Bound by Lies: Bound #1 (Adult Romantic Suspence) (8 page)

I smile. “I’m okay, Cade. I trust you.”

He leans down to kiss me, but before his lips reach mine he
pauses. He pulls back with a frown on his face and makes a displeased noise in
his throat. He starts to walk around me.

“What’s wrong?”

“This dress.”

I look down. I can hear his footsteps echoing around me.
“What about it?”

He stops before me, but this time he has a smirk on his
face. “It’s still on you.”

He folds himself around me so that gorgeous smirk takes up
most of my vision. His hands reach around me. I hear the zip opening down my
back and it makes me shiver against him like a baby bird. My dress peels away
from my body and drops on the dirty floor. He doesn’t even give my poor dress a
glance when he lifts my legs out of it then kicks it aside.

“My dress!”

“I’ll buy you a new one.” The roughness of his voice
reverberates in my most sensitive places. He lowers my legs to the floor. His
eyes remain fixed on me. He reaches around again and unclasps my bra. That too
falls away and is discarded across the room somewhere.

He steps back and makes a low growling noise as his eyes
roam across my stretched out body, standing there only in black lace panties,
stockings and a pair of heels. He is already fucking me with those eyes.

When he steps up to me again his eyes take on a playful
twinkle. His hands roam across my bare skin, the touch beginning to heal my
rough scars. Across my neck and shoulder and arms and waist. Everywhere except
where I most desperately want him.

He kisses softly at my mouth, teasing me. I purr and push
forward, desperate to taste his tongue. But he reaches up to hold my neck
firmly with his left hand and hold me back. He keeps his mouth far enough away
so I can’t reach his lips but close enough so I am breathing his hot breath. I
watch as he brings two the fingers of his other hand up to his mouth. He stares
at me as he laps at them. My pussy clenches when I see the moisture glistening
at the end of his fingers.
Please, touch me with them.
Fuck me with
them.

Instead he rubs them across my partially parted lips, breath
escaping from them in short bursts. He is showing my mouth what he is going to
do to other parts of me. He dips a fingers in, finding the wetness on my tongue
and withdraws it again. He teases my lips and the tip of my tongue until
finally, slowly, he pushes his fingers in. They press along the length of my
tongue. I cry out around his fingers. I keep my eyes on him as I suck. And he
watches me as he thrusts his fingers in and out of my lips.

A small growl escapes him and both his hands melt down my
body, his fingers making a moist trail across my skin. Down. Over my breasts,
down my stomach.
Please keep going
. His fingers stop along the edge of
my underwear for a moment. Bastard. He is still toying with me. It makes me ache,
but it feels so good. One hand slips into the lace. He fingers search until
they find the slickness between my legs, exactly where I have been aching for
three months. The shock of his touch makes me gasp. But it doesn’t soothe the
ache. It makes it worse. I tilt my hips and moan. I need more.

“Oh, kitten,” his voice drops to a low rumble, “you are so
ready for me.”

I was ready the moment I laid eyes on you.
My eyes
flutter shut as I press my pussy around his…

But his fingers are gone, snapping the band of my underwear
as his hand leaves my body completely. My eyes open in shock. I cry out in
frustration and pull against my finger trap.

“Don’t move,” he commands.

My body reacts like a sob between my legs, wetter and
tighter at the loss of his touch. Oh God. When is he going to stop torturing
me? I hang there, arms to the sky as if in prayer, needing him so badly that I
am shaking. That I am dizzy. That the only thing holding me up is this
restraint.

He walks to the side of the room and begins to blow out the
candles. One by one.

“What are you doing?”

“Do you trust me, kitten?”

“Of course.”

He doesn’t answer, he continues to make his way around the
room, blowing out the candles. As the room darkens shade by shade, the old
painful memories are shut out. As my eyes become useless with every candle
blown out, my other senses heighten to compensate. I begin to feel where the
still air meets my skin and just that touch alone makes my body break out in
goose bumps. I begin to hear the difference in the sound when he steps on
pieces of wood or glass, each crush and crumble sending little tickles through
my inner ear. From under the smell of vanilla and rosemary potatoes the damp
must of this place begins to surface.

Soon, the only candles left are the three on the table
behind me. I can see my shadow touching the far wall. I hear him walk back
towards me. My shadow moves along the pitted floor, so I know he has picked up
the candelabra and is carrying it with him.

He stops behind me and I hear the soft clatter of the
candelabra being placed on the ground. On the far wall I can see both our
shadows. He is so close, so close I can feel the heat rolling off him.

I hear the sound of his jacket falling to the floor. I
watch, mesmerized as the shadow-Cade on the wall unbuttons his shirt and pulls
it off his rounded shoulders, revealing a gorgeous thick chest that tapers to
his waist. Then he slips out of his shoes and socks. His belt draws from his
body like a long snake, then that too is lost to the floor. Finally he unzips
his pants and drops them to the ground.

