Page 89 of Bound By Words

“No,” he chuckled as he leaned against the counter in front of me. “But playtime will dehydrate you, and sometimes, if you’re dehydrated, it can be hard to achieve maximum intensity. So if you want your body to keep giving you orgasms, you’ll drink the water.”

“I did not know that,” I responded, unscrewing the cap on my bottle and chugging down a third of it before I exhaled and put the bottle down on the island.

He leaned in, his lips grazing my ear. “You’ll get wetter if you’re hydrated. And it can help me stay hard, too.”

“Then drink up,” I giggled as I grabbed his hand and pushed his bottle toward his face.

He uncapped his bottle, downing the rest of it. I watched with rapt interest as the muscles in his throat flexed as he swallowed.

“Are you okay if we have some guests tonight?” he asked, tossing his bottle toward a recycling bin under the counter. Nathan turned, coming around behind me and placing his hands on the island, resting his scruffy chin on my shoulder. “Talia and Emory want to meet you.” My nerves resurfaced as he leaned in, softly humming into the skin of my neck. “It’s alright if it’s just us tonight.”

“It’s okay,” I answered quietly. Despite my initial reaction being to hide, I wanted to meet Talia. Emory had been dark and mysterious looking at the wedding, but if Chase trusted him, I was sure I would as well. “I want to meet them, too.”

“Let me text Tal, and then we’ll get you settled. I would offer you the guest bedroom, but it’s my playroom, so you’ll have to sleep in my bed. That alright with you?”

Shifting in his arms to face him, I cupped his cheek, gazing at him seriously. “I hope the couch is comfortable enough for you.”

He growled, his fingers digging into my sides, eliciting a startled laugh as he rubbed his beard into my neck. “You’re not funny, sunshine.”

“I am a little funny,” I giggled as he leaned away from me. He cupped my cheeks and placed a firm kiss on my lips.

“You keep thinking that,” he tossed out casually as he stepped back, turning toward the small hallway off the living area. I watched eagerly, ready to dig deeper into learning about Nathan past our time in seclusion.

KELLY

Boston

He pulled me to stand, leading me down the hallway. The rough brick walls continued, and I briefly studied the black and white architectural prints he had mounted, wondering who had been the one to shoot them. “Are these Emory’s?” I asked as he slid open a heavy wooden door mounted on a barn door bracket, motioning for me to follow him.

“No, they’re mine,” he smiled as he led me into his bedroom. I don’t know if I was subconsciously expecting something from Fifty Shades, but I was pleasantly surprised by all the warm colors and the beautifully designed wooden furniture. “I’m a man of many talents,” he joked, but as I admired the clean lines of a beautifully crafted armoire across from the bed, I knew he truly was.

“This is yours too, isn’t it?” I questioned as I traced my palm down the smooth finish, admiring the depth of the color in the stain.

“It is,” he smiled, leaning against the wall beside another sliding barn door. He’d shown me a few things he had in his workshop back in Connecticut, and I’d been impressed at the quality of his craftsmanship. It was easy to tell that Nathan took a lot of pride in his work, showcasing his talents. When I finished a project, I was the same way, often sending my mom links to the sites I’d helped develop for clients.

“It’s all beautiful.”

“It is,” he answered again, observing me move around his space. I knew he wasn’t talking about the furniture as he watched me take everything in with a soft smile. “You can make yourself at home while I’m in here,” he gestured to the door, slowly pulling it to the side.

My mouth dropped open as the huge lighted mirror above the double sinks came into view. An elaborate tile pattern covered the walls from waist height to the stone floors. Nathan grasped my hand again, guiding me into the small room and turning me toward the floor-to-ceiling glass enclosure that was his impressive walk-in shower.

“Um. Can I move in here?” I laughed as I leaned back into his chest while he wrapped his arms around my waist.

“I can make some space,” he chuckled.

“No. I think you misunderstood me. I want to live in this bathroom.”

“You haven’t seen the tub yet,” he chuckled, pointing to another sliding door.

“I don’t want to go home,” I pouted, turning to face him, suddenly feeling a little out of sorts.

“Aw, sunshine,” he murmured as he cupped the back of my head and pulled me into his chest. “I don’t want you to go either. But let’s enjoy the time we have together. Don’t focus on the end.”

“I don’t want it to be the end,” I whispered into his shirt, tears forming.

“It won’t,” he murmured as he combed his fingers through my hair. “I don’t believe that. Not for a second. It might be the end of this trip, but you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Promise me?” The needy quality of my voice worried me, but leaving the bubble of the farmhouse had thrust us back into reality and that scared me.

---