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My body vibrates with emotion I keep suppressed; I can barely see past my anger; the grip on my temper tenuous, at best. I hate that he’s the cause of such emotion, hate that I can’t project my usual mask of calm.

  ‘Sit down,’ Dan directs, re-entering.

  ‘I’m in no mood for your goddamn games,’ I retort, brushing past him, intent on moving into the kitchen as his hand grasps my wrist.

  ‘Please,’ he murmurs. ‘We need to talk. I’d like to apologise.’

  ‘Talk?’ I can’t help but sneer—can’t but fail to see the reflection of it in his eyes. ‘Don’t you think it’s a little too late for that?’

  ‘Verbosity is hardly your forte either, darling. At least this time I got your name.’

  Despite their casual delivery, his words sting. He pulls harder on my wrist, and though I resist, the balance of experience is on his side. I stumble, and Dan pulls my body to his chest. My heart begins to pound, and as he twists one hand to the small of my back, the beat moves from my chest to between my legs.

  ‘Don’t go.’ His whispered breath is hot on the skin of my neck.

  I try not to demean myself and attempt, in vain, to resist the resulting shiver. His hand drifts to my ass, his fingers running lightly where he’d marked me earlier. Each touch against the denim elicits a deeper throb. It goes on for a minute. Or an hour. Each thud pulsing and racing straight to my pussy. And I hate him for it. Hate myself even more.

  Opening my mouth to protest, to stop this from progressing—for the child, for myself—he silences me, covering my mouth with his.

  His kiss is full of regret. A kiss that’s slow, one that heeds my goodbye. It’s with sadness that I allow myself to go with it until, languidly, his mouth pulls away.

  ‘Bondage comes in all shapes and forms.’ His eyes are dark depths and level with mine. ‘What holds you down is being tied to the belief that what you enjoy is wrong.’ I open my mouth to protest, to tell him his lie of omission was worse than my hiding, whichever way you cut it. Perhaps reading my expression, he places a finger across my lips. ‘We need to discuss that.’

  For a reason I can’t currently fathom, I allow him to pull me to the window seat.

  ‘I didn’t tell you I have a son, but try to see it from my point of view. I’ve met this girl who is fabulous. Smart and gorgeous. But she’s also a bit of an enigma. Initially, she didn’t even want to know my name.’

  ‘I thought guys found that hot.’

  ‘Until they want more,’ he says, scratching his neck. ‘Getting information out of this girl is like extracting blood from bricks. Even when she’s a little drunk.’ He smiles, but I find I can’t return the expression, beyond feeling the corners of my mouth twitch. ‘Except, that is, when she’s full of post-coital bliss. Can’t get her to keep quiet then.’

  I narrow my gaze and try to cut in as his hands grip mine a little more tightly.

  ‘That’s the only time I learn anything about you, apart from when we’re fucking, but that’s not the same. It doesn’t allow me the way in.’

  I open my mouth to protest, but no sound comes out. I know he’s read me right. Repressed doesn’t even cover it. Scared, too.

  ‘Put yourself in my shoes; you’re about twenty-three?’

  ‘Six.’ I clear my throat, the word hitting the air as a squeak. ‘I’m twenty-six.’

  ‘I’ve got almost ten years on you. You’re not from here, and there’s every chance you won’t be here for long. You don’t want to talk, and I didn’t want to frighten you off. And, technically speaking, this is our first date. Maybe I was just working up to it.’ His attempt at humour falls very flat. He pulls his hands through his hair before resting elbows on knees. ‘I’m extremely proud of my son. I wouldn’t have chosen for you to meet him tonight nor under these circumstances, but I wasn’t hiding him. More like trying not to frighten you off.’

  For lots of reasons, none of them about me, I allow him to pull me into his arms.

  ‘Don’t go like this, disappointed and angry. I’ve got what you want. Just give me some time. Let me put things right.’

  The fight leaves my body like a puppet with cut strings. I’ve no idea what the future holds, and nowhere to go from here. But for now, I’m right where I want to be.

