Page 49 of Every Promise Broken

“Who didn’t?”

“Reggie.” Shame floods my system at even saying his name, and I don’t miss the way Conrad’s entire body stiffens. “Reggie didn’t deserve what I did to him that night.”

Quiet for a moment, he finally says, “He was never good enough for you.”

I look up, taken aback by the ferocity in his gaze as he stares back at me. “That doesn’t mean he deserves to be cheated on and lied to.”

“You feel guilty, then. Is that what it is?”

“Of course, I feel guilty, Conrad! Don’t you?”

“Fuck no, I don’t feel guilty.”

“Why?”

“I don’t owe him anything. You’re my husband, and you came to me when you needed something. There’s nothing to feel guilty about.”

“Except I’m not your husband, Conrad. I’m not yours anymore.”

A growl rips from his throat that I can feel in my bones. “You will always be my mine, Whit.Always. No amount of time or distance will change that.”

There’s no time to respond, no time to even think because, in a flash, Conrad’s lips crash into mine. Taking what he wants—what I want, if I’m being honest with myself—with enough force and passion to steal my breath away. His large, imposing body crushes mine against the wall, one hand coming to my hip, anchoring me there, the other smoothing up my chest and gripping my neck with enough pressure to heat my blood to dangerous levels.

Tongue thrusting into my mouth, he utterly and completely devours me. Conrad kisses me like he’s a dying man and I’m his last meal, and I can do nothing more than hold on tight and hang on for the ride. Teeth clashing and nipping, tongues tangling, hands grappling. Everything about this moment is messy and on fire andabsolutely everything.

By the time he pulls back, our lips are swollen and slick, his eyes nearly black, and our chests heave with our inability to catch our breath.

“Tell me I’m wrong, Whit.” Gaze wild, voice guttural, Conrad gives me no space as he waits for my response. The response he knows I can’t give him. He smirks devilishly, and it weakens my knees. “I think it’s about time I remind you just how much you belong to me, kitten. Remind you just how much you need me.”

Taking a step back, he unties the fabric belt from around his robe, dragging it through the loops until it’s freed. The robe opens, his beautiful, wide, fuzzy chest on display. My blood heats and my pulse thunders.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

He flicks his chin upward with a rumbling chuckle. “Hands above your head, kitten.”

Glancing up slowly, I take in the metal hook right above my head, a shiver wracking through my body, nearly paralyzing me as realization hits me. “No,” I husk, my tongue twice the size, throat dry. There’s no fight in my tone; it’s weak even to my own ears.

“Don’t be like that, baby,” he drawls sweetly, and my heart stutters at him calling me that. It almost makes me whimper. “I know how much you love being a good boy for me. So, do as you’re told. But first, take off your shirt.”

I consider telling him no again, and maybe meaning it this time. I consider storming back inside and going to bed like I should do. Believe me, I do.

But it’s brief.

There’s no denying how much my body wants this. Even if a small portion of my mind knows this is wrong, knows I’ll regret it in the morning, my bodyneedsthis. So, unable to make eye contact, I reach behind me, tugging my shirt over my head. It lands on the floor, and I know there’s no turning back. The softwhooshingsound of the fabric hitting the concrete is the seal of my fate.

“Good boy,” Conrad says, voice like gravel. “Now, hands up.”

Raising my hands above my head, I also lift my gaze, my breath catching as I take in the overflowing desire pouring out of Conrad’s eyes. Without looking away from me, Conrad weaves the belt skillfully until there are two holes big enough to fit my hands through. He loops it around the hook a few times until he’s secure, then he feeds my hands through the openings one by one. Each movement is painstakingly slow.

My heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of my chest.

As he tightens the restraints, I feel a slight pressure around my wrists. Not enough to hurt, but enough to know I’m not going anywhere easily. Goosebumps cover every inch of my skin, and my cock is hard and throbbing behind my sleep pants. The second he looks down, he’ll see it. It’s twisted how turned on I am, completely at the mercy of my ex-husband.

Conrad drags his index finger along the column of my neck, down my abdomen, until he gets to the waistband of my pants. He pauses, flicking his gaze up to mine, a grin curling his lips.

“God, you look ravishing like this.” The compliment rolls off his tongue like melted butter, and it washes over me, bathing me in his praise. “You remember what to say if you need to stop?”

I nod.

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