Page 32 of Bound By Words

Chase: Evan called him. He was supposed to let you know he was there.

My eyes widened at her message, and my fingers flew across the screen, formulating my response.

Kelly: You told an ax murderer to come to introduce himself?

Chase: Answer the door, drama queen.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I squeaked as a loud knock sounded on the front door.

Kelly: I’m writing you out of my will.

Chase: You have a will?

Kelly: No…but you’re no longer in it.

Chase: Go!

“Ugh, I don’t wanna.” My voice was a low whine as I reluctantly dragged myself across the room, pausing at the window above the entryway table and trying—unsuccessfully—to tame my wild hair again.

But it wasn’t like it mattered to some backwoods lumberjack. He could have three teeth, for all I knew. I doubted he was the hunky woodman of my dirty fantasies.

Except…when I opened the door, it wasn’t some unknown backwoods lumberjack. He had a full set of perfectly straight, white teeth. And he had already featured in many of my recent fantasies.

Nathan stood with his hands braced on the top of the doorframe—with a sexy as fuck beard and a smirk on his lips—as he looked down at me.

“Hello, sunshine.”

And that was when I panicked and slammed the door in his ridiculously, ruggedly attractive face—catching the hem of my tunic in the doorframe in the process.

Because, of course, I did.

“Fuck.”

NATHAN

Boston

Since I’d checked on my active worksites the day before, it wasn’t difficult to move my vacation up a few weeks and pass the rest of my projects on to someone else in the office. A few late-night emails later, I was free to leave Boston. I’d already packed a bag, planning on taking off to my inherited property in Connecticut first thing in the morning. It was a short drive to Ashford, the closest town to Evan’s location, so I hadn’t hesitated to offer my help.

Grace had tried to call, but I declined everything, sending her calls to voicemail. I was not giving her another chance since she hadn’t even talked to me before pulling the stunt she had. Even one-off play arrangements weren’t the place for mind games, and while our play involved a certain amount of power exchange, what she had done had crossed so many lines.

Yesterday’s scene had been a total mindfuck, and I wasn’t playing this game with them. Marisa and I had parted ways, and it was staying that way. I knew that was not my child, and I was not getting roped into some crazy baby mama drama. I worried about her mental health, but she wasn’t my sub anymore, so I had to let her figure out her life on her own. She was an adult and had a child to worry about now. I hoped for its sake that she got her life together.

I’d been—mostly—honest with Grace about our relationship, and since sex wasn’t on the table with us, it hadn’t been her business for me to include my fertility status. She knew I didn’t want kids and that they were a hard limit. That was enough for our relationship. The decision I’d made for myself a few years ago was none of her business.

My sleep was broken. Every little noise of the city was another prick against my anxious mind, making it hard to relax. I knew I could practice my meditation techniques, but something about the betrayal of someone who you’d let in and trusted was too much for me. I never wanted to turn into my mother—an empty, anxious shell of a person—but Marisa’s betrayal of my limits was hard to overlook.

For her to trap me into whatever her game was with Grace as an accomplice was unforgivable. If our dynamic hadn’t already run its course, I would have ended it immediately; we were done. Marisa was lucky I wasn’t contacting people I knew within the community to get her banned from every invitation list possible. Grace may have been an uninformed accomplice, but she knew better, and I knew she was likely beating herself up that she’d violated the trust we’d built between us.

As I tossed and turned, my mind was wired despite the weariness in my body, I tried to make sense of Marisa’s actions. I knew she wanted children. I respected that, but I’d told her very candidly when we were still in the vetting process that it was a hard limit and non-negotiable for me. I hadn’t told her about the vasectomy, but the fact it was a hard limit should have been enough for her to respect my choices. Hard limits weren’t up for negotiation.

If the situation had been reversed, I would have walked away if it was a deal-breaker before we’d even set up our contract, or I would have respected my partner’s wishes. She knew I wanted a romantic partner to play with, but not at the expense of my wants and needs. She had no issues deceiving herself and me about what she truly wanted.

It didn’t bother me that she was sleeping with other men while we were together because we hadn’t put exclusivity in our arrangement if she was safe. She thought she could rope me into impregnating her, and she’d lied about the birth control she wasn’t using. If I hadn’t already been tested after we parted ways, I’d be concerned about what she could’ve potentially exposed me to. Another reason that I insisted on protecting myself.

Everything about our relationship was now muddied. All I knew was that I needed to be firm about what I needed with whoever I got involved with next. I was tired of liars and tired of games. All I wanted was for someone to support me and the ability to do the same for them.

Even though she had nothing to do with the shit that had gone down, my mind drifted to Kelly and the bubble we’d created in that hotel room. Maybe she was at the forefront of my mind because I was headed to her brother’s property later to start working on the guest house. The weekend I spent with her was the most effortless interaction I’d had with a woman in years. Even with the limited time, she’d been transparent about not only her sexual wants and desires but also her life.

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