  Chapter Nine

  DAN

  I wake shivering from the cold with my back pressed against the cool, damp window. Lying on my side and painfully compressed, my brain is slow to realise I’m curled in the window seat. I stretch the stiffness in my legs but am prevented from moving more than an inch by the wall at my feet, my knees uncomfortably bent but, thankfully, still fitted behind Louise’s. I thank God and divine providence that she’d stayed. Unlike last time. And wonder if it has anything to go with the way my arms seemed to have remained wrapped around her all night. Smiling, I breathe deep the scent of her hair, uncomfortable but content with this girl in my arms as the morning stirred, sunlight stealing across the room like a thief.

  It’s strange how it feels like she belongs here. Like this is right. Can a person fall that quick? And would she want me when she knew all my secrets?

  I was wrong not to tell her about Hal in the first instance, but in my defence, we have spent most of our time together playing and fucking. That’s where the interest lies. I consider the thought, discarding it. I’ve fucked enough women to know what we have here is the beginnings of something else. But what if she isn’t interested beyond the casual? Another thought I send on its way, tightening my arms across her waist. Her shoulder rises and falls in a steady rhythm, and I resist the urge to bury my head in her hair. To kiss her neck. To rouse her from sleep, to stir her to consciousness beneath me. But there was Hal, in the back of my mind and in another room. Poor boy had enough issues from the divorce without walking in on his father balls deep in his new “friend”. Because, ultimately, I know that’s where kissing Louise would lead to. Especially given what we’d left unfinished since Hal interrupted us last night.

  My cock twitches at the thought, belying my body’s physical discomfort, and I wonder, not for the first time, how anyone would relish being trussed in awkward positions for any length of time. Would the aches make me think twice before tying up Louise, or anyone else, for that matter? Probably not. My thoughts are wry. Each to their own kink.

  A creaking floorboard sounds from the other side of the kitchen; the French doors. It could only mean one thing.

  My former wife and darling. The woman I could quite happily strangle some days. Belle.

  I close my eyes, feigning sleep as my ex’s footsteps pad lightly against the floor. When they stop quite suddenly, I open one eye. It was absolutely worth being squashed against the damp glass just to see her expression. A taste of her own medicine was only part of what she deserved.

  She looks . . . horrified.

  Her eyes roam and travel over our entwined bodies, her expression morphing from distaste to distress. Turning swiftly on her toes, she opens a nearby cupboard, realising she’d been caught as her gaze reaches my face. I wonder what she saw there? No expression I’ve worn of late, I’m sure.

  I rest the back of my head against the glass, eyes cast to the ceiling, wondering what the tiny but beautiful malevolent devil would do next. Slowly disengaging myself from the warm body beside me, I climb over the warmth of her body, resisting the kiss to her head. But the last thing I want is for her to wake to this awkwardness. Bad enough I’d sprung Hal on her last night. My foot hits the floor with a thump, and I thank the heavens she’s still asleep.

  ‘What are you doing here, Belle?’ I ask wearily. Leaning against the island bench, I rub a hand across my face, sliding them into the pockets of my jeans. Probably to stop them from propelling her through the door. Play nice, I remind myself. It’s not worth the grief to be anything else.

  ‘Would you believe I came to borrow a cup of sugar?’ The levity in her voice is as empty as the sugar canister she holds in her hand. ‘Besides, you have my son.’ She doesn’t turn a
round, one hand clutching the open cupboard door as she begins moving the contents around with her other hand. Seeking, stalling, her hand shaking.

  I ignore the lie, the reference to Hal being hers as opposed to ours, and I absolutely ignore the tightness in her shoulders, I add to the list ignorance of how she’s arrived dressed. Something from the past . . . A peignoir par excellence, the boutique owner had called it. We’d been in Paris on a second honeymoon of sorts. A swan song of sex might be more appropriate, our marriage already ebbing. Silk and embroidery, soft billowing sleeves, and like a starlet of yesteryear, she’d swanned around our hotel room, barely concealing her nakedness underneath. I hope to God she’s wearing more under it now. Yet I know if I slid the silk to her hip, I’d find bare skin. Call it instinct. Survival, probably.

  ‘You can’t keep coming in whenever you like,’ I repeat tiredly, now rubbing a hand across my stubbled chin. ‘You don’t live here anymore, remember?’

  Her hand slowly lowers from the shelf. Pausing, she turns. ‘I still have keys.’

  ‘Then maybe you should leave them.’