Cade is naked behind me and his shadow is naked in front of
me. I draw in a breath, realizing that I had been holding it in. His fingers
find my hips and he slowly peels my underwear down. I step out of them, having
to rely on the grips above me to maintain my balance. I am left in just my
garter belt, stockings and my heels. I hear his breath huff out and the last
three candles go out, leaving us in total darkness.

“Did you miss me, kitten?” His arms close around my waist
from behind.

“Yes,” I cry as his hands move across my skin, one hand
travelling up, the other travelling down. One hand grips my jaw, two fingers
teasing my mouth again. He runs his other hand between my legs, his fingers teasing
my folds.

His breathe is hot in my ear. “I missed you.”

At the same time he pushes inside me with his fingers, two inside
my mouth and two inside my pussy. Pleasure thrums like a tightened band between
my mouth all the way down to my core. He starts to thrust, slowly at first. I
moan around him, I suck, I tighten, I try and push out with both ends of my
body so that I can get more. He gives in to my need and pushes faster and
deeper. I can’t hold on any longer. I come around his fingers. And my muffled
cries echo into the ceiling of this warehouse.

His fingers slow and his teeth nip at my neck as I float
back down. This buzzy need for him is already building again, so I start to
move against him again. But he pulls his fingers away from me, the space behind
my lips feeling empty. I whimper.

“Cade?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He keeps his hands on me and uses my body to guide him as he
walks around me until he stands facing me. His hands find my face and I can
smell my arousal around us. His lips find mine in the dark. His tongue is rough
and insistent. And I can feel he is done with waiting. His hips draw forward,
trapping his erection between us. His arms are bent between us, still holding
my face. His forearms press against my breasts and I can’t help move my but rub
my nipples along his thick, hard forearms. The hairs on his arms are rough and
feel wonderful against me. We both pour our groans into each others’ mouths and
around our tongues.

His hand slips between my legs to rub the head of his cock
against me. Oh. Yes.

“Please,” I whimper, “please take me.”

“No, kitten.” He positions his erection between my legs.
“This isn’t me
taking
you. This is us giving ourselves to each other.”

And he enters me, filling all the emptiness inside. And my
heart explodes like a bomb.

The present

In my small apartment, my fingers rub down that very first
dress. I shudder when I remember how it was ruined on the floor of that
warehouse. This ache for Caden grows into a sharp pulsing. I need to hurry and
get dressed. My fingers reach the next dress, the emerald dress, the very first
one he bought for me but I didn’t wear. I realize I haven’t actually worn it
for him. I have had plenty of other dresses to wear. Yes. This is the one for
tonight.

When I put it on, the silk skirt flows over my body like
melted chocolate. It makes me gasp as my sensitized skin accepts this little
pleasure. The thought that Caden will soon be pulling this dress off me makes
me bite my lip.

Damn him. He has infiltrated every corner of my life. He has
even turned dressing myself into an act of foreplay. And I wouldn’t have it any
other way.

I don’t bother with jewelry. Apart from a pair of pearl
earrings that used to be my mother’s, I don’t own any. I finger my hair, which
is sitting in loose waves over my shoulders. The softness of the strands tickles
my back where the dress scoops low.

I put on the barest slick of mascara then glide on red
lipstick. I imagine how sexy the red would look leaving rings around his cock.
I can only imagine it. I still haven’t seen him naked. Rule number three: I
can’t see him naked.

Finally I dab a simple lavender perfume on my wrists. With
one last gratifying look in the mirror, I grab my small overnight bag, a small
envelope, and lock up.

I get in my second-hand car, parked out on the street. It’s
a non-descript white sedan, pre-owned but solid and reliable. This is exactly
what I need when I have to hit the road and never come back. I keep a stash of
cash under a slip in the floor carpet under the passenger’s seat just in case.

I drop the bag on the passenger seat floor and place the
envelope on the seat. My fingers stroke the edge of the envelope before I turn
on the ignition and pull away from the curb.

I have almost three hours to get to the cabin, but I have
one thing I need to do before I get there. I set my GPS to Navajo Valley.

Navajo Valley is another large city in this state. It is
about two hours out of my way but I was going to make this journey anyway. My
eyes are peeled when I enter the outskirts of Navajo Valley. I have never been
here and I will never come back after this.

I choose a quiet suburban street to roll down slowly. The
houses are quiet and with my window down I can hear dogs barking. I spot what I
am after across the street. My heart skitters a little, but I force myself to
keep going until I reach the next intersection. I hook into a U-turn and go
back the way I came. I pull up to the slightly dented postbox.

