Bound to be Punished: Part I (Bound to be Punished Series) (2 page)

              But leave she had. She’d left her apartment and home, her family and her relationship with Charles, and so far she hadn’t paused long enough to look back. Perhaps she’d been afraid that if she looked back she might start second-guessing her decision to go in the first place.

             
I did the right thing,
she repeated to herself mentally. Putting some distance between them had been necessary, and it never would have happened if she continued to live in the same state; living in the same city was absolutely out. There was just no way to resist Charles; his presence got into her in a way unlike any known intoxicant and his absence left her craving for him all the more. At nine years her senior, he represented so many attractive qualities to her, and the fact that he was devilishly handsome only made him all the more enticing.

              Their relationship had been heated and passionate from the beginning, and three years had only intensified that flame. But the intensity of his sexual desires had been more than she was prepared for, more than she knew how to handle. It was why she’d run away to California.

              Only one thing troubled her, but it struck her deeply and she could not ignore it. If she’d done the right thing, why did her stomach flip with excitement and her heart yearn in anticipation of speaking to him? Why was she secretly so happy to see him, there of all places, in a club more than a thousand miles away from home?

              Adam had returned with a round of drinks, but she stood discreetly and dismissed herself briefly to go to the restroom. Keeping her head low, she passed through the throngs of people, getting past the bar and to the restrooms as quickly as possible. A mix of adrenaline and uneasy, thrilling fear coursed through her veins, and she sighed in relief when she door to the women’s room closed behind her.

              The bathroom was empty and still perfectly clean since it was the first night the club had been open; Anne went to the sink and washed her hands reflexively, then splashed a bit of cold water on her face. “Get a grip on yourself,” she admonished herself quietly, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Her auburn hair was loosely curled and teased somewhat wildly about her shoulders, and she could see the dilation of her pupils from already having a few drinks.

              The music was still audible through the walls, although the bathroom was reasonably well soundproofed, and she relished having a few minutes to herself before a pair of young women came in together. They were talking animatedly but paused when they saw her, and she dried her hands off, taking her cue to leave.

              Back at the table, Jessica looked to her with concern, asking, “hey, are you alright? You’re not getting sick, are you?”

              Shaking her head, she looked around as discreetly as she could in search of Charles, but didn’t see him anywhere. “Everything’s okay, just a bit too much to drink perhaps,” she answered vaguely, distracted by her desire to know where her ex-boyfriend had gone.

              “Well, Adam went to dance with another girl he knows,” Jessica shot her an apologetic look, but shrugged; she knew Anne wasn’t head-over-heels for him after all, and she added, “I was waiting for you to get back so we don’t lose the table, but I’m gonna dance with Edward, oaky? Let me know if you feel sick or want to call it a night.”

              I guess he’s more of a ladies’ man than I thought,
Anne sighed but smiled at her friend, encouraging her, “yeah, go for it. I’d like to sit for a little while anyway.”

              They switched spots, with Anne sitting down comfortably in the chair and Jessica flitting off to the dance floor to find her newest interest. Anne watched her friend go fondly, thinking to herself,
I wish I could be as carefree about romance as she is sometimes.

             
The fact that Adam had split didn’t surprise her, either. He was cordial and polite, certainly very charming, but it had become evident while they were talking that they really didn’t have as much in common as she thought.
I suppose he’ll just be office eye-candy,
she decided, happy to accept that he’d never be anything more than the attractive coworker.

              Eying her drink, a lightly alcoholic, fruity thing that Jessica had introduced her to, she contemplated whether it was a good idea to consume it.
To hell with it,
she decided, and took a long drink of the delicious beverage, savoring the alcoholic aftertaste. Whatever Charles Donahue was doing in LA, it wasn’t going to wreck her evening.

***

              He’d seen her on the dance floor shortly after he’d arrived, and his eyes had barely left her since, but Charles took his pleasant time before he chose to approach Anne. Her decision four months previously had not been quickly forgotten, however, and a satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Without even intending to, he’d found his fly-away bird.

              The only thing that remained now was to bring her home.

              When he finally did approach her, Anne never saw it coming and she jumped visibly at the sound of his voice, warm and low as it penetrated through the noise and music in the club; “Of all the places I might have looked for you, this certainly wouldn’t have been one of them.”

              Instantly, her eyes leapt from the dance floor where she’d been watching Jessica, to Charles as he pulled out a chair and took a seat at the table. For a moment, all the sound in the club seemed to fall away and Anne could only hear the roaring of her blood in her ears as her heart first faltered and then began hammering hard in her chest. The strength of her reaction hit her like a punch in the stomach, and she could only stare mutely at him for several moments.