  ‘What would be the point? The door is always open. You’re the only man in London who doesn’t batten down for the night.’ She uses a chiding tone, toying with a lock of hair that’s fallen against her breast. Her eyes slide to the side for a moment, before she looks back, gazing at me from beneath her pale lashes. ‘Darling, you just invite trouble in.’

  Could she be any more obvious?

  ‘Use the front door next time. Ring the bell. Your kind of trouble I don’t need.’

  ‘Rather large, isn’t she?’ Belle replies, ignoring my demand as her gaze falls to Louise lying in the window still. ‘Not really your type.’ Her words are light, but I see well enough the tightness around her eyes.

  ‘She’s taller than you are, if that’s what you mean.’ I keep my tone even, but can’t help but twist the knife. ‘But isn’t everyone? And since when have you been an expert on me?’

  ‘Since forever,’ she replies simply. ‘Since the first day I saw you. Since I began picking girls out for you to fuck in the club.’

  ‘Funny that. They were always some facsimile of you. A little heavier, a little plainer, but always a . . . little . . . bit . . . you.’

  ‘Because I, my sweet, am still what you need.’

  Her words are smoky as she steps toward me, loosening the belt on her gown. I can’t stop her. Not without touching her. And I don’t want to do that unless it’s to wrap my hands around her neck. I say nothing and keep my eyes about her mouth as she lets the robe drape open like some porcelain peep show.

  I still refuse to look as she steps into me, laying her palms against my chest. ‘Don’t,’ I grate out, grabbing her wrists swiftly as they travelled to my waistband, finding a sliver of naked skin.

  I shiver; revulsion, not desire. This woman has put me through so much, I’d happily never set eyes on her again.

  ‘Will if I want to,’ she murmurs. ‘You’re not the boss of me. Not presently.’

  ‘I said don’t,’ I growl, pulling on her wrists hard. ‘Not fucking ever.’

  Her eyes cloud with want, her knees caving slightly as she pushes herself against me. It’s not the reaction I was aiming for, but perhaps one I should have anticipated.

  ‘There’s my darling monster,’ she exhales libidinously. ‘I thought you’d left. Gone all vanilla on me.’

  I smile, aiming for malicious intent, but then bend my mouth to her ear.

  ‘I don’t go anything on you anymore, Annabelle. I don’t come in you nor come on you. I don’t even think of you anymore.’ I slip my fingers around her elbow, gripping tight as I move her towards the door. ‘You left me. You don’t get to do this.’ Pushing her out into the cool morning, I almost yell, ‘And tie your gown; you look like a wanton slut.’ Then I quietly closed the door.

  ‘Unfinished business?’ Louise’s dry tone catches me off guard, my heart beating as though I’d just sprinted a mile. Fuck.

  ‘You’re awake.’ My stomach twists. I’d hoped to spare her—us—from this.

  ‘Did I miss anything?’

  ‘Embarrassment of mammoth proportions,’ I murmur hopefully, moving towards her, watching her as though she were a skittish animal. Did she hear everything? See?

  ‘Would that be hers or yours?’ Double fuck.

  I shake my head in some semblance of an answer because what could I say? That I loved her once? That she’d ruined my life? Up until the day I decided she deserved none of my pain?

  ‘She doesn’t really mean it. She’s greedy, that’s all. The cake and eat it kind.’

  ‘Okay . . .’ There’s levity in the word, but she isn’t laughing. ‘I’m not really sure what that means.’ She pulls herself upright, straightening her inside-out t-shirt and refusing to look at me. ‘If she’s the cake eating kind, what does that make you?’

  ‘Nuts.’ I bark out a laugh, not sure of its source. ‘An absolute fruitcake. I must’ve been mad for marrying her. God only knows.’ I exhale a heavy sigh, my shoulders moving along with it. ‘Still, you live and you learn, apparently.’

  ‘She’s tiny,’ Louise states, her words brittle, though bright in tone. ‘Cute, like a pixie.’

  ‘That sounds right,’ I say, frowning. ‘Though not the Disney kind. Ruthlessly manipulative and cunning, but I’d rather not discuss her.’ I take a seat beside her, our thighs almost touching. This would surely be it. The straw to break the camel’s back. Finding out about Hal the way she had was bad enough, but I wasn’t going to let her leave without a fight. ‘Let’s discuss us.’ I nudge her playfully with my shoulder, heat radiating with the small touch.

