Page 6 of Never Bound

He took one praline and bit into it. I watched him chew, his face melting as if the clouds had just parted on paradise itself. He ate four more. Then five, then six, all with the kind of look on his face that had me thinking I should be paying ninety-nine cents a minute to watch it. When he paused, his half-smile was teasing but not entirely.

“So what’s the catch, really, Lou?” he finally asked, stretching his body out artfully and spectacularly across the bed, balancing on one long, lean, muscular arm, the other still holding the box of pralines. “What do I have to do in return?”

“Like I said, anything.” I swallowed. “Or nothing.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Can this anything or nothing be cashed in anytime?” he asked casually, though his eyes raked me up and down like he was scanning an entire dessert menu.

“You mean like a time where it doesn’t have to be muffled by a pillow?” I flushed hotter than I had been already. “But—” I paused.

“Wow, a choice. That’s like Freedom 101.”

“Wow, a course I could teach you?” I teased.

“Only if there’s a practical exam—I excel at hands-on learning.”

He just left it there, damn him, chewing his lip cheekily like he was curious to see how I’d react. Hell,Iwas curious to see how I’d react. How far I was willing to go to be close to him. And God, if he kept looking at me like that, that was pretty fucking far.

In fact, my stupid, self-sabotaging heart was already picking up, his words sizzling through me like live wire. We were so close, yet still so far from anything resembling the reality we deserved. But for now, we had a moment, and it felt so wicked and wrong and perfect and right, all at once. So nonsensical, and yet as logical as the simplest chemical formula. Kind of like everything else about us.

I moved closer to him, the heat of his body against mine, his scent filling my nostrils—sage and sun and soap and pure pheromones.

I whispered, “Do you really want to cash it in now?”

He turned his head so our mouths were mere centimeters apart, tracing one calloused finger—a finger whose touch I could feel on me already—along a stitch in the pristine, silken white duvet. The look in his eyes was enough to singe every thought from my mind and plunge me into some kind of full-body ache I couldn’t possibly be expected to resist. “I think you know the answer to that,professeur.”

And now I was dead.Here lies Louisa Danielle Wainwright-Phillips. Killed by one word of French.

Granted, I didn’t know how much a corpse weighed, but I’d never felt so light as his kisses started, playful and teasing in a way that saidI so want to do thisbut with a hard undertone that said butwe shouldn’t. I knew because I felt it myself. My body twisted wildly beneath him, trying vainly to get closer,andto pull away. But before I knew what was happening, he growled low in his throat and pinned my wrists above my head with the kind of strength I knew he had but had yet to feel, his hand sinking into my hair and pulling roughly. I arched again as he used his free hand to slide up my denim miniskirt and between my legs, pressing two fingers into me and eliciting a small gasp from the back of my throat that I forgot to muffle.

I couldn’t make that mistake again. But despite everything, despite the hour—and fuck, I couldstillsee the clock from where I was—this was what I had craved. What I had ached for.Hewas what I ached for, and I’d do anything to have him and keep him, even if it was just for a moment.

He continued to work his fingers inside me. “You know,” he observed, “I’m no expert on this, but it kind of feels like you want this just as bad as I do.”

“Shut up. You aresoan expert on this.”

“I know, but I was trying to be modest.”

“You failed.”

“Only thing I’ve ever failed at.”

“God,” I panted, biting my bottom lip to stifle another moan. If he were anyone else—anything else—I’d be saying his name right now. “Fuck, what the hell am I supposed to—”

Suddenly, we froze. He raised his head, the flush in his cheeks so sexy. Voices drifted up the stairwell. Soft footsteps came from the foyer below. The front door shut with a definite click.

“Shit!” I hissed, pushing him off me none too gently, my arms suspended like a cat on her back with paws in the air. Granted, no one in this house had any reason—yet—to burst into my room demanding to know what we were doing or even care, but—well, I cared. A lot. And given his frantic efforts to keep me still, so did he.

“It’s probably just a delivery or something,” he said, catching his breath next to me, though I noticed his strong shoulders rising up and down more rapidly than normal. “Relax.”

“Delivery or not, we can’t take that chance,” I whispered, scooching off the bed and tugging my skirt down, sighing with a mix of relief and frustration—and bodily need so intense it felt like it was trying to burn me from the inside out.

I managed to get up without making too much noise. But before I could, he grabbed my hips aggressively and pulled me toward him.

“Are you insane?” I asked, trying and failing to keep from shrieking.

“That is one of the many things I’ve been called in my time,” he admitted with a slight laugh.

“Someone nearly heard us! We could get caught!” I hissed, batting his arm.

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