In the Bedroom with the Rope: Tied in Knots (2 page)

Pulling on a denim shirt to hide his scarred shoulder, he ran a hand through his still damp hair, just as the doorbell rang. Too little sleep and too much testosterone had done nothing for his physical appearance. Plus, he hadn’t shaved in a while. No point when he wasn’t going out. He probably looked like a steaming bucket of ass, but he hadn’t been expecting company. Nothing for it now but to see what was up.

Fixing a welcoming smile on his face he opened the door and got his first close up look at Samantha Jacobs in the flesh.

 He’d long ago memorized every detail of her life, or at least those on record. The photos hadn’t done her justice. Sure, her peaches and cream complexion, the big blue eyes, sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose all looked the same, but a still couldn’t capture the flash of intelligence in those eyes, the way she licked her full lips. What a fucking waste, a smart, beautiful woman like that tying herself to a throwback like Gibbons.

Tamping down his desire and the irrational surge of anger when he imagined that Neanderthal’s hands on her, Trevor asked, “Can I help you?”

Their eyes met and held. His heart sped up until blood pounded in his ears. Her lips parted, but she didn’t say anything, just stared up at him unblinkingly. Whatever she’d been so determined to say to him had drowned in the current of sizzling attraction that charged the air around them.

A neighbor on the other side beeped open a minivan. She jumped, breaking the spell. Red crept into her cheeks as she watched the mom load three kids and a small white dog into the vehicle. Trevor took the opportunity to study her up close.

Her body was lush, curvy, that of a real woman, not a surgically enhanced doll. Her hips were wide, perfect for a man to grip and hold onto while she rode him. And those full breasts practically spilling out of her red tank top would jiggle with every thrust.

Though he’d just come not even an hour earlier, his cock throbbed painfully against his jeans. Christ, she even smelled amazing, sweet and hot like vanilla cupcakes. What would she taste like?

“Do you want to come in? I have coffee.” His kitchen was bare otherwise, but she didn’t need to know that. This was so wrong—the
last
thing he should do was invite her into his house. But the devil in his mind prompted the thought, what better way to keep an eye on her than have her naked in his bed, not just in his mind?

She shook her head. “No, I…just needed to tell you something.”

He waited for her to continue. When she didn’t he shifted his weight. “Miss…?”

She started, as though he’d poked her in the belly. Her hand came up, extended. “Sorry, I’m Samantha. Samantha Jacobs. I live across the street.” She pointed to the house.

Slowly, he clasped his hand around hers. God, her skin was soft, like silk, but warm and pliant to the touch. Her fingers were long, graceful. Searching the file he had on her in his mind, he scanned all the archived data, wondering if she’d ever taken piano lessons.

“Trevor Harrison,” his voice sounded thick and rough in his own ears. “You sure I can’t get you anything? Coffee, water…?” Sexual satisfaction?

He’d dared not say the last though. The woman had been tied up and left for dead by her former lover and the last thing Trevor wanted to do was intimidate her in any way. They were never supposed to meet, and yeah, so maybe he’d danced over the line of propriety when he’d fantasized about her while taking care of his morning boner, but that was still no contact. He never would have made a move to approach her unless her life was in danger.

But now that she stood before him, her small hand lost in his, he couldn’t stop the images that sprang to mind. Of what he wanted to do to her lush body.

Retrieving her hand from his huge paw, she blushed prettily. “I um, just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

“Thanks.” He was no body language expert, but Trevor was pretty sure she was lying. Though why she would, he couldn’t imagine.
She shifted from foot to foot. “So, are you renting or did you buy?”

Could this conversation be any more stilted? What was she, a nark for the homeowner’s association? “Renting right now. I’ve had some upheaval in my life lately, especially at work.” Big frigging understatement. He was still on medical leave after being plugged in the shoulder by her ex’s .38.

She nodded. “I know what you mean. I just moved here six months ago. It’s been a nice change. Peaceful. I especially like the community nature trails. I jog early in the morning—” Cutting herself off, her face flushed crimson, so alluring next to her long dark hair.

God, she was pretty. Small and feminine, she aroused every male instinct he possessed. Trevor could easily stare at her all day; listen to her soft voice as she talked about everything and nothing all at once.

Well maybe not easily. Already he was tempted to pull her into the house, press her against the wall and kiss the living hell out of her. Through the haze of lust he realized she had asked him something.

“Could you repeat that?”

Her face was still red and she wouldn’t meet his gaze again. “Will you be at community day on Friday?”

He’d rather stick a hot poker in his eye than hobnob with the locals, but for some reason, he found himself nodding. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

She shuffled her feet, glanced down at the cell phone in her hand. “I need to get going, I’ll be late for work.”

“Where do you work?”

She looked startled by his interest and he cursed under his breath. Shit, this was tough, making everything out to be a natural question when the conversation was far from organic. He knew all the answers, had spent months studying her habits. “Sorry. I’m a detective, we’re nosy by nature.”

“You’re a cop?” She looked hopeful.