  ‘There’s an us?’ She cocks a brow; a reflex reaction, I think.

  ‘I’d like to think there is. Perhaps, if you’re honest with yourself, you think the same. I want more from you, Louise.’

  ‘You mean more of me?’ She doesn’t seem impressed by my honesty. Does she fear the sudden weight of my words?

  I shake my head a little sadly, glancing around the kitchen as though seeing its condition for the first time. The abandoned dinner dishes. The bottles of wine waiting for recycling.

  ‘It’s such a fucking mess.’

  ‘Hey, I’m not slave material,’ she says, forcing a laugh. ‘I’m not the domestic type.’ I cock a brow, grateful for her making light of things. But more than that, she seemed to be testing the waters. Sounding out my needs. Would she ask me outright exactly where my proclivities lie?

  ‘I don’t mind helping out, maybe loading the dishwasher from time to time, but beyond that, my limits are hard.’

  Good girl. Stop pussyfooting. Ask the questions out loud. But she doesn’t, her eyes falling to her lap where her hands rest.

  ‘I’m not looking for someone service orientated,’ I reply softly, taking one of her hands in mine. ‘I think what you’re asking is if I’m in the market for a sub.’

  ‘So maybe we’re back to my browsing too many dubious websites then, huh?’

  She looks relieved as she stares up at me. The right thing to do at this moment would be to tell her what I actually do for a living. Tell her about the clubs. But then what? Watch the cloud of dust form as she runs? I think there’ve been enough revelations for one night.

  ‘You’ve been ruined by porn.’ I shake my head disparagingly. ‘I don’t want a playmate. Or someone to clean my floor in the buff. But I do want to hurt you. Bend you. Twist your mind and your body. I want to do it all while getting to know you. That’s what I want.’

  For starters, that’d do. Probably still a lot to ask after the past few hours. The rest we’d get to. Hopefully.

  ‘That’s all?’ Sure enough, her reply I almost a rebuke. It’s a lot to take in, for sure.

  ‘Along with regularly fucking you into a state of inexplicable bliss, of course.’

  ‘Of course.’ Along with her smile, her eyes seem to discover some fascination with the kitchen floor. ‘Where do we go from
here, then?’ she asks quietly.

  ‘Given the choice, today I’d continue where we left off. With you on all fours, my darling.’ My fingers find her chin, encouraging her gaze to mine. I push her hair from one shoulder, pulling the strands through my fingers where it shines like the sun. ‘Given time and opportunity, I’d place my hand around your neck . . . just to feel your breath under my palm.’ She swallows deeply as I lay my palm at the base of her neck to reiterate the point. ‘Given your encouragement, I’d peel you out of your clothes, spread you across my knee, and run my fingertips through the slick, pink ribbon between your legs.’ My words were meant to entice, but the images brand my brain. ‘And when you’ve given me everything, my darling, and you’re wrung wet and shaking, I’d make you come on my tongue.’

  ‘But those plans can’t happen today, right?’ There’s hope in her question, though her expression showed she understood our reality as I shake my head. She swallows audibly, the libidinous lilt in her voice clear as she says, ‘So what’s the alternative plan?’

  ‘Date night.’ I cup her face in my hands and rub my thumb across her bottom lip.

  ‘Wine me, dine me, sixty-nine me, huh?’

  ‘It’s like you know me already,’ I reply. ‘Date night. Next Friday, because I’m all about the anticipation.’

  ‘You mean you’re a tease.’

  ‘Darling, you can’t possibly know. But you could definitely find out.’

  ‘If I play my cards right?’

  ‘I’d show you my hand any day of the week.’

  God, if she didn’t like the sound of that. She was probably wet. My hands move to her shoulders, my need burning her skin.

  ‘How much time do we have?’

  My smile slips. ‘Hal’s due to wake any minute.’

  Her responding shrug seems to say that’s okay.

  ‘Date night,’ she says, almost as though trying the phrase out.

  And then I remember something, leaving her side for a moment to pull something from a kitchen drawer. Returning, I lay the small silver box on her thigh, taking one of her hands in mine again.