CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I read the email aloud and couldn’t remember a single word of it because, after he finished fucking me, he put his head between my legs. Finally, I gave up and just let him do as he liked.

Almost an hour later, he resurfaced for air and a glass of water. Drunk on sex, I wandered into the bathroom to wash up and came out with my hair in a messy bun and my plastic framed glasses on. He’d come back to bed, sitting propped on the pillows.

He gave a low whistle, patting his lap once. “Come here.”

I climbed aboard. “What? You have a glasses fetish or something?”

He ran his fingers up my neck, touching a flyaway curl. “No, you just look good. I like it…having you in my bed like this.”

My chest ached. His hand closed around my throat as he pulled me in, kissing my mouth. He still tasted like my pussy, sweet with a little tang. When he pulled back, he had that drunk expression in his eyes.

“Do you feel like you wasted your time then?”

“What?”

“You said earlier you should be working,” he said. “Do you think I made it worth your time?”

Our afternoon tangled up in his sheets flashed through my mind in graphic detail.

“Yeah,” I admitted.

His mouth jerked. “You want me to go back down?”

“No,” I said firmly. “I can’t come anymore. I need a break.”

His jaw worked as he glanced behind me at the TV mounted on the wall. “Want to pretend we’re normal and watch a movie together?”

I climbed off him, nestling against his side. “Sure, let’s see what Caden Payne likes to watch.”

He started working the TV off his phone, bringing up all his recently watched movies and shows. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but every single one of them was something to do with an ancient civilization. He swiped through dozens of documentaries and movies about ancient Rome, Greece, Egypt, and more. Finally, he got to the end and sighed.

“Probably not anything you’d want to watch,” he said.

“Let’s watch your favorite show,” I said.

His brow lifted. “Alright, you asked.”

He turned on a miniseries about ancient Greece that started with a graphic battle scene. I coiled up tight against his side, watching from the corner of my eye. His hand drifted down and slid between my thighs, resting up against my pussy, like he just enjoyed the warmth.

I watched him from the corner of my eye.

This felt so good.

Deep down, I’d doubted I’d ever feel anything this normal. My life up until meeting him was work during the day and going to parties that involved work at night. Oftentimes, I’d even spend weekend mornings at the country club so my father could network.

But this…neither of us got anything out of this other than pure enjoyment.

I pulled myself back to the present. The fight scenes had stopped, and now the main character was back home and getting it on with his wife in a tent. Dramatic moonlight pooled over them, which didn’t match the furious pace he was jackhammering. My brows rose, and I swung my gaze up to Caden.

“Are you uncomfortable?” he asked.

“After the places you put your tongue today, I don’t think I could be,” I said. “I’m just glad you’re more skilled than that guy.”

“I rearranged your guts,” he said, yawning. “I just have more precision. And I made sure you were wet.”

“He did kind of just skip that part,” I remarked.

“Maybe if I demonstrated—”

I gave him a look. “Caden, it’s a movie. I”m too sore to go again tonight.”

He kissed the side of my neck. “I could just lick it, make it feel better.”

“I’ve never met a man who liked eating pussy as much as you do,” I said.

His eyes narrowed. “How many other men have eaten your pussy?”

“Just my ex,” I admitted. “I only have one ex. But, you know, people talk.”

He sighed, sinking back. “I’ve slept with a fair amount of people, but I”ve been celibate for the last little while. I’m trying to…sort of get my head on straight. Get focused.”

That was enough for me. I didn’t need the graphic details of all the beautiful women he’d had in his bed over the years.

“Well, you’re good in bed,” I said, shifting the subject.

He paused the TV and flipped onto his stomach, resting his head in my lap. The action surprised me—it felt somehow more intimate than sex. Slowly, I reached down and smoothed back his hair.

“You’re good in bed too,” he said.

I didn’t reply. I was too distracted. There was a soft, warm sensation in my chest when I looked down at him, and it made me want to cry. I opened my mouth and shut it again. My fingers stroked through his hair, playing with it, running my touch over the tattoos on the side of his neck.

