London Bound (18 page)

And it terrified her to the point she couldn’t quite breathe. For so many reasons, and she didn’t want to examine those. Couldn’t, because it would break her. She just wanted, needed to be here with Nathan. The rest of it—the feelings, the consequences of falling for a guy she couldn’t have—she’d deal with that when the time came. She visualized stuffing all those emotions into a box and chucking it into a dark corner—not that it worked or anything, but she could pretend. She could ignore. And she could distract herself. Lose herself in what was
right now
.

Slowly, she sat up, and Nathan glanced at her as he let his hand fall to her shoulder. She pushed to her feet and shivered as his fingers traced down her arm and tangled with hers a moment, preventing her from moving away.

“You all right?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, smiling and fighting the urge shove aside his work and climb into his lap.

Tugging her hand free, she made her way into the bedroom and walked to the bedside table. Trembling, she opened the drawer and drew out what she was after then—before she could second guess or question herself—hurried back into the living room. Full-on tremors worked through her body as she stepped in front of Nathan and knelt, lifting both hands toward him—her collar resting on her upturned palms.

His eyes widened just a bit, and she didn’t miss the way his gaze darted toward the clock before settling on her. Before he could say anything, she rushed to speak, to explain.

“I know it’s late, and you have a lot of work to do. You’re preparing for your meeting, and I know how important that is. And you don’t have time for...me and taking care of me,” she said with an awkward laugh. “I’m not asking for sex or a scene or...whatever. I don’t need that, right now. I don’t need you to take time away from what you’re doing, I swear. I just...I just—”

He brought his hand to her face and pressed his thumb to her mouth, stopping her nervous stream of words. “What do you need?”

“To remember.” She breathed the words against his skin as desperation clutched at her. “Please, I need to be reminded.”

His eyes darkened, and he set the file on the arm of the sofa, focused completely on her, now. And, as simple as that gesture was, it calmed her, a soothing balm over the riot in her head.

“What do you need to remember?” he asked, moving his hand to trace along her collarbone.

“That...” She dampened her lips and leaned into his touch. “That I belong to you.”

For now
, her traitorous mind added.

Nathan stared at her for what seemed like hours before he took the collar from her shaking hands. “Lift your hair.”

Meg obeyed, baring her neck to him. He leaned close, his scent and heat surrounding her, as he reached around to clasp the collar into place. She closed her eyes and sighed as the band settled against her skin, cool at first then slowly warming, matching her body temperature, becoming a part of her.

She lifted heavy lids when he cupped her face and tilted it up. Her stomach flipped at the intense heat in his gaze. His thumbs stroked over her cheeks, and he leaned down until theirs lips nearly touched.

“No matter what is happening,” he murmured, “I always have time for you, love. To take care of you and make sure you have what you need. Because,” he closed the space between them, brushed a barely-there kiss on her mouth, “you are mine.”

Swallowing audibly, she fought to keep her eyes open and on his. “I’m yours.”

“Good girl.” Another fleeting kiss.

Without another word, he helped her up. She resumed her previous position—curled up beside him, head on his lap, again. Nathan pulled the throw from the back of the sofa and draped it over her before turning back to his work.

Meg let herself drift, hands beneath her chin, one finger hooked around the silver ring adorning the collar. She felt as if she were floating in that warm, content space between wakefulness and sleep, but she was hyper-aware of the leather at her throat, Nathan’s heat, his gently stroking fingers on her head.

When his touch moved to the back of her neck and he wiggled his fingers between her skin and the collar, she couldn’t hold back the whimper, didn’t even try. Her eyes rolled back at the slight pull, and she nestled against him happily.

Then, both his hands were there, one smoothing her hair back from her face while the other continued to tease her with gentle touches then tugs on the simple strap of leather that visibly marked her as his.

“If I could get out of this meeting tomorrow, I would.”

“‘S’okay.” She turned her head slightly to kiss him above his knee, his answering chuckle pushing her do it again.

“But after that, no more work.” His firm lips rested on her temple a long moment. “I’ve taken the rest of the time you’re here off.”

“Really?”