I reach over to the passenger seat and pick up the envelope.
On the front is an address that I know well. I lived there for two years before
I was forced to start running. Seeing it fills me with memories of warm
cashmere hugs that smelled of baby powder laundry soap, the sound of poetry
being spoken out loud, and the scent of pumpkin pie and rosemary potatoes. A
stab of longing fills me. And the faces of my grandparents float into my mind,
the two people who raised me. And the two people I failed the most.

I’m sure they hate me. I’m sure they hate that I still send
them cards. Just to let them know I’m alive. Just so I can feel some sort of
connection with them. But… I can’t stop. Just knowing that these written words
connect us by an invisible thread makes me feel better. And I am selfish.

Inside there is a card with a poem by Robert Frost.
Two
roads diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry I could not travel both…
Frost
is one of my grandfather’s favorite poets. He used to read poems to me at night
in bed when I couldn’t sleep. Which happened often in the months after my
parents died.

I sometimes find myself wandering stores for greeting cards
and I collect the ones with poems on them. Is it sad that the only way I can
speak to my only living family is by using words written by people long dead?

Other than the poem the card is blank. No “Dear Grandma and
Grandpa”. No “I miss you” or “I’m sorry”. I haven’t signed it. I didn’t even
write their names on the front and I don’t write a return address on the back
of the card. But they’ll know it is from me. I don’t lick the stamp so no one
can get my DNA. I am paranoid, but it has kept me alive so far.

I get out of my car. I crush the envelope against my chest
in a hug, just for a moment. Then I slip the envelope and my love through the
dark slit on the postbox and imagine it now flying through the ether towards
them. When I hear the soft thud of the envelope hitting the bottom I force
myself to cut these feelings off. With all my insides walled up again, I slip
back into my car, noticing a small gap in the blinds of the house closest to me
has just flicked closed. Someone noticed me. Shit. I need to go. I try to stamp
down the rising paranoia and pull away from the curb as fast as I can.

As I drive along the tree-lined mountain road nearing
Midnight Falls the low buzzing in my core starts to rattle with anticipation.
This need I have for Caden Thaine is like a phoenix in my body. Arising again
and again from the ashes, no matter how many times I am consumed by him. What
he gives me is more than sexual, more than physical… there is an exquisite
alchemy to the joining of our bodies and our souls. When we are together we
absolve each other of our sins and we fill in each other’s missing pieces to
become whole. Without him I am broken pieces. With him I remember that I am
worthy.

I eye the sign for Midnight Falls and turn off the gravel
road onto a slim dirt path through trees. I wonder if Caden is already there. I
wonder what he was doing before he came to see me.

I try to imagine what he ate for breakfast. Did he read the
morning paper while he ate? Then I let myself wonder what it would be like to
wash up breakfast dishes next to him.

Of course, things are better the way they are, aren’t they?
Maybe, if we could see each other like two normal people, the excitement would
die and we would become like every other couple, sharing the vapidness of our
lives; the laundry and shopping for groceries and brushing our teeth next to
each other.

As I spy the first of the cabins up ahead, I try to shut
this line of thinking off. It doesn’t help to be this curious. If I wanted to
know who he really was then it would only be fair that I would have to reveal
who I am… who I was. And I’m not about to do that. Although a part of me yearns
to tell him. A part of me is dying to take that next step and reveal the truth
to him. But most of me is terrified that he won’t hesitate to run.

Cabin number 11 is the furthest cabin along this private
road. A single white sedan is parked out front. A rush goes through me. Caden
is here. I park next to it and check myself in the mirror before I get out. The
air here is fresh and it feels cool against my bare forearms. Through the thick
trees that surround us I can hear the distant rush of water. I eye the sedan
briefly as I pass it on my way to the front door of the cabin. It’s a rental.
Of course. If he doesn’t bring his motorbike he always drives a rental.

The door opens and all my previous thoughts are lost to the
wind when I see him. Caden leans against the doorframe taking up most of its
space with his sheer size. He wears fitted cream pants, topping them off with a
black button-up shirt. He looks so damn good it makes my mouth water.

“Hello, kitten. You look beautiful.” He reaches for me and
pulls me inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

The inside of the cabin is decorated in wood and cream with
splashes of gold and green, I suppose to represent the forest outside. Apart
from a separate toilet the cabin is all one room separated into areas – living,
dining, bedroom – by a slight shift in the floor height.

Caden takes my bag off me and places it on the low rattan
seat at the foot of the bed. I eye the bed. It looks so soft, piled up with so
many pillows that I could sink into it. Perhaps I will later. When I look back
to Caden, his eyes are roaming all over me and I feel I may as well be naked
already. He growls from deep in his throat. I really, really like it when he
does that.

“You wore the first dress. I think it’s my favorite dress,”
he says, stepping closer to me and gazing at me as if I am the most precious
thing he has ever seen. I feel it. When he looks at me I feel precious. Worthy.