              “What --,” the word came out barely audible and she cleared her throat, trying to reclaim her voice before asking more loudly, “what are you doing here?”

              “Here?” Charles indicated their surroundings and shrugged, “I’m celebrating the opening of
The Serpent’s Pit,
just like everyone else. What are
you
doing here?”

              “I came with a friend,” she answered automatically, then bit her tongue and glared at him, “but that’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

              Now that her initial adrenaline spike was wearing off, and perhaps because she’d also had a bit to drink, she was able to meet Charles’ dark gaze levelly. The familiar depths of his eyes drew her in from across the table, and she felt her nerves alighting with tingles of sensation just from the intensity of how he looked at her.

              “Why didn’t you warn me you’d be in LA?” she asked more quietly than before.

              Raising an eyebrow at her, he leaned back in his chair more comfortably, “first of all, I didn’t even know you moved here; you never did have the courtesy to inform me. Second, how would I have warned you?”

              Her glare returned anew, “you could have called.”

              Charles laughed, “oh really? You changed your phone number.”

              He had her there; she huffed, “then you should have sent an email.”

              Another lazy grin from him; he was enjoying riling her up, “you blocked my email.”

              Biting her tongue, Anne huffed again and fell silent. Jessica was nowhere in sight when she glanced back over to the dance floor, and Charles continued to sit directly across from her at the small table, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

              “As I think you’ll agree, you see, I’m not at fault here,” he added for good measure.

              Although she usually would have felt rather incensed by his attitude, the mixture of alcohol and lingering regret over how she’d called time on their relationship left her feeling more open and she said honestly, “Fair enough, Charles; I’m sorry.”

              She met his eyes when she said the last two words, hoping that her gaze conveyed more than she was comfortable saying in the club. Perhaps she wanted to say
I’m sorry for leaving,
but truthfully she wasn’t. Even if his presence less than two feet from her suddenly hammered home the regret she’d been denying for four months, she wasn’t sorry for having gone.

              “It’s not like you to apologize,” he commented, leaning toward her over the table, “but since I’m here, would you care to dance?”

              Oh no,
she thought, withdrawing slightly in her chair. Dancing with him was a bad idea, especially if she intended to stay out of his bed, all of her instincts screamed as much. Charles held his hand out to her across the table, palm up as he invited her to the dance floor.

              For the second time that night the thought crossed her mind,
oh to hell with it,
and with a decisive action she reached out and accepted his hand. The contact between them was instant and electric, sending a thrill from the palm of her hand up to her shoulder and then hot down the column of her spine to the throbbing center between her legs.

              With practiced ease, he stood and drew her up, leading her through the mass of people, “I can’t say that I care much for the music,” he commented as he drew her firmly into his arms, bringing the length of her body into close contact with his, “but you do look ravishing tonight.”

              A rosy blush spread across her cheeks, fueled by the heat of the alcohol coursing through her veins, and she looked down for a moment to avoid his eyes as they glittered in amusement. Charles had always known he could make her blush unlike anyone else, and he exploited his ability to do so at virtually every opportunity.

              The comment wasn’t wholly unexpected, though. She knew she’d dressed in something of a revealing outfit, in a dark blue dress that clung to her curves and had a skirt that fell above her knees, and he always had loved to see her in a dress. Of course, she hadn’t been expecting to see her ex-boyfriend of all people, or to have his warm hands touching her through the thin fabric of that dress, she’d only intended to look good for the club opening.

              Charles made certain that she had precious little time to think about it, though. Spinning her and bringing her back into his arms with her back pressed intimately against his chest, he began dancing with her, each smooth movement full of a sensual grace.

              “Tell me why you left,” he led her as they danced, continuing just loud enough for her to hear him, “I didn’t stop you, but you must know I didn’t want you to go. So why did you?”

              Shaking her head, she sighed before looking up at him, “This isn’t really a place to talk about that, do we have to?”

              He regarded her seriously, the colored light dancing over them even as they continued to move to the beat of the music, “Then come somewhere else with me. Let’s go get a drink.”

              A wry grin stole across her lips before she could stop herself, and she laughed as he brought her back into his arms, snug and close, “I think I’ve already had too much to drink.”

              “Dinner then,” he offered, “We can grab a cab and go anywhere you want.”

              The offer was tempting as they danced together; she couldn’t avoid his soulful dark eyes or the mass of tousled black hair atop his head that invited her to comb her fingers through it. For a man approaching his mid-thirties, he barely looked a day over twenty-five. Only his eyes gave any hint of his maturity, a fact she’d originally fallen for in the first place.

              “I came here with a friend,” she reminded him, looking around for Jessica even as she said it, “let me tell her I’m leaving and we can get dinner.”