A part of her—a miniscule part that seemed miles away—thought she should protest, as it was a reminder that this wasn’t going to last. But she ignored that and let herself smile broadly, because more time with Nathan was definitely something to smile about.

“Really,” he confirmed. “Now, let’s get ready for bed.”

She stretched with a sleepy groan but didn’t make a move to get up.

“Come along.” He laughed as he maneuvered her so they could both stand. “You need to rest up, love, because after tomorrow, my focus is going to be one-hundred percent on you. No distractions.”

Her belly clenched at the promise in his low voice.

* * * * *

M
eg dragged in breath after breath, tried to fill her lungs with air. Her chest burned with each hard-won inhale and exhale, and her heart raced. She stared up the ceiling, tried to focus on Nathan’s hands on her body. Reached for the feeling, the headspace she so desperately wanted, needed, and it danced just out of reach.

Suddenly, Nathan straddled her waist, and she choked back a groan as his bare skin slid over hers. He grasped her chin, his grip gentle, not punishing as he forced her to meet his gaze.

“Breathe,” he instructed calmly. “In and out. In and out. That’s it, darling girl.”

“S-s-sorry,” she muttered, blinking back tears.

“What’s going on, love?” He skimmed his palm up her arm, leaving a wake of goosebumps, then wrapped his fingers loosely around her wrists. Her bound wrists. “Is this too much?”

She shook her head frantically, not wanting this to stop. “I’m all right. I’m green.”

He narrowed his eyes, frowning down at her. “Meg, you had a panic attack.”

When he moved to release her, she bucked as much as she could until he looked at her in exasperation.

“I’m green,” she said emphatically. “I’m telling you, right now, I’m green. It’s not the... It’s not being tied up that...caused that.”

“What did?” he asked, his voice sharp and echoing through the room.

“It’s nothing. Nothing for you to worry about, promise. Just touch me, again.”

“No.”

Meg jerked back against the pillow beneath her. “No?”

“I said no,” he said slowly. “Who do you belong to, Meg?”

“You,” she responded with no hesitation.

“As happy as it makes me happy you remember that...” His low voice was deceptively casual, light, but Meg heard—hell, she practically
felt
—the hint of hardness underneath it all. “What I can’t figure out is when belonging to me meant you told me what I do or do not worry about.”

“It...it doesn’t?” She cringed at her questioning tone but fought the urge to turn away, knowing without being told he wanted her to keep her gaze on him.

“No, it doesn’t. And, in case it wasn’t completely clear, belonging to me
definitely
does
not
involve you giving me orders.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t want sorry, Meg. We’ll talk about all of that later,” he promised darkly. “For now, you’re going to tell me what is going on.”

She tugged at the silken rope that held her fast to the headboard. “Could you untie me first? That’s a question, not an order or anything like an order.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Are the ropes hurting you, causing you discomfort?”

“Other than the discomfort of being laid out and tied up while we’re apparently having a heart to heart?” When he just lifted a brow, she sighed. “No. Physically, I’m feeling no discomfort, Sir.”

“Good. Now, tell me.”

Her face heated, and she racked her mind, trying to figure out a way to be honest with him—because he’d know, somehow—without baring everything to him. He saw way too much as it was.

“I was just thinking. Obsessing over things instead of focusing on this.” She squirmed so her sides rubbed against his inner thighs.

“This was more than just being distracted,” he said, shifting his knees more tightly against her, stopping her movements while still keeping the bulk of his weight off of her. “Being a bit distracted during sex doesn’t usually trigger a panic attack, does it?”

“It was more than a bit distracted,” she snapped. “I couldn’t stop thinking, okay? Thought after stupid thought jumping around in my head for days, and all I wanted was to stop thinking, to just be...to just be here, with you, because it’s ending. And I couldn’t. I couldn’t get there. I couldn’t turn it off, and I panicked. ”

She clamped her mouth shut, realizing by the end, she was practically shouting up at him. He didn’t look upset, though. If anything, the sternness bled out of his expression, replaced by something softer, unreadable.

“Sweet girl.” He bent down and kissed her. “You don’t have to hold all that in. You can talk to me.”