He cleared his throat.

“I’ve been staying at a friend’s house,” he said quietly.

My fingers faltered.

“Why?”

There was a short pause. “I…I had an incident where I got on my bike while I was asleep.”

My jaw dropped. “You drove a motorcycle in your sleep?”

He shifted onto his back, head still nestled in my lap. “Yeah, I turned the stove on. It was like everything you shouldn’t do, I did. So I’ve been staying at a friend’s and having them lock me in to make sure I don’t wander.”

“That’s scary.” That was an understatement, but I wasn’t sure what else to say.

He looked up at me, studying my face like he was hesitating. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Will you make sure I don’t wander tonight?”

My insides melted. For some reason, this was the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to me. He trusted me to keep him safe. Wordless, I nodded.

He got up and disappeared in the closet. I waited, confused. When he reappeared, he was carrying a pair of black leather handcuffs. My brows shot to my hairline.

“Um…what is that?”

The corner of his mouth jerked up. “Relax, it’s just to keep us together…at least this time.”

He knelt on the bed, taking my wrist and locking one cuff to me and the other to him. There was a foot of space between them, but he clearly didn’t intend to keep space between us, because he got into bed and pulled me down to lay against his chest.

I inhaled, dizzy. He smelled so good, I wanted to bury my face against his chest.

So I did, pressing against his warm skin. He felt the shudder move through my body, and his hand slid up, drawing my thigh around his waist. His chin rested on the top of my head.

“Go to sleep, butterfly,” he said quietly.

I swallowed the dry lump in my throat. “What are we doing?”

His voice was thick and sleepy. “That’s a problem for tomorrow.”

My eyes fluttered shut. He was right; I could deal with all the new, softer feelings coursing through my veins in the morning.

I woke up to no one at the other end of the handcuffs.

And the smell of bacon.

Sitting bolt upright, I blinked to bring the world into focus. She’d opened the shades, and early sunlight was spilling through. Faint golden rays split through the buildings down below. The bedroom door was ajar, and I could hear her in the kitchen. She was quiet, but her feet pattered on the floor and the espresso machine whirred.

She was making breakfast.

For the second time, someone was cooking for me. Was this what being domesticated felt like?

I pushed back the covers just as she walked in the room holding a tray, and my jaw dropped. She was gorgeous. All she wore was the t-shirt I’d discarded on the floor yesterday. Tangled waves were piled on her head, little bits falling around her shoulders.

My eyes ran over her body, eating up the sight of her bare thighs and the peaks of her nipples showing through my shirt. They rested on her big, plastic framed glasses, perched on the bridge of her nose.

God, this side of her made me rock hard.

The other sides did too, but there was just something about seeing her with her guard down that did things to me. Absently, I pried the handcuff off and pushed myself upright, sitting back against the pillow. She crossed the room and set the tray loaded with bacon, eggs, toast, and espresso on the bedside table.

I snatched her waist, pulling her onto my lap. Her soft thighs clenched as I took her gently by the throat and pulled her down for a kiss.

“You made me breakfast,” I said.

She shook her hair back, tilting her chin up. There was a hint of the combative Circe I’d gotten used to in her eyes.

“I’m hungry,” she said. “You fed me last night. Fair is fair.”

“I’m not complaining.” I ran my hand from her throat, down over her breasts. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

She flushed, struggling off my lap and tumbling to her side of the bed. “Let’s eat,” she said briskly.

I’d gone too far, let last night cloud my judgment, and now I’d made her uncomfortable. Casually, I set the tray between us and tried some of the espresso. Her brow arced, waiting on the verdict.

“Good, but not as good as my espressos,” I said.

She rolled her eyes. “Not likely.”

For a moment, I thought about telling her I’d learned to make good coffee at a café near my house growing up. The owner was a woman in her seventies who’d never had children. She saw me loitering in the street one day, and I told her why I didn’t want to go home. After that, she let me sit in her shop when school was over and do my homework.

She passed away six months after we met. For those six months, I had the best grades I’d ever had.

It just went to show how much someone giving a fuck would have made a difference.

