Page 27 of Forbidden Heat

Bargain

I’m on my knees,blindfolded, my face to the mattress, my wrists and forearms bound behind my back, and Cam is filling me to bursting.

I’ve already come half a dozen times tonight, and now my body is revving up again as my man rides me hard, straight to the finish line. “Yes,” I pant as he plunges inside me. “I’m almost there.”

“Let it happen,” he growls, his hands on my hips, pulling me back to meet him with every thrust. “Come for me.”

His words work their magic, and my body tumbles off the precipice into ecstasy. “Yes!” I shout as I tighten around him. He hammers me until he follows me over the edge, and I clamp down hard while he pours himself into me, milking him for every drop.

Still inside me, Cameron undoes my ropes, then eases us onto our sides and pulls the covers up. He nuzzles my neck, my ear, and we cuddle together, no words needed, as the glow slowly ebbs.

Finally, he removes the blindfold. “I know you were nervous about the party,” he says. “But I want you to know you were an excellent hostess.”

I flush with pleasure. “Thanks.” Everyone there, except maybe his parents, seemed to accept me without question. No one sent me strange looks, as if to say, What’s a girl like you doing with a man like him?

It felt strange to me, because I still don’t have an official role in Cam’s life. We don’t go out together because, he says, there are still security concerns. And it’s true that I’ve seen men patrolling the property ever since that night he locked me in the study. I’m not allowed to go riding or anything like that by myself.

The dark cloud of self-doubt that nibbles at my mind says he’s hiding me. He’s never said he loves me, never talked about our future, never even suggested we have one. What am I to make of that?

“What are you thinking?” Cam says.

I don’t want to put him on the spot. All the relationship advice in the world says asking the man about its status is the best way to wreck it. Which seems pretty messed up to me, but there it is.

So I pivot. “I haven’t been able to reach my parents this week.”

Am I imagining the sudden tension in his body? I know I’m not imagining the several beats of silence before he speaks. “When’s the last time you talked to them?”

His tone is too casual. He doesn’t sound concerned at all, unless he’s pretending. Or I’m overreacting, and seeing things that aren’t there.

“Last week,” I tell him. “Mom answered the phone, and in retrospect she sounded funny, but at the time I just thought she was preoccupied. She said they’re planning a trip to Europe, but not until next month.”

“Could be they’re just busier than usual. Have you left messages?”

“Yeah, with both of them, and they haven’t called back. It’s kind of weird. I’m getting a little worried.”

“Hmm. I’ll look into it.”

I relax against him. “Thanks, honey.”

My bonds are very comfortable, so it doesn’t bother me to be tied for longish periods of time, but now Cameron starts undoing them. When I’m free, he turns me to face him.

“There are things I need to say to you that I can’t quite yet.” There’s something in his eyes, serious but tender, that makes my heart beat faster. “But I want to.”

“Okay.” It feels like a lame response; shouldn’t I be more articulate while he’s hinting at something major? Except that anything indicating eagerness, or anticipation, might feel like pressure to hurry up and say them even if he’s not ready. “I can wait.”

His eyes warm. “Soon. I promise.” He seals it with a slow, deep kiss. I want to cuddle against him and go to sleep, but I can’t stop thinking about my parents.

“I left my phone in my room. I’m going to go check it, just in case one of them tried to reach me.”

“All right, babe.”

I roll off the bed and pull on Cam’s robe to pad down the hall. The only reason my purse, with my phone in it, is in my room is that my clothes are still in that closet, and I went there to change after the party. Cameron hasn’t said anything about me moving any of my things into his rooms. It’s another one of those little details that have been preying on my mind.

There’s nothing new on my phone. No calls, no texts. I stick it in my pocket and amble back to Cameron’s suite. Two feet from the open door, I hear his voice.

“Goddammit, Peter, what the fuck are you up to?”

I freeze, a chill creeping over me. Is he talking to my father? I’ve never heard him use that tone of voice before. It’s low, vicious, contemptuous.

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