Bound for Nirvana: (The Bound Trilogy Book 3) (3 page)

“What?” Jackson said, catching me copping an eyeful.

I nodded once. “Nice tatt.”

“Thanks.” He pulled the shirt on and swiftly fastened the buttons.

“You sure you’re forty-two?”

Scooping his shirt up off the floor, he tossed it in my direction. “Stick your eyes back in, kiddo, and let’s get out of here.”

After locking up, we rode the elevator back down to the lobby. Jackson’s face crumpled with displeasure as he fussed with his tie and collar in the mirrored walls.

“It looks fine,” I said, batting his hands away.

“It’s the color.”

“It’s fine. Why do you only wear white anyway?”

He shrugged, continuing to fuss. “Sort of my uniform.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out of your suit.”

“Uh, I think you just did.”

“Oh yes,” I laughed, shifting my eyebrows playfully. “How could I forget?”

Jackson pulled up outside Ethan’s apartment—our apartment. My home that I now shared with the man I loved.

“Thanks for today, Jackson. For all of it, I mean.”

Knowing I was referring to the advice he’d offered earlier, he nodded. “Anytime, kiddo. I’ll arrange to get your stuff to you, soon as.”

Shifting, I began to climb out of car, and then remembering something, thrust my hand into my purse. “Here, you have it.” I tossed
The Jungle Book
on to the passenger seat next to him, watching as his eyes crinkled in pleasant surprise. Placing my finger to my lips in a shushing gesture, I winked. “Our little secret.”

A tentative smile ghosted his lips. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

After a long, hot shower, I dried off, styled my hair into soft flowing waves, and applied makeup. I picked out bra and panties from one of the ludicrously expensive lingerie sets Ethan had given me—a black lace bra which barely covered the buds of my nipples and a matching thong so skimpy it was almost pointless. I slid them on over my warm, glowing skin, the fabric so incredibly delicate, I still felt naked. I also felt sexy. Incredibly sexy. My eyes drifted down over my body as I gazed at my reflection in the closet mirror. I was as lithe and toned as I’d ever been, a result, no doubt, of my very busy and strenuous sex life—something else I had Ethan to thank for.

My gaze journeyed down the length of my legs, a somewhat impressive distance from hip to ankle, and my favorite part of my body. Jia hated my legs—not in a vindictive way, but in the way you hate something you want but can’t have. A result, no doubt, of my once pointing out that the tops of my legs came level with her waist when we stood barefoot, side by side, and the reason you never see Jia without a pair of killer heels.

The thought made my gaze shift to the box I’d shoved on the bottom shelf the day before, and I felt my pulse begin to elevate. Slowly, I bent to retrieve the box, countless images of red patent shoes from fragmented dreams suddenly materializing from the archives of mind. I shook my head, trying to oust the feeling of irrational disgust that had turned my previously warm, glowing skin to a fine blanket of goose bumps.

“They’re just shoes.” I forced a laugh in an attempt to trivialize my reaction, and with clammy hands suddenly ripped off the lid. Without further thought, I removed a shoe, my fingertips gliding over the smooth, glossy surface as I tried to make sense of my feelings—an intense, almost childlike excitement muddled with the stupid, inscrutable notion that I should be afraid.

Transferring all my weight to one foot, I reached out to a shelf, steadying myself as I raised the other and slid on the shoe. The skin on my foot became instantly prickly—an imaginary symptom, I was sure—but I ignored it and donned the other shoe. My heart beat rapidly as I turned again to face the mirror, not focusing on the shoes at first, but instead making the same focal journey from hips to ankles, until my now darkened eyes finally came to rest.

I stared in absolute awe at the most perfect pair of shoes I’d ever had the privilege of owning.

I absolutely loved them.

The glossy, cherry-red hue appeared to warm my usually pale skin perfectly. And the deep sole and long heel only proved to accentuate the extent of my legs, now making them seem impossibly long. Instinctively, my lips curved into a smile and I turned to walk into the bedroom to get the feel of them. They were high, probably slightly higher than I was used to, but they didn’t pinch. As far as shoes go, they were actually quite comfortable.

God bless Abby.

