Page 48 of Bound

“You know I like pinot grigio,” she murmurs.

I touch her cheek, heart squeezing. “I pay attention, and so do you.”

She drops her chin to her chest. “Yes, but…”

“What?”

“I just keep waiting for the bubble to burst. Like”—she throws up her hands and exhales, pacing away—“how is this reallife? It’s got to be a dream, and I’m going wake up again and you’re not there and?—”

“You’re going to wake up and I’m not there?”

She flushes.

“Kitty cat,” I say silkily, snaking a hand around her middle and drawing her flush against me. “Do you have something to tell me?”

“You mean besides the fact that this day has been fucking perfect and I can’t believe it’s real and I’m scared that I’ll never have anything to compare with it ever again?” she asks, her tone tart, her palm pressing to my chest.

Trying to escape. To avoid. To prevaricate.

But I won’t let her.

No fucking way.

“You’ll have something to compare it to.” Lots of somethings, because I’ll make sure of it.

“I—”

“You’ll wake up andIwon’t be there?”

Bright red cheeks. Teeth pressed into her bottom lip. Eyes that are slipping away from mine. “I dream about you sometimes.”

I grin. I shouldn’t but…

“Is that all?”

Her cheeks grow brighter. “Y-yes?”

“Kitty cat,” I warn.

Her chin lifts. “Fine,” she snaps, “I’ve dreamed about you and thought about you and used my vibrator to make myself come to those thoughts and dreams, okay?” She tosses up her hands. “Is that a crime?”

“No, sweetheart,” I tell her, drawing her closer, tracing a finger over the flush on her cheeks, one at a time. “It’s just something I’m now desperate to see.”

“O-oh,” she whispers, and I can feel her trembling, can see the desire creep into those pretty brown eyes. “Do?—”

“Do I what?” I ask, dick twitching, desire making my hands shake as I tuck her hair behind her ears, as I stroke a finger along her throat. I want to lift her back onto the counter, want to kiss and touch her until she comes. Want to tease those fantasies out of her and diligently act out each and every one.

But this is her first date.Ever.

And we’re in a bathroom.

And we have a chef waiting to serve us an amazing fucking meal.

I want her to have everything she’s ever wanted. I want to spoil her, treat her with such fucking care that she doesn’t question it, that she expects it from the men in her life.

Men in her life.

The thought makes my blood boil.

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