I glanced up, feeling her eyes on me. My chest tightened.

Circe Johansen, the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in the States, was in my bed, and it made no sense. And yet, I’d told her all those unsavory things about myself, and here she was, making me breakfast after we’d slept handcuffed together.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Nothing. Are you working this morning?”

She nodded, taking a piece of bacon and nibbling on it. “I’ll get ready here and go to the high rise. I can’t afford to lose more work time. This mission is taking a lot of time away from my regular tasks.”

“Surely the COO of Johansen Enterprises can do what she wants,” I said.

She bit her lip, working it. “You would think.”

“You can’t?”

“My father has high expectations,” she said flatly. “He’s giving me responsibility over the thing that he cares about the most. I have to respect that.”

I emptied my espresso cup and set it aside. “And he cares about this…more than you?”

She lifted her chin. “I’m not a thing.”

I was tempted to make a comment about how she liked being treated like an object under the right circumstances, but I bit my tongue. Not every raw emotion needed to be deflected with humor.

Sometimes, it needed to be laid out and just…sat with. That was an uncomfortable truth I’d learned in the last few years of trying to clean my life up.

Deflection was the enemy of healing.

“No,” I said. “You’re not.”

Her eyes stayed on me as she bit into her toast. I ate quickly, knowing I needed to be at the training center soon. She was still eating when I was done, so I went to shower. Halfway through, the door opened, and she slipped into the steamy space.

My stomach flipped.

Her hands slid around my neck. Right away, I was rock hard and lifting her in my arms, pressing her to the wall and reaching down to slide myself inside her pussy. There was the strangest ache in my chest as I fucked her, and I’d lost the urge to be rough.

I wanted to be so fucking gentle with her, even though it felt dangerous.

My hips worked as she buried her face into my neck. I made her come, and when I was finished, she kissed me, but she didn’t meet my eyes as she got dressed for work. Then we went down to the back parking lot, and I opened her door and helped her in.

Her hands gripped the wheel as she glanced up through her lashes.

“Bye,” she said. “Back to being co-workers.”

I didn’t say anything, but that word really got me. It wasn’t wrong; we were two people working alongside each other. But after the things we’d done last night, co-worker felt laughable.

A little broken, I took the Kawasaki to the training center. Yale was already gone, so it was just me and my first class. Numbly, I moved through the motions. In the shooting range, I stayed back and let the upperclassmen work with the younger men. It wasn’t like me to skimp on training. But truthfully, my social battery was low.

Maybe just dead.

I felt dirty, so I showered again. Then, I was halfway through putting my clothes on when the compulsion to shower again hit me. This time, I couldn’t resist it, and I found myself scrubbing my skin raw under uncomfortably hot water.

My head spun. I hated this, hated being this way.

I wanted out of this body, out of this mind that tortured me.

But the only path to relief was a hard one. I needed to keep my promise to Gretchen and fill out the evaluation. My brain knew that, but the other part of me just couldn’t make myself do it.

Head fucked up and skin tingling, I forced myself out of the shower and pulled my clothes on without drying. I needed to get out of here, or I’d be stuck scrubbing myself for the next few hours.

Trying to wash away all my imperfections until my skin bled.

Heart thudding, I grabbed my things and strode down the hall and out of the training center. I needed her again, but I couldn’t do that. If I could have my way, I’d go to her office and take her away. I’d rent a hotel far away where no one could find us, and we’d stay in bed for days, just fucking and talking and eating.

She was the only person who made my brain quiet, who centered my system that was stuck in fight or flight.

She was the stillness in the eye of my hurricane, as soft and clear as an early morning, standing on stone steps, watching incense rise to the sky.

But she wasn’t mine.

So, I drove until I ran out of road. Merrick had a chain of hotels that were being built along the coast. I took the Kawasaki out to one of the construction sites I knew would be empty today. The path wound up the mountains and ended at a flat, stone foundation that overlooked the sea.

There, I lit a cigarette and sank down to let my legs hang over the edge.

It was late when I stood up, body stiff, and went home.