Bound for Nirvana: (The Bound Trilogy Book 3) (23 page)

Of course. That was the reason Adam and Aaron didn’t appear in any of the photographs. When I was with the Wildes, they were home with Mom and Dad.

As if she thought this realization might upset me, she added, “Your mom only ever did what she thought was best for you all. More than anything, she wanted you to be happy. You were her life.”

Suddenly, I felt overwhelmingly exhausted, the mind spinning revelations of the day finally taking their toll. My eyes began to grow heavy with the comforting warmth from the fire and the hypnotizing, flickering flames. Veronica continued to smooth back my hair, her light-fingered touch, soothing and calming and assuring—the touch of a mother.

The last thing I remember before sleep engulfed me was a thought entering my mind. A thought, that despite my fatigue, I felt compelled to voice. The words left my mouth in an almost incoherent mumble. “Sometimes, I think I can smell her.”

I woke with a start, sitting upright in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, and for several terrifying seconds, the panic from my nightmare fused with reality.

As my eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, and my pulse rate slowed to a steady, normal rhythm, I began to recollect the day’s events, becoming slowly mindful of where I was.

Ethan’s mom and dad’s house. Of course.

Looking down at the space beside me, I found Ethan sleeping peacefully, his beautiful, thick lashes fanned out on sculpted cheeks, his breathing deep and measured, and I thanked God he was mine.

Not wanting to wake him, I moved slowly, shifting to the edge of the large bed and lowering my feet into the plush, deep carpet. Quietly, I made my way through the room to the adjoining bathroom and gently closed the door behind me. Above the vanity unit was an oval mirror with a light above. I reached up and switched it on.

Jeez! The dream had left me looking drawn, haunted. My face was damp with a layer of sweat, dark smudges under my eyes from left-on mascara. I never slept in my makeup, even after drinking too much; I would always take care to remove it. I must have been exhausted.

I remembered falling asleep, my head in Veronica’s lap, safe and contented as I snuggled up on the patio sofa in front of the chiminea. And I vaguely remembered becoming aware of Ethan’s scent and burying my head into his shoulder as he lifted me into his arms and carried me up the stairs.

Glancing down at just my bra and panties, a ghost of a smile played on my lips. Ethan must have undressed me. I removed my underwear, hating the way they made me feel restricted. Then, turning on the faucet, I splashed some welcomed, cold water on my face, rinsing away the fine sheen of perspiration and makeup, and grabbed a towel to pat my face dry.

The dream had left me feeling unsettled. It had been profoundly puzzling and disconcertingly realistic. My head felt like it was filled with cotton candy, and I knew if I went back to bed now I wouldn’t sleep. I needed some air.

In the bedroom, I found Ethan’s discarded shirt and pulled it on. Then, as quietly as possible, I unlocked the door to the balcony and crept outside. The moon was full, the bright, silver light illuminating the sky and lighting up the garden below. Unlike Manhattan, where the noise never died, it seemed like the world had gone to sleep. Relishing the simple silence, I leaned my hands up against the balcony guard and breathed the night air in deeply, hoping to cleanse my senses and dispel the lingering images from the dream.

“Angel?” Ethan’s low, slightly worried tone sounded from behind me. He stepped out onto the balcony wearing just a pair of lounge pants, his hair sexily disheveled from sleep. “What are you doing out here, baby girl?”

“I needed some air,” I breathed as his arms circled my waist.

“Did you dream?” His hand moved to gather my hair from where it stuck to my still-clammy skin, and then he leaned in to kiss me lightly.

I nodded, but not wishing to talk about it, said simply, “It’s so peaceful here.”

Smiling, his eyes narrowed as if contemplating something. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

Taking my hand, he guided me back into the bedroom, pausing briefly to grab something I couldn’t see from his overnight bag and plunging it into his pocket. Then he pulled on a T-shirt and grabbed the fur throw that had covered me earlier, draping it around my shoulders. We left the room, running quietly down the stairs and through the house to the large family kitchen.

“Where are we going?” I asked in a low whisper as he unlocked the door, and after pulling on a pair of what I assumed were his father’s boots at the door, tugged me outside.

“You’ll see,” he said, glancing down at my bare feet and suddenly scooping me up into his arms.

“Ethan!” I stifled a giggle as he set off, practically running across the vast lawn, past the pagoda and through a small, wooden gate in the middle of a large brick wall, which I vaguely remembered from our walk earlier. On the other side it seemed suddenly darker, the path leading off into a large, densely wooded area, and my grip around his neck tightened. “Ethan, I’m not sure I like this. Where are we going?”

He adjusted his hold, pulling me into his firm chest, his strong, taut arms surrounding me protectively. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got you. There are no werewolves out here.”

I stared at him with horrified, wide eyes before glancing up at the huge, round full moon disappearing from view as we entered the thick cluster of woodland. Ethan’s momentum slowed to a cautious walk as he navigated his way through the damp carpet of moss, branches, leaves, and tree roots. I jumped at the sound of a loud, raucous cry coming from somewhere in the distance, my head swiftly turning toward the unseen source, eyes straining to see through the shadows.

“What was that?” I whispered, silently likening the sound to that of the mythological werewolf.

“An owl.” He chuckled softly. “Stop panicking. We’re here.”

