Bound to You (19 page)

“Most people love Saturdays,” Sophie said as I drove us into Phoenix. “The sleeping in. The trips out and about. But, to be honest, I loathe weekends with a passion as powerful as a comb-over held down with crazy glue.”

I chuckled. With such nice weather, I decided to take her out in my Bentley convertible. After I'd found her in the one place where I tried to bury and burn all my skeletons, the breeze and the open sky were welcome. Last night hadn't gone as I'd planned. What should have been a romantic evening had ended with us sleeping in one of the spare bedrooms.

I had to make it up to her today.

“Everyone plans activities on the weekends. Before Jesse helped me, I worked hours that were subhuman. You wouldn't believe the requests I've had.” Sophie might've been venting, but she looked relaxed in a red sundress that ended at her upper thighs. Her gorgeous legs were stretched out. If she had any thoughts about finding Rosalie's picture, she kept them to herself.

“Condoms?” I tried.

“Oh, that's the kind of request the
nice
ones make. One guy wanted me to buy lingerie for his mistress—but he wanted me to try it on first.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I'd stretch out and destroy anything that's under size 4, but honestly I'd drop any man who wanted me to wear undies some other gal had tried on first.” She shuddered at the thought. “This is a lesson for you. I like stuff that's brand-new.”

“Brand-new,” I echoed. Everything I had planned for Sophie would be top of the line and directly from the manufacturer. A few phone calls on the plane here from Boston had set everything in motion.

“So where are we going?” she asked.

“To see a painting.” Ever since the opera, I'd wanted her to see the painting that reminded me of her. There was something about Sophie's profile that constantly ran through my mind every time I thought about it.

Our final destination was the Phoenix Art Museum. As expected, Ian had made arrangements for our private showing.

“This should be fun.” Her eyes brightened considerably.

The largest art museum in the southwestern U.S. beckoned us inside. I took her hand and we walked into the lobby to meet our guide.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Quinn,” said a young man whose name tag read
ANATOLY
. “You're right on time.”

“As always,” Sophie quipped from beside me.

“Beauty never waits,” I said.

Anatoly gave us a tour of the general exhibit, showing us pieces from Degas to Renoir. Sophie showed a bit of interest, but her face lit up when Anatoly brought us to a private room. Chilled champagne had been left for us, along with the particular painting I wanted her to see: Gustav Klimt's
Water Serpents
.

She passed the table and went straight to the painting. “Amazing. It's much smaller in person than I'd expected. After you told me about it, I looked it up online, but it's breathtaking up close. With those golden hues and lush backgrounds, those two figures look ethereal.”

I took her hand and drew her to the table. As expected, our tour guide had left us behind and closed the double doors to the room.

Then she looked at the closed doors. “Did he just leave us alone with a
priceless
painting?”

I poured two glasses for us. “I'm the one who paid for this museum to borrow it from the one in Austria. You could say I have an agreement with the foundation that countless lawyers have read and signed.”

“For one private viewing?” She tilted her head with a smile as I offered her a glass.

“For one viewing
with you
. I'd do anything for you, Sophie.”

That made her blush. She turned toward the painting. “I don't know. The nymph at the top holding the other one is far prettier than me. She's got a fish's tail, too. Guys like that?”

I downed my champagne, enjoying the smooth, crisp flavor across my tongue. “I didn't say you looked exactly like her. You remind me of her.”

She took a sip as I drew her in front of me. I wrapped my arms around her waist. Just feeling her close to me set me at ease. If I could keep holding her like this all day, I would. She leaned back and I placed my mouth against the strong pulse point at her neck. She was here in the present and I wanted to spend every moment with her until she agreed to stay with me.

We stared at the painting for a bit. Sophie must've grown restless. Her right hand continued to hold her glass while her left reached behind her to run down my thigh. When she drew her hand behind her, she deftly brushed near my hardening length. So teasingly close.

“Why does she remind you of me?” she breathed.