After walking the length of the room, I turned to face the full-length mirror opposite the bed and began to sashay back toward it.

That’s when I sensed, rather than saw, something off toward the edge of the room and froze, my gaze shifting to reveal the source. Ethan stood in the doorway watching me, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, nostrils flaring, his eyes ablaze. With what? Reverence? Desire? Anger? They locked onto mine before gliding penetrably and hungrily over my searing skin.

“Are you trying to kill me, woman?” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“That wasn’t my intention, no. You’re home early.”

He cocked a single brow. “Oh? Do you often parade around practically naked for your own indulgence?”

I raised my hands in a gesture of surrender. “Busted.”

“You’re kidding,” he spluttered, his second brow shooting up to mirror the other.

My lips flickered playfully. “Yes, I’m kidding.” But there was no hint of amusement in his unblinking eyes as they stared back into mine. Shit, he was still angry. Suddenly feeling foolish and far too exposed, I turned to head toward the closet. “I’ll get dressed.”

“You’ll do no such thing. We have unfinished business to attend to, if my memory serves me correctly.”

The sudden pang of arousal at his words halted me immediately. The memory of our encounter in the boardroom at Wilde Industries hadn’t been far from my mind all day.

“But first, you need to be taught a lesson.”

Oh? Oh!

“A lesson? You’re going to punish me?” I wasn’t sure whether my elevating pulse rate was due to panic or pure, unadulterated desire.

He hesitated before answering, his eyes skimming provocatively over my hyper-sensitive skin. “No. I mean a lesson under the terms of which learning is intended to occur. Where, hopefully, you’ll gain insight into something you currently seem unfamiliar with.” He paused, his brows furrowing thoughtfully. “I suppose the learning objective is the same as that of a punishment. A means to ensure you don’t continue to make the same mistakes. To stop fucking up any chance you have of ever being happy.”

As if that offered satisfactory clarification, I nodded. Although I was no more certain as to what he meant, the tone of his voice warned me not to inquire further.

“I’d like to shower first.” Seeming to drag his gaze reluctantly from mine, he moved toward the bathroom. “Would you mind waiting for me?”

“No.” I turned to head for the bed to make myself comfortable.

“In the lounge.”

“Sorry?”

“Wait for me in the lounge.”

“Oh. Okay.” Confused, I lifted a foot to remove a shoe.

“Leave them on.”

Still unsure as to his intentions or what to make of his tone, I said nothing, just nodded and headed for the door.

“Angel?”

“Yes.” I turned toward him.

“You can put on your robe.”

Chapter Two

In the hope that the peaceful meanderings of my cold-blooded friends might help to soothe my nerves and fevered anticipation, I curled up in my chair in front of the tank to wait. I had no idea what Ethan had in store for me, but I was prepared to accept whatever lesson he felt I needed to learn. If it took away the hurt I saw his eyes and heard in his voice last night and this morning, I would do anything—anything to prove to him that I would never allow my toxic family to infest our happiness again.

“Angel?” Ethan’s low, husky tones startled me.

He stood in the doorway wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung, faded jeans, the sight of him inciting my taste buds to drool desirously, like chocolate melting on my tongue.

“Come here,” he instructed.

Obeying instantly, I unfurled my legs and moved across the room toward him. He gazed at me, his expression still inscrutable, and then slowly he moved around to my back.

“Close your eyes.”

Again, I complied without hesitation. I felt something soft brush gently against my eyelids, a smooth, silky fabric blocking out all remaining light as it tightened against my skin. He was blindfolding me.

My heart struck my chest wall with a sudden instinctive foretaste of what was to come. The blindfold, his insistence that I wear my red shoes, his near-naked form in the doorway, suggested only one thing. But his talk of my needing to learn a lesson, his tone, and impenetrable mood hinted at something different. Nonetheless, my skin prickled with eager expectation as I waited for my next instruction in the darkness behind my eyelids.

Suddenly, his voice startled me. He was closer than I’d imagined, his breath warm against my ear, his smell… exquisite. “How does that make you feel?”

Misreading the question, I nodded to let him know I was okay.

“No, Angel.
Tell
me how it makes you feel.” His voice was slightly harsher than before, more demanding.