I turned back to face the direction we were heading in time to see the night light up again as we left the cover of the forest trees behind. In contrast to the dark murkiness we’d emerged from, the moonlit space out in front was almost blindingly bright. It took me a while to compute, momentarily puzzled by a second streak of light which seemed to illuminate from the ground. The woods had opened out into a clearing, the grass underfoot becoming lush and green as it curved slightly down the banking to the edge of a lake.

My mouth opened into the shape of an
O
, my eyes as round as saucers as I took in the beauty before me. The water was motionless in the tranquil, breezeless night, the moonlight reflecting perfectly—almost like a painting.

“Now that’s peaceful,” Ethan breathed.

“Oh, E.” I gazed in awe at the breathtaking vista, made all the more wonderful by the tranquil stillness and the nocturnal solitude.

Ethan moved, treading carefully down to a small timber jetty sticking out into the water. Moored at the side was a rowboat and as I looked up into his mischievous face, his intentions became abundantly clear. “Yes?” he asked hopefully.

I glanced down at the boat, a blend of nerves and excitement fluttering in the depths of my belly. I nodded. “Yes.”

Gently lowering me to the jetty, he helped me step down into the boat. He followed me quickly, settling me onto the rear thwart at the stern and pulling the fur throw tighter around my shoulders before untying the mooring. He pushed away from the jetty and settled into the center thwart to take up the oars.

Releasing my hold on the throw, I leaned slightly to the left, dangling my hand over the side to trail my fingertips in the chilled water. The action of the oars pushing away the water provoked a faint dimpling of the surface as it undulated across the lake to the bright light of the reflected moon.

“What are you smiling at?” Ethan asked suddenly, nodding once to indicate the unmoving beam stretched across my face.

I shrugged, whispering, “I can’t believe we’re here in a rowboat in the middle of a lake on your parents’ estate in the middle of the night.”

“Why are you whispering?” he said, mimicking my low tone.

Pausing a few seconds for thought, I answered, “I don’t want to wake the night. It seems… disrespectful to disturb it.”

Suddenly, Ethan stopped rowing and gazed at me with reverence, his countenance morphing quickly to one of desire as his gaze dropped to where the throw and the shirt had slipped to reveal the bare skin of my shoulder. A frisson of excitement sparked within me as I decoded the unspoken message in his heated scrutiny. I knew exactly where that look was leading.

“Show me.” It was demand laden with desire.

Slowly, I shrugged off the fur throw, allowing it to pool in a heap on the seat surrounding me, my fingers moving to begin the slow, deliberate process of unbuttoning the shirt. Ethan watched my every move, his lips parting slightly, eyes growing heavy beneath hooded lids. When I reached the bottom button, I allowed the shirt to fall open, revealing the valley of my breasts. His nostrils flared with his growing need for more, his single, barely discernible nod urging me to continue. I pushed the shirt off my shoulders, catching it in the crook of my elbows and exposing my bare breasts to the cold night air. My nipples peaked, projecting hard and firm like the summit of a mountain, the tight, contracting sensation sending ripples of desire straight to my sex.

Biting down on his lip, Ethan’s gaze traveled lazily from my breasts and down my torso to my firmly clasped thighs and knees. He nodded once, the tacit instruction causing my breath to catch, my sex suddenly inundated with evidence of my arousal. I licked my lower lip and blinked slowly in an attempt to focus, the increasing ache in my core becoming rapidly beyond a distraction. Moving my hands down my thighs to my knees, I began to push them apart, slowly unveiling my hidden, pulsing treasure at the apex of my thighs.

Ethan’s left arm shifted, moving the oar through the water to alter the angle of the boat. Then using both arms, he pulled once, twice, until the boat was submerged in the stream of moonlight, my naked skin illuminated under the spotlight. Breath hissed from his lips, his burning gaze colliding with my saturated, shimmering sex.

“I love how you respond to me, Angel. The way you look right now, all wet and glistening in the moonlight…” He shook his head. “It’s an image too fucking sexy for my mind to conjure even in its wildest dreams. What I wouldn’t give for one of your cameras right now so I could capture this vision forever.”

Suddenly, he moved to secure the oars and shifting, dropped to his knees in front of me. I groaned with anticipation of his touch, my chest heaving in time with the frantic beating of my pulse. He reached out and tentatively circled my sodden opening with the tip of a single finger. I closed my eyes with gratitude, the mere contact a reprieve from the pent up hunger inside me. Shunting forward, I tilted my pelvis, unashamedly searching for firmer friction as he spread my warm moisture over my sex, and then to my utter dismay he was gone.

My eyes sprang open as I watched him stand, being careful not to rock the boat, and pull his T-shirt over his head. Then, in one swift movement he pushed his lounge pants over his hips, his impressive erection bounding free from the delicate material. Kicking off the boots and stepping out of the pants, he lowered back down to his seat, his hand closing into a tight fist around his pulsing shaft. A glimmering bead of arousal leaked from the slit of his swollen crest as his hand shimmied up his length to massage the sticky substance into his taut skin. The vision was impossibly arousing, and I found myself groaning at the responding ache in my trembling sex.

“Come here,” he commanded.

Moving swiftly but steadily toward him, I reached to take his proffered hand, his other guiding my legs one at a time over his seat and lowering me into his lap. I reached down in between us, continuing where he’d left off by closing my fist around his cock and gently milking him to draw the slippery, shiny liquid to the surface. He rewarded me with a low, throaty groan as a large droplet oozed from the slit, and I began to rub it around his bulbous head, my mouth watering in delicious anticipation.