“Look at her face,” I said close to her ear. “The parted lips. The eyes closed as if she's about to come.”

“Maybe she's dreaming.” She sucked in a breath when my hips pushed forward.

I ran my hands down her hips, then back up to her breasts. “Could be…Look at her breast. Klimt made it perfectly shaped. The nipple wonderfully pert.” My fingertips drew circles over her nipples until they pebbled.

She moaned when I squeezed and kneaded her breasts. “I actually like
The Kiss
more than this one. Now that painting was amazing.”

I stopped to chuckle against her neck. “Forever the romantic.”

I turned her around to capture her lips. Her kiss was slow. Deliberately sensual as she clutched me around the neck. My body came alive from her touch. I wanted her so badly. To feel her. To touch her. To make her mine so that she'd never consider leaving.

My hands gripped her ass, cupping and molding until she groaned into my mouth. She had to feel my need to be inside her rising higher.

She broke us apart to slyly grin at me. “You want me?” She was trying to sound serious and failed. “Right now? In front of this painting?”

I tugged her closer until her sundress hiked up and her legs wrapped around my waist. “Oh, hell yes.”

But instead of pulling her dress over her head and bending her over the tiny table to take her hard and fast, my head dipped so that I could draw my lips across her pulse point. She shivered from my touch.

“Sophie,” I murmured. Her thick hair smelled so good.

Our lips met again, the sensation delicious and dizzying in intensity.

“Please…” she whispered against my lips. That familiar begging that drove me wild. I kissed her lips again, determined to stretch out her pleasure. She loved to wait and I was willing to give her what she needed.

I drew my tongue across her lips. They were lush and sweet. Her mouth opened and my tongue brushed against hers. The pleasure was intense.

“Feel good?” I asked.

Our gazes locked and I watched her beautiful shudder. “Xavier.”

Gently, I sat her down and we made quick work of discarding each other's clothes. My shirt was tossed away to suck and flick at nipples. There were no gentle sucks from me this time. If she wouldn't wear my cuffs, I'd mark my territory in other ways—by briefly sucking hard on the soft, sensitive skin below her nipple.

Next her panties. I ripped those off so that I could fall to my knees to worship what lay between her thighs. She squirmed against me, clutching my hair while I nibbled and sucked on her clit. When she got close to coming, I backed off, only to come back again to taste her.

“When can you come?” I asked her.

“When you let me,” she cried out.

A few hickeys on her inner thighs would be sore reminders in the morning that I was the one who did this.

I was the one who watched her back arch while she finally climaxed with my tongue spearing into her slick heat. She belonged to me and only me.

After I put on a condom, I was the one who shoved the champagne serving aside to bend her over the table. She gripped the table hard, looking back at me while I fucked her. The table shook with each thrust. Just watching her cry out was so hot. Awash in pleasure, all I could do was hold on to her while her pussy clenched my shaft. Sweet heaven, the pleasure was mind-numbing. A grumble formed in my chest, increasing in intensity as my balls hardened painfully.

“I'm coming, sweetheart,” I grunted. My body stiffened, every nerve ending in my cock exploding as I reached my climax. It took me a bit of time to find my senses, but once I did, I continued to hold her in my arms. Each breath she took calmed me and reassured me she was here and if I didn't let her go she'd stay with me forever.

“You all right?” I asked her. She smiled at me and kissed my chin.

She looked at the champagne service on the floor and laughed. “That was…insane.”

I drew my hands into her messy hair, pulling it back and out of her face. Her features had softened and her lips were bright and pink.

“Damn, you're so fucking beautiful,” I whispered.

Instead of making a joke to brush off my compliment, she averted her eyes and smiled.

Gently, I took her hand and kissed the palm, then the delectable skin at her pulse point. The skin thrummed there from her racing heart. Sato's wrist cuffs were gone now, but a part of me wanted her to wear the ones I gave her. Whether she wore them or not, it was Sophie I wanted. It was her I cared about.

“I have to go to the bathroom to freshen up. I'll be back.” She put on her dress and left the room.

