Page 130 of Those Who Are Bound

Elliott

Elliottstretchedoutunderthe sheet, the sensation of her naked flesh sliding against the material deliciously sinful. It matched the soreness of her muscles and well-fucked ache between her legs. Breathing in the scent of coffee, she stiffened.

Shit!

The soreness; the coffee. He was still here, in the kitchen. The previous night came roaring back into her consciousness, the consequences of her actions. He’d challenged her; she’d taken him up on it. Or rather, that darker part of herself that she couldn’t control had. And they’d ended up here, in her bed.

So much for creating distance, for being strong.

He’d taken his time last night, reclaiming her with his hands, his tongue, his cock. She imagined his thorough taking of her was his way of letting her know she was his; it was her sweet punishment for trying to break up with him.

There had been nothing holy in the room, nor anything holy about it. She may have invoked his deities once or twice, but it was his name screamed more than any others. And often. She may be a little hoarse today.

But herdemon had risen up as he lay between her legs, his head on her stomach. The pressure of his body against her pelvis, her pussy, warming her, had been divine. And though she’d been running her fingers through his hair, she’d said coldly, “You can go now.” Dismissing him, dismissing everything he’d done to her, the screams he’d elicited from her. The orgasms that hadalmosthad her rethinking her stance on religion.

He had lifted off her slowly, pivoting to glower up at her. Staring down at him, she saw her nipples peak at the fierce look he was giving her. In the darkness, the green glittered like a wild animal; she’d shivered. Just as slowly, he moved to all fours, his pace primal as he prowled over her. As he moved, he forced her legs farther apart. Crazy aroused by the possession he issued, she widened for him even as she glared back, challenging, notching her chin up.

Face to face, nose to nose, he lowered his body to cover hers, the head of his cock nudging her entrance. His glare penetrated as he growled, “Neverask me to leave you in the middle of the night again.” And he’d pushed roughly into her; swiftly, in full. She’d arched into it, reveling in his ferocious taking of her.

It was why she was sore now, how he’d taken ownership of her, punished her for attempting to kick him from her bed in the middle of the night.

He’d told her that he wasn’t that man, and he’d proven it with both words and the sinful chastening of her body. He’d brought her to submission with devouring kisses and deep, domineering thrusts.

Groaning now, she pushed herself up onto her elbows. There was no avoiding this morning, or him. The evitable of starting the process of breaking up again. She got out of bed, grabbed a T-shirt, and pulled it over her head. She headed down the hall and toward the kitchen sheepishly.

Jonah stood against the back counter, wearing his boxer briefs, attention snapping to her the moment she appeared. He set aside his cell phone. His expression was wary yet hopeful. After he’d taken the night to physically adjust her attitude, pounding his intention into her so thoroughly that she would see scratches on his back if he turned, he was probably more hopeful than he should be.

“Good morning,” he greeted, inspecting her, a hint of possession remaining from last night, like he didn’t want her to forget whose name she had invoked repeatedly.

“Hi.” Yep, her voice was hoarse. Her gaze chased to the coffee. “I can’t have a conversation with you until half of that pot is in my system.”

He chuckled, but he half turned to pour her a cup. “What sort of conversation are you planning on having with me that you need such a brace for? My understanding is, we’vecometo an understanding.”

Falling forward dramatically on the counter, she mumbled, “This one.”

“Elliott, kitten…” He set the coffee next to her and stroked her hair.

Facing the countertop still, she said, “I’m afraid you think that the sex was something more than it was. But it doesn’t change anything. It was just sex.”

“Hmm.”

She lifted her head only to prop her chin on the counter, looking up at him.

He was regarding her with a mix of amused frustration. “Apparently I didn’t fuck you hard enough.”

She snapped up and settled him with a glare, fists on her hips.

Running a hand behind his neck, he said seriously, “We work through this. I’m in this relationship, too. I’m invested. I won’t call it quits at the first disagreement.”

Shewantedto leap the counter and jump into his arms, because what woman wouldn’t want to hear those words? Oh, that’s right: a fucked-up one who would take this wonderful man’s beliefs and use them against him until there was nothing left ofhim. And then she’d walk away, leaving him a shell of who he was, because then she’d despise him as much as he despised her.

“I’m not where you are. I need to catch up to that.”

“I’ll give you the time you need, but we don’t walk away from one another.” He held out a hand to her. “Come here.”

Elliott’s pulse jumped. “No. I need to wrap my head around everything, and I can’t think when you touch me.”

His smirk was one of arrogant satisfaction. “That should tell you something.” Then concern kicked in. “Wrap your head around what?”

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