“You said that about the last dress.”

“Hmmm,” rumbles from his throat. His eyes become unfocused.
“The red dress that clung to you here and dropped so obligingly at the back.”
He wraps his fingers firmly around my neck to replicate the dress’s halter
neck. Then he traces his other hand down the length of my spine to where the
dress sat to expose the small of my back. I shiver and press my throat into his
palm, making my lower belly clench.

He pulls me to him by the neck. He growls in his throat as
he inhales into my hair then runs his nose along my shoulder and up to my ear.
It is animalistic and possessive and the knowledge he is breathing me in makes
my legs tremble. I run my hands through his hair, one of the few places I am
allowed to touch him. His hair is soft through my fingers and smells fresh like
shampoo.

I tilt my head to kiss him but stop when he says, “Do you
know what makes me sad?”

I pull back expecting a joke, but I see his brows pressing
down upon his gorgeous green eyes. His eyes match my dress.

I frown. “What is it?”

He continues to stare at me, forlorn.

“You can tell me, Caden,” I urge.

His mouth parts. My heart thumps and I wonder what he is
about to reveal to me. And I realize I am so desperate for any information on
who Caden is. What makes him happy? What makes him sad? If I could reach inside
his mind and scoop out all his secrets I would. And I would love them and
cherish them because they are part of him. No matter what they are.

I wonder, would he do the same if he knew my secrets?

“It makes me sad… that I can’t look at all of you
and
kiss
you at the same time.”

I giggle. Me. Giggle. Like, an actual giggle. And not
because I want to get my own way. He is being silly and gorgeous and I love it.
Damn him. Look what he does to me.

He maintains his seriously distressed look. “Don’t laugh at
me, kitten. This is a very serious problem. My eyes and mouth are jealous of
each other.”

“Aw, no. Don’t be sad.” I brush his lip with my thumbs in
order to tug them up into a smile. “They can share me.”

He closes his lips over mine, possessing them, and his hands
start to roam across my body. They tug and brush against the silk of this dress,
making my skin tingle. I make all sorts of uncensored noises in my throat. Our
kiss deepens and my head gets dizzy. It has been almost two weeks since the
last time we saw each other and I am desperate for him.

So much of me is aching. I ache to run my hands across his
chest and his stomach. I ache to unbutton his shirt and push it off his hard
shoulders. I ache to tangle my fingers in his dark chest hair that I only
glimpse peeking out from his shirt. I ache to have him naked and laid out under
me.

Screw the rules.

My hands slide down his face and neck to his top button.

His hands cut off my access to his chest as he grabs my
wrists. He pulls back from my lips and I whimper. He shows me my own hands and
tuts at me like a master would show a naughty puppy a chewed up toy.

“You know you can’t do that.”

A flash of anger shoots through me. Defiance. “Why not?”

“Rule number two, I can touch you but–”

“I can’t touch you. Yes, I know the stupid rule.” I have
been dying slowly from this stupid rule for months now.

“So why do you–”

“Why? Why can’t I touch you?”

“It’s just what I need, kitten. You know this. Shit. Why the
hell are we going over this again?”

“I don’t know. Why the hell
are
we going over this
again? What about what I need, Caden?”

Anger causes my stomach to tighten. I yank my arms from him
and he lets me go. I spin and stride over to one side of the cabin. It only
takes a few words and a few steps for the distance between us to feel like a
canyon. Yes, we’ve been over this, but he has never given me a proper answer.
He should be the one to apologize.

I hear him sigh and drop down onto the bed.

No, I’m not giving in first. Again. So I stand my ground. I
stare out the glass door that leads to the balcony. Beyond I can see nothing
but forest leaves. It is stunning out here. And peaceful. Yet a silent storm
rages between us.

This is stupid. We shouldn’t be fighting, we should be
loving each other. Who knows when we will get to see each other again? But he
should be the one to apologize, shouldn’t he?

The seconds tick past and I don’t hear him walk to me. I
turn my head and take a peek at him. He is sitting on the edge of the bed,
torso bent over so that his forehead rests in his fingers. His eyes are closed,
but I can tell by the creases across his face he’s in pain.

I’m a terrible person. I shouldn’t have tried to break his
rules. I should have just left it alone – shouldn’t I? Like he leaves my secrets
alone?

But where I once would have been grateful for this privacy,
now I rage against it. I want to tell him my secrets. I want us to tell each
other our secrets. I want to close this last gap in our fractured intimacy. I
want him to love me – all of me. And I want to love
all
of him. We just
need to take that last leap of faith…

I turn and walk slowly towards him. I can see by the way his
shoulders hitch that he has heard my footfalls and the swishing of my dress.
But he doesn’t take his face from his hands.