I thought about what he wanted me to say, trying to tune in to the sensations I was feeling, but struggling. “Restricted,” I said finally.

“Anything else?” He’d shifted, his lips grazing the lobe of my other ear now.

“Dependent.”

“Think beyond the blindfold.”

My mind searched for the answer, and then after a beat I whispered, “Aware. I feel more aware.”

“Of what?”

“You.”

“What is it about me you’re more aware of?”

“How close you are… Your scent.”

“My scent? And what does it smell like?”

Hesitating, I scrambled for words to try and describe it, eventually arriving at, “You.”

I felt him smile briefly against my cheek and then he was gone. Sensing his gaze on me, I surmised that he’d shifted around front, and then I felt a slight tug. The belt on my black, silk robe which surrounded my waist was being gently pulled, not to release it, but to encourage me to step forward.

“Come with me,” he said suddenly.

Instinctively, I held out my hand for him to take.

“Do you trust me, Angelica?”

“Yes, of course,” I said without delay.

“Then trust that I won’t let you collide with anything, and I won’t let you fall. I’ll pull on the robe to gently guide you, but you must follow your instinct. Concentrate. Focus your attention on what you know of the layout of your home.”

My home
. His words resonated within me, adding another layer to the blanket of assurance I needed to know that everything was going to be alright.

“You’ve walked from the lounge to the bedroom many times—that’s where we’re heading. Picture it. Listen to your natural reasoning and respond.”

Cautiously at first, I stepped forward, my hands outstretched in front of me as a tactual sensing aid to gauge space and obstacles, like the whiskers of a cat. I could sense the gentle pull of the belt around my waist, not enough to navigate me, but enough to give me the confidence to proceed. As advised, I pictured the corridor in my mind’s eye, passing the other bedrooms and the office as I moved. When I’d counted the right amount of rooms to pass, and was fairly certain I’d reached our bedroom, I stretched out my arm to feel for the opening, feeling pleased when my fingers came in contact with the doorjamb.

Halting, I waited for Ethan to assure me, to give me some indication that I was in the right place, but when he said nothing, I decided to trust what my instinct had told me and turned into the room. I walked confidently now, slow, careful strides until I was sure I was in the center of the room.

“Stop.” Ethan’s command halted me instantly. “Very good. Now I want you to focus again. What are you aware of now?”

“There are candles burning.” The answer came immediately, my senses suddenly acutely alert to something my subconscious was only vaguely aware of when I entered the room and for some reason had chosen to ignore.

“How do you know?”

“I can smell their scent. It’s my favorite.”

“What’s the scent?”

“Ylang-ylang, lavender, and lemon.”

“Good. Anything else?”

Concentrating hard, I used my senses to identify any further variations in the room. “The light is muted. As if it’s just the candles that are lighting the room.”

“Good,” he said again. “Okay. Something in the room is out of place. Take two steps forward—carefully, I don’t want you to bang your legs. Use your hands to feel for it. Identify it.”

As instructed, I stepped forward, my hands reaching out until they came into contact with soft, plush fabric. I followed the lines of the piece of furniture, my fingertips running smoothly along until they reached the chic curve of the scrolling arm. “It’s the chaise lounge,” I said with confidence.

The beautiful piece of furniture usually sat at an angle in the corner of the room. It was extravagantly covered in black luscious velvet with gorgeous antique feet.

“Excellent. Now turnaround and move so that you’re standing at the bottom of the chaise, your calves almost touching… then remove your robe.” His voice was gentle, but his words were a demand, and I crushed my thighs together, an instinctive response to the tightening muscles of my core.

Moving into position, I pulled down on the tie around my waist, the folds of silken material falling open.

“Let it drop to the floor.” The instruction came from in front of me. Ethan was close but not quite in touching distance.

I pushed the robe from my shoulders, stalling it in the crook of my arms before allowing it to fall gently to the floor. My ears caught the sound of a soft, almost inaudible gasp, which I was sure, under normal circumstances, I would have missed, but my senses were now wired and alert.

“You look exquisite, Cinders. The shoes are… remarkably seductive.”

The edge of my lip curled gently as I recalled how sexy the shoes had made me feel.