“Not about this,” she protested. “Talking about leaving, about going home just makes it more real.” She closed her eyes a moment and took a deep breath before meeting his gaze. “I know it’s almost over. That was the deal from the start, right? But this vacation, the time with you it means something to me, and the end of that, even though I knew all along it was coming, still hurts. And I don’t want the last days I have with you to be spent hurting and freaking out.”

His lips parted as if he was about to speak, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he sighed and brought his forehead to hers, pressing as he shifted his body, moving between her legs. Meg tried to wrap them around him, pull him against her, but Nathan laughed softly, hardly more than a gust of air across her face, then pulled away. Straightening, he widened his knees, spreading her thighs as he held her hips down with a firm grip.

“Stay still,” he ordered then ran his hands slowly along her thighs, over her bent knees, down to circle her ankles. “Just like this.”

Feet flat against the mattress, Meg curled her toes into the soft covers beneath them, staring at him, waiting for him to make his next move. She didn’t have to wait long. He was over her again, braced on an elbow beside her head, staring down at her intensely. Bringing his free hand up to his mouth, he licked a broad stripe from his palm to the tips of his fingers. Meg’s pussy clenched, ached with the emptiness at the sight of his tongue flicking around the digits.

He reached between their bodies and pushed spit-slick fingers roughly through her folds. Meg groaned and let her eyes drift closed, trying to focus on that point of contact, on Nathan’s talented touch pulling her where she needed to be.

“Ah ah, ah.” He tapped her clit, hard enough to make her cry out as the pain slid into pleasure. “Eyes open, on me. Keep them on me, love.”

When their gazes reconnected, he smiled and began rubbing and teasing again, skirting around her clit, never dipping inside her. Meg struggled to lie still, as he’d instructed, but she couldn’t stop the tremors that overtook her, and soon, she was fairly vibrating beneath him.

“Where are you, Meg? Who are you with?” he murmured.

“I’m here,” she gasped. “With you. I’m with you.”

“Yes, you are.” He shoved two fingers into her pussy. “And that’s all that matters, right now.” Fucking into her roughly, he took her mouth, tongue sweeping inside, claiming her. “Isn’t it?” he demanded as he broke away.

She nodded, unable to speak as heat and need coiled so tightly inside her she thought she’d explode. And he knew it. Of course, he knew it. He knew
exactly
how to touch her, how to handle her, what to say to get her where she needed to be.

He crooked his fingers, zeroing in on and rubbing her G-spot relentlessly. He pushed back, balancing his weight on his knees. When he hooked the fingers of his other hand around the collar at her neck, his knuckles dragging over her skin, Meg bit her lip hard, trying to stop the threatening orgasm.

“Please.” Her arms ached as she pulled against her bonds, waiting so badly to touch, to hold onto him.

“Please what?”

“Please let me... Can I... Oh, God, I need...” She wiggled her hips, and she wasn’t even sure if she was trying to fall into the release or edge away from it.

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that had her stomach jumping. She didn’t know if it meant he’d let her come or if he’d deny her, and it didn’t matter. Not really. Because she trusted him, she was his, and he would give her what she needed.

He pulled on the collar, a quick tug. “You need to do better than that, love. Go on.” Another tug. “Ask me for it.”

“Please...may...I...come? Please, Sir. Please, please, pleeeeeese.” She kept mouthing the word—anything to keep from falling before he gave her permission.

He let go of the leather, lifted his hand, and traced a finger down her cheek. “So fucking pretty when you beg. I could watch this, listen to you, all night long. But,” he circled her clit with his thumb, dragging her slick juices around the pulsing nub, “you’re even more gorgeous when you come for me.”

Meg gulped, breathless again, but not from panic, this time. Arousal, anticipation, desire to please Nathan—all of that overcame any lingering nerves that may have hidden inside of her.

“So...come for me.”

His voice, quiet yet commanding, swept over her, pushed her over the edge. Her muscles clamped down around his thrusting fingers, and the wet sound of her release coating his hand as she came and came and
came
filled Meg’s senses
.
The thought of marking him, even in this basic way, as he’d marked her in so many ways—visible and invisible—filled her with satisfaction.