Page 193 of Those Who Are Bound

He lightly caressed her over the material of her panties, but the slight pressure was almost enough to make her come. When he emitted a low groan of, “Fuck, kitten,” she nearly melted down.

She wanted him to push the material aside, to touch her flesh. She wanted his fingers inside her, to tease her, to please her. When she rocked against his hand in an effort to encourage, he merely caressed evenly, his petting paced. Punishing her, maybe. It drove her insane in the best way, but the most frustrating, as well.

As she was about to beg him to make her come, a car horn jolted her back to her senses. It wasn’t directed at them—too far off—but it was enough to have her pushing back against him. “Stop, no. I can’t.”

“Elliott—” another growl, this time of protest, as he tried to bring her back to him.

She slapped at his hands as she backed away toward her car, her face flushed. “No, Jonah. Stop. Stop touching me. Stop fighting for this.” Because that’s what this was, she realized. He’d come back to fight. He’d licked his wounds, gathered his strength, and this was the mission he was on.

“You’re worth fighting for.” Proving her right.

Pausing, she looked at him, her heart swelling and breaking all over again. It would have been easier not to see him again, to torture herself with images of him with another woman, happy. “So are you.” She whirled, leaving him standing there with a shell-shocked expression, and escaped into her car.

Backing out, she wouldn’t look up at him, even though he hadn’t moved. But as she drove away, she looked in her rearview mirror. He remained behind his Jeep, confused, contemplative.

How many times would she have to do this to him before he realized shewasn’tworth it?

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