into the small lane next to my building he is so hard against my
back and his thighs so tense under my hands that they are shaking. I am so wet
and blind with desperation that I have become a squirming vessel of melted
liquid held up only by his body. Oh God. I need him now.

The bike stops moving, but he doesn’t turn off the engine.
He grabs my hip with one hand, slides his other arm around my body and reaches
into my open jacket. His thumb brushes across my hardened nipple through my
silk top just as he pushes my hip down so that my clit meets the vibrating seat
through my jeans. It is too much.

I come. My belly clenches before releasing into a single
crescendoing note throughout my body. I can’t help the cry that escapes my open
mouth, my head thrown back like I’m singing to the heavens. I pray that this
doesn’t have to stop.

The intensity ebbs and I feel a buzzing covering me like a
blanket.

I hear his voice in my ear. “It felt so perfect to have you
come apart in my arms, kitten. I’m going to do that to you again soon. But next
time I’m going to be inside you.”

Oh yes, please, I want you inside me.
How is it that
this ache for him is still here even after I just had that amazing orgasm?

I’m limp as he pulls me off his bike. He holds me until the
feeling returns to my legs and I can stand on my own. Then he lets go of me and
mounts his bike again. Sitting on it he is closer to my height.

The realization snaps me out of my fog. “What? You’re not
coming in?”

“No, kitten. I have things to do.”

“But you…” I wave wildly at the direction of his jeans,
which are still straining against his bulk.

He laughs and reaches around my neck to pull my cheek to his
lips. “Be good, kitten.”