Page 46 of Bound

It’s almost pathetic.

This man could tell me we were going to run through the restaurant naked and I’d happily strip down.

This man could ask me to his bed, and I’d gleefully jump between the sheets.

This man could?—

“Yes,” I rasp, shoving that thought down.

But the words don’t want tostaydown.

This man could hurt me.

He nods at the waiter and thankfully, the other man disappears, leaving me to only face Jackson as I try to snap a lid on my panic attack. I’m overwhelmed because today has been out of a dream.

That’s all.

It’s not because I feel vulnerable and open and fucking terrified that this shit is going to burst and disappear like an over-filled balloon, gone as quickly as it appeared.

It’s not.

It’s.Not?—

“Excuse me.” I pop up to my feet so quickly that I almost tip my seat over backward.

“Kitty cat?”

“I’m fine,” I manage to push out. “I— Bathroom?—”

Where I can panic in private.

But I run out of steam there, so I just spin on my heel, hurry to the swinging doors, and push out into the dining room.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Jackson

I’m on my feet and following her before the door has the chance to swing closed.

Which means I nearly take off the waiter’s head as I plow through.

He has a bottle in his hand—of fucking pinot grigio, just like what I ordered all of a minute ago—and I almost knock him and the expensive as fuck wine down.

Because I got the good shit.

Because Claire deserves the good shit.

And now she’s hurrying through the dining room, taking a sharp left, and disappearing from sight.

Shit.

“We’ll be right back,” I mutter to him and race after her, turning the corner and catching a glimpse of blond hair just before a door slams shut behind her.

I reach for the knob, twisting it and pushing it open an inch.

I hear her gasp but keep nudging it inward, carefully so I don’t hit her. “Just me,” I murmur.

“I—”

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