Tied With Me (With Me In Seattle)(9)

I toss the bag of chips aside and hang my head in my hands. And what the f*ck was I doing, playing at the whole submissive-girl-who-likes-to-be-tied-up thing? That’s not me.



Now I wish he had taken my number so I could tell him off when he calls.

“Nic, stop.”

His voice is hard and close behind me.

Damn it.

I almost made it to my car.

“Why?” I ask and whirl around, turning on him. “What could you possibly have to say to me?”





Chapter Two


Matt



“First, I think I need to apologize for something, based on your less-than-warm reaction to seeing me, but I’m not sure exactly what I did wrong, except forget to take your number before I ran out of your apartment.”

A mistake I’ve been kicking myself for ever since. That one night with this gorgeous dark-haired, green-eyed woman has haunted me since I had her beneath me, wrapped up in my ropes.

“I’m quite sure your wife and kids would have had an issue with you taking my number. I can’t believe I was so stupid.” She clenches her eyes shut and shakes her head while I scowl down at her.

“What wife and kids?” I ask, dumbfounded.

“Yours,” she replies.

I feel my eyes widen in surprise. “I’m not married, Nic.”

She whips her green gaze up to mine, and her jaw drops.

“Why did you think that?” I ask as I step closer to her.

“Because when you took that call, you asked if the girls were okay.”

I nudge her chin up with my fingertip, making her meet my eyes. That she’s been convinced for weeks that I am a married man who cheated on my wife with her pisses me off beyond words.

“Brynna was in a car accident that night, and she had the girls with her.”

She gasps, her eyes go even wider, and then she frowns, looking toward the house.

She obviously wants to go to Bryn, to check on her.

God, she’s amazing.

“So you see, I’m as single as they come, Nicole.”

“Nic,” she replies absently, then shakes herself and focuses back on me. “It doesn’t matter.” She pulls away.

My eyes travel down her petite little body, currently covered in a crisp white baker’s jacket and black slacks. A simple red bow is tied around her head. She’s beautiful in anything, whether it be a small skirt and barely there top, or this boxy jacket.

Fuck, she’d be beautiful in a burlap sack.

And I haven’t even seen her naked yet.

Yet.

“Why?” I ask calmly.

“Because I’m not your type, Matt.” She smirks and opens her car door, throws her bag into the back seat and turns back to me with sad eyes that contradict the stubborn set of her jaw.

“Why?” I ask again. “What type is that?”

“Submissive. I don’t have a submissive bone in my body.” She spreads her arms wide. “I have opinions, and I like to assert them. I don’t like being told what to do.”

She’s definitely not suitable to be a full-time sub. There’s no way in hell that she’s slave material. And I don’t give a f*ck about that anyway.

I’m no slave master.

But she was perfect in the bedroom, the way she communicated freely but let me push her limits, her fear of having her hands tied, and bringing her just to the edge of her pain threshold, gripping her hair in my hand and holding her up off the mattress.

Goddamn it, just thinking about her flushed cheeks and the way she looked back at me while I pounded inside her makes my dick throb.

Her breathing increases and her cheeks redden as she watches me, as though she can read my thoughts. She drops her arms and twists her hands together at her waist.

“I beg to differ.”

“I’m the one who’s supposed to beg, right?” She shakes her head and lowers herself into her car. “It’ll never happen. Leave it be, Matt.”

And with that she drives away.

Not a chance in f*cking hell am I going to leave it be.

***

“So, I know you’re ugly as f*ck, but you don’t usually scare the women off. What happened?” Will smirks at me as I join the others in my parents’ backyard.

“Fuck you,” I reply under my breath and yank a bottle of water out of a cooler, twist off the top and take a long pull.