Trevor nodded, “A detective, actually.” It had been a calculated risk, telling her that, but he wanted her to feel safe, to know she could trust him.

If her bright smile was any indication, it was the right answer. “I’m part owner of a bar near the strip.”

 “Maybe I’d stop by and see you at work sometime.”

She grinned. “I think I’d like that.” Turning away, she started toward her driveway and then stopped. Her shoulders squared and she glanced back at him. “Oh, and Trevor?”

The way she said his name, as though it tasted good in her mouth, had him choking on a stifled groan. He watched, captivated as she sauntered back to his doorstep. Crooking her finger she indicated he should bend down. Her breath fell softly on his ear as she whispered, “You really should think about shutting your bedroom blinds.”

It took his mind several seconds to puzzle out what she meant and by the time he did, she was backing out of her driveway.

Holy shit, she’d seen him while he’d been imagining her…Oh
fuck
.

Trevor shut the door and leaned against it, sure he was in way over his head.

Chapter Two

S
am had a little spring in her step when she entered Lucky 21. “Stel-l
a
!” She shouted upstairs, reminiscent of Brando on Streetcar. It was a running joke between her and her college roommate turned business partner.

The sound of voices overhead told her Stella was late, as usual. The deep rumble of a masculine bass carried down through the beaded curtains that separated Stella’s living space from the bar. She couldn’t make out the words but they were deep and sexy. Her good mood evaporated as what sounded like skin slapping skin and giggles turned to groans of pleasure. Her business partner wasn’t alone.

Sam bit her lip and listened. Cripes, she was such a loser. First spying on Trevor and now listening while Stella played hide the salami with her catch of the day. Was everyone getting off today except her?

After plugging in the twinkle lights that draped from the exposed beams above the bar, Sam headed back through the office and turned on her computer. She was the business savvy partner, the detail person who took care of all the boring business aspects, like inventory, paying the bills and keeping the bar in the black. Stella was the fun one, attracting customers and lovers like flies to honey. Or as Stella said, manure, because nothing draws them in like heaps of bullshit.

While the ancient desktop whirred to life, Sam returned to the front and filled the coffee pot. Wiping down the already spotless bar, she moved out into the room and began taking chairs off of tables. A few were sticky and smelled like rum. Filling a bucket with hot water, she wiped them down, then the tables for good measure.

Their prime location, less than a block from the famous Las Vegas strip, assured a steady patronage of both locals and tourists. Hearts were broken every day in Sin City and Sam knew from experience that nothing could blunt the pain like a good, stiff drink.

She’d just taken the last chair down when Stella emerged, a happy glow emanating from her olive skin. The woman was already a knockout, with midnight hair and almond shaped eyes and a figure most females would sell their ovaries for. Standing next to her, it was impossible for Samantha not to feel plain and dumpy, but Stella was such a loyal and fun friend, it was impossible to hate her.

 Stella waved, then headed directly for the coffee pot. “Morning, sugar.”

Sam joined her and found her mug. “And a damn good one from what I heard. Where’s your partner in crime?”

“I left him tied to the bed for later use.”

They both froze, as memories of what Alan had done to her, how he’d tied her down swamped Samantha. The terror, the pain, the absolute helplessness….

Stella slapped a hand over her own mouth, brown eyes going wide. “Oh shit, Sam, I didn’t mean—”

Forcing a smile, Sam took a step back. “It’s okay, it was just a joke. I get it.”

Stella still appeared stricken, her reaction making Sam even more uncomfortable. Stella had seen her in the hospital, had seen her at her worst, after Alan left her for dead. The image haunted them both.

 “I’m an insensitive jackass.”

“More like a bull in an emotional China shop. We’re good.” Sam turned away, looking for something to do. Busy was better.
Fake it til you make it.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs offered a welcome distraction. “Hey babe, I’ll catch you later.” His dark blue gaze reminded her of Trevor Harrison, though she didn’t see the same spark of intelligence or the intensity she’d felt looking at her new neighbor.

“Sam, this is Declan. Deck, my business partner Samantha Jacobs.”

“Nice to meet you.” Deck appraised her openly and Samantha shifted, uncomfortable with his scrutiny. She’d never enjoyed being the focus of male attention but post-Alan it was unbearable.

Funny how Trevor’s assessing gaze had made her squirm for entirely different reasons.

I need to stop thinking about him. And his blinds.

“Stop by again sometime.” Stella offered her coffee mug to Deck who took a hit. They shared a passionate kiss and Sam turned away, envious of Stella’s easy demeanor. She’d never felt so comfortable with a man. Declan pulled away from Stella and tossed Sam a wink before heading out the door. They both enjoyed the sight of his well-toned backside encased in faded denim until he was out of sight.

“Scale of one to ten?” Sam asked, removing clean glasses from the dishwasher. Ever since college, Stella kept her post-coital scoreboard which she shared with her roommate turned business partner.

“Six. Though the packaging is excellent and his stamina was pretty great, his technique leaves something to be desired.”