Page 77 of The Wicked

A moment later, I was in his arms, and half an hour after that, I was in his bed. My bed. Our bed. What was mine was his, what was his was mine. We were each other’s.

And that’s the way I always wanted it to be.

27

SARA

Garrett

My last meeting got cancelled. I want you naked, blindfolded, and waiting.

He was flying back right now? Tonight? This week without Garrett had felt like the longest of my life, even though I’d had fun working at the Craft Cabin each day and spent the evenings hanging out with Brooke and Romi. He’d become such a big piece of my life so quickly, and I couldn’t imagine a future without him. Didn’t want to. We’d talked on the phone every night he was away, and yesterday, we agreed that it was finally time for him to meet the Baldwins. Sneaking around had been fun at first, but rain was forecast next week and he didn’t need to be squelching through wet undergrowth to get to the pool house.

Kayleigh’s and Lillian’s boyfriends visited—a whole string of them because none ever lasted long—and Easton had always brought women home before he went to prison. I was perfectly entitled to have Garrett stay with me. And maybe in the future, I’d spend more time in Roseburg too? Garrett wanted to wait a little longer before we went fully public with our relationship—to protect me, he said. As his official girlfriend, I’d be expected to be by his side at gala dinners and fundraisers and the kind of events I was more used to coordinating than attending.

The adjustment period was welcome. The thought of being thrust into the spotlight was a daunting one, and I was no social butterfly. Plus my wardrobe needed an overhaul. Brie and Romi had begun funnelling clothes and accessories in my direction, and Darla had offered to help with alterations when she was back in town, but would that be enough? I didn’t know how to twist my hair into an artful chignon, and every time I tried to use eyeliner, it looked as if a toddler had gotten loose with a crayon.

But that was a problem for tomorrow. Tonight, I just had to take a shower, shave everywhere, dry my hair, and do whatever Garrett told me to do.

How long until you get here?

If I were making the trip back from Los Angeles, I’d have to find my way to LAX, spend an hour checking in and being groped by a TSA agent, fly to Portland, and then drive for nearly five hours until I reached Baldwin’s Shore. Total journey time: at least eight hours.

Garrett

Three hours x

But being wealthy bought you the one thing nobody had enough of: time. Garrett would take a private jet to Medford, then transfer to a helicopter for the trip to North Bend, where his Porsche was waiting. He’d explained the travel arrangements as if that were totally normal, and in his world, it was. I still felt like an interloper. At some point, I’d get a tap on the shoulder and a reminder to return to normality.

That was a journey I didn’t want to make.

And tonight, I didn’t have to.

The air changed when Garrett walked in. It wasn’t just his cologne or the underlying smell of man; it was the energy. Every molecule became charged when he was around. I’d done as I was told, and the grey satin blindfold meant I couldn’t see him, but I heard the softthunkas he dropped his overnight bag, the quiet rustle of fabric as he shed clothing. Losing one sense meant the others were heightened, and soft footsteps told me he was barefoot as he approached the bed. He trailed something down my stomach. A feather? The vase of ostrich plumage was a new addition to my bedroom.

“You look beautiful, Saralisa.”

The feather got lower, lower, and I squirmed as it tickled.

“Keep still.”

“I can’t.”

“Which is why I brought you a gift.” Tissue paper crinkled, and he took hold of one of my wrists. Cool metal encircled it, and he kissed my palm before he secured the other wrist into a cuff as well. Chain clinked, and then I was attached to my bed frame with my hands stretched over my head. “Don’t fidget, or it’ll hurt.”

The handcuffs weren’t the only thing he’d picked up in LA. I found my ankles buckled into leather restraints, and there was something between them. Something solid. When he pressed a kiss to my pussy and followed up with a flick of his tongue, I tried to squeeze my legs together, but I couldn’t.

“It’s a spreader bar. It keeps you exactly where I want you.”

Asnick, and I caught the scent of white jasmine and sandalwood—he’d lit the soy candles that had been last week’s gift. A dozen of them in different colours, because he couldn’t possibly buy just one. The overhead light turned off, making the setting so much more intimate. Drops fell on my skin, oil or lotion, and he massaged it in, paying particular attention to my breasts and my feet.

“I’ve been thinking about this all week,” he rasped, his voice low and throaty. “You glistening and bare for me, my beautiful Cinderella.”

If he wasn’t careful, I’d come from his words alone. “I missed you.”

“How do you feel about travelling?”

“With you?”

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