I found my clothes and got dressed. When Sophie emerged from the bathroom, I followed her out to the lobby. Even though this outing had gone well, I sensed doubts swimming around that pretty head of hers.

My time was running out.

“Are you sure you want to tangle with a pro like me?” I asked Sophie.

It was Sunday. My last day to show her how much I wanted her to stay with me.

We stood outside the Carefree Cow Ice Cream Shop, a place I used to frequent as a student back in college at Arizona State University.

Back then, after every meet, I came here to face an adversary I never beat: the Fifteen-Scoop Challenge.

A few athletes joined me in my quest, but naturally, the coaching staff wasn't aware of attempts to down a few days' worth of calories in one shot.

At my side, Sophie's eyes shined with glee. “You're a pro at eating contests?”

“Not the contest, but the competition. I like to make wagers, too,” I said with grin. “If I win the challenge, you stay here with me, no questions asked—”

She gave a cute snort. “I stay if you win an eating contest? Is that the best you can do to convince me?”

Then she laughed, and I resisted the urge to kiss her lips, to pull her close to me. Like yesterday, she wore casual clothes, a pair of jeans that revealed every curve and a blouse with an opening near her breasts that tempted me every time she sat next to me.

The fact that this weekend would come to an end soon bothered me constantly. Would we still be able to be together—like this—after she found out what I had planned for her?

Sophie led the way into the ice cream shop with a wry grin. Did she know something I didn't about the challenge? “Don't think that just because we're eating a heavy lunch I'll carry you out of here.”

I chuckled as I took in the place. So many memories here with old college friends. The Carefree Cow, with its rustic-decor theme, had plenty of dark red seats for the busy crowds when students filled the nearby Tempe campus. At this time of the year, though, not as many students frequented campus so we could sit anywhere we wanted.

“Priceless paintings one day and an ice cream parlor the next. You're a worldly man, Mr. Quinn,” she threw over her shoulder.

“There's so much more I'd love to show you.”
So many more things, sweetheart.

Sophie pointed to the far wall, where there was a bulletin board filled with Polaroid shots. “There's the Wall of Shame where your picture will be.” She gestured to another wall with a board labeled
VICTORY LANE
. “And that's where my lovely photo will be displayed for posterity. May the Ashton name live on.”

I held in a laugh.
She had no idea that my photo was already there…
“In infamy for overeating?”

She shoved my shoulder for good measure.

At the ordering counter, she asked for two helpings of the Fifteen-Scoop Challenge. Casually, I took her hand after she ordered. Her fingers intertwined with mine and the warmth from her palm spread through me. A man could get used to this pleasant feeling.

“Don't think you can distract me from winning,” she whispered. “I have nerves made of Rocky Road.”

I took in the types of ice cream, sensing that she wasn't facing me, yet our hands continued to stay connected. After the manager set everything up, we sat down at one of the tables.

“The rules are simple, folks,” the manager explained. “You get one hour to eat fifteen scoops of ice cream covered in whipped cream, nuts, and sauces.”

While the manager continued to speak, I patted my flat belly. Even back when I was in college, that huge bowl of ice cream had been intimidating, but one look at Sophie's face and I knew a poker face was essential to winning this game. I'd show her how driven I was for her to stay.

“The winner gets a T-shirt and a free meal. The loser gets to pay for everything.”

We both nodded. Sophie pointed two fingers at her eyes and then gestured to mine. She could watch me all she wanted. Cheating at this particular contest would be near to impossible unless I was hiding a refrigerated container somewhere.

The countdown started and then we were off. I tackled the ice cream first, 'cause I had a plan: eat the firmer ice cream and then inhale the whipped cream closer to the end. The cherries disappeared quickly, as well as the spoonfuls of nuts sprinkled on top. Not long into the challenge, I was close to dying from brain freeze.

“I can tell you're getting full,” Sophie said through a mouthful of strawberry. “Just give up now and I'll be merciful.”