Page 2 of Bound To Me

I put my phone away, blushing. The train had arrived, and I had no idea how to respond to him. If he was real, I was in big trouble.

I walked out of the subway station, feeling my phone vibrating in my pocket. It was Michael.I don’t like waiting, SweetJackie.I decided to be brave; I had nothing to lose. I wrote back:Prove you’re real and I’ll beg on my knees for forgiveness.I can’t believe I just wrote that. But he’s not real—he can’t be. I have nothing to worry about.

My heart nearly leapt out of my chest when I saw a video request from him. I stood at the foot of the stairs leading up to my apartment.Fuck, I look like shit.

I hesitantly answered, and his face appeared on the screen.

“Hello, sweet Jackie. Is this enough proof for you?” He had an Irish accent and his eyes were a dark, deep gray. His face must have been chiseled by God himself.

“Um.” I smiled as I looked at my stunned face at the bottom of the screen. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

He gave me a quick smile. “So, when do I get to see you on your knees?”

Now

I pulled my heavy carry-on luggage behind me as I anxiously searched for my seat. After the call from Michael, I changed my number and quit my job. Getting a last minute ticket to LA was pricey, but I needed to get out of New York City; I had too many horrid memories that I’d never be able to escape. LA was the only other place I knew. I hadn’t been back since I boarded that Greyhound bus when I was seventeen. I didn’t know how much had changed in eleven years. Were east Hollywood and Silverlake still trendy? Was the valley still the porn capital of LA? Was Burbank, the place I lived for six years with my mom and dad, going to send me into a panic attack?

I found my seat towards the back of the plane and quickly made eye contact with an attractive man sitting directly next to mine. I looked away and kept my eyes on the floor; I was not in the mood to be ogling a gorgeous man like him. The last one I was with had tortured me, and I would never trust a beautiful exterior again. In fact, I hadn’t been with anyone since him. I didn’t think I’d ever be with anyone again, and I was okay with that.

I feebly lifted my carry-on to the only available space across from my seat. My cheeks burned with embarrassment as I struggled to push it into place.

“May I help?” a deep voice beside me asked.

I quickly glanced over to see the attractive seat neighbor. His light, kind eyes crinkled slightly at the corners as he smiled. His salt-and-pepper curly hair was gelled to the side.Great, and he’s older. Just my type.

“No, thanks. I got it.” I turned away, continuing to push my bag, out of breath. He stayed beside me as I strained, and I wanted to cry.I can’t fucking do anything myself.“Okay. I’ll take the help,” I finally said, holding up the bag to keep it in place.

I glanced over at him as he smiled and placed his hands next to mine, easily securing the bag in the overhead bin. I could see his muscles contracting beneath his long-sleeved T-shirt.

“Thank you.” I gave him a quick smile before looking down, waiting for him to move.

“No problem,” he replied, his deep, velvety voice stirring a wave of desire within me.

I watched his feet as he walked to the other side of the aisle and hesitated to move.I will not let myself become obsessive and controlled again. I will not give in.

I quickly looked up and saw Hot Nice Older Man settling into the window seat beside mine. I took a deep breath as I moved to my seat, feeling his gaze melt my insides.So fucking typical, Jackie.I hated that my harsh inner dialogue was narrated by Michael.

“You going to visit somewhere or heading back home?”

He was looking at me out of the corner of my eye. I wasn’t sure I could easily make small talk with someone so good-looking.

“I’m, uh, moving back home. To LA. From here,” I stammered, glancing at him briefly before looking at the back of the seat in front of me. An ad for the airline played silently on a small screen.

“Oh? How long have you lived here?” he asked, effortlessly drawing me into conversation.

I sighed. “Nine years.” I nodded and gave him a stiff smile, still struggling to make eye contact.

“I’m headed back home. I have family around here,” he offered, his tone friendly despite my short responses.

As the flight attendants began their safety demonstration, I focused intently ahead, hoping the gorgeous man would take the hint and stop talking. I didn’t want him to waste his breath on me.

“Where in LA are you from?” he asked, oblivious to my silent plea.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you’re very nice and just trying to make small talk during this long flight, but I’m in no shape to talk about myself,” I snapped, immediately regretting how I was speaking to Hot Nice Older Man.

I finally made eye contact with him for more than a second, and the unexpected warmth that spread through me was both hot and startling. I hadn’t felt this way about anyone since Michael. This was dangerous. His widened, sad eyes quickly looked away, and he nodded.

“I’m sorry. I understand.”

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