Bound to Them (3 page)

“I hurt him. He may not listen.”

Joe snorted. “Dude, when have you ever let that stop you?
You’re the most stubborn, ornery bastard I know. Just don’t take no for an
answer.”

“Yeah. You’re right. I’ve just got to do one thing first.”

“What’s that?”

“Apologize to Kayla and explain everything to her and Luke
and Cord.”

“Yeah, well, wouldn’t hurt to have a shower and a shave as
well. Man, I love you, but you look like shit.”

Quinn smiled at his twin. “Thanks, brother.”

One month later

Nash watched Crista Grayson stride across the yard. As she
stopped to talk to one of the men, she smiled and his dick went into overdrive.
Shit, he had it bad. She folded her arms over her chest, pulling the baggy
t-shirt tight across her breasts. What he wouldn’t give to strip that shirt and
those oversized pants from her body and lick every inch of her silky skin.

This attraction wasn’t wise. He wasn’t even sure what drew
him to her, but anytime she came close his body went into high alert.

Damn it. He’d been working for Grayson & Sons
construction for nearly three weeks now, and his interest in Crista grew with
each day that passed.

He shifted, trying to ease the uncomfortable ache in his
balls as she stepped into the ramshackle trailer she used for an office.

Christ, he had no business looking at her. No business
thinking about her at all.

She was his boss’s sister. She was sweet and innocent.

And he loved another. Yep, he definitely had no right to
dream about pushing her up against the closest wall and fucking her brains out,
or ordering her to her knees and taking her mouth with his dick.

He should stay far away from Crista Grayson. She wasn’t the
fuck ’em and leave ’em type. She was a love ’em and marry ’em girl. And Nash
wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t over Quinn, wasn’t ready to trust his heart to
anyone else.

Nash wished to hell he’d chosen another town, another crew
to sign on with, because working with a permanent hard-on was hell.

Crista stared out the small, dusty window, watching as her
newest employee helped carry a sheet of ply, his muscles rippling.

Really, who could blame her?

She plopped down on the seat behind her and pressed her
thighs together, uncomfortably aware of the moisture pooling in her panties.
The temperature was heading up into the 100’s, unusually high for a Utah
summer, and a lot of the crew had stripped down to tank tops. Their bare,
muscular arms gleamed in the sunshine.

Yet none of them stirred her the way Nash did.

Picking up a piece of paper, she fanned herself. She needed
to get some work done. She spent too much time daydreaming about Nash Taylor.
His body. His ruggedly handsome face. Even his crooked nose intrigued her. And
he had the ability to turn her mind to mush—her clit would throb, her body
heating. When he fixed those baby-blue eyes on her, she felt as though she were
the only woman in the world. It was an incredible feeling.

And she bet he barely even knew she existed.

Crista knew she would never turn heads with her looks.
Short, dumpy and plain, that was her. Well over six feet, Nash loomed over her
own five foot two, although he never used his height to intimidate her the way
some of the other guys did.

He could have his pick of women.

Oh well, at least she could look all she wanted, even if
she’d never be able to touch.

She jumped as the phone rang.
Shoot, time to get back to work.
Crista grabbed the phone. “Hello, Grayson & Sons.”

The family construction business had been set up by her
great-grandfather Jonathan Grayson. Ownership passed to each successive oldest
son. When their father died of a heart attack a few years ago, her brother Doug
took over the business.

“Hey, Crista, it’s me.” She could barely hear her brother’s
voice over the loud music in the background. He had to be in a bar, even though
it was only two in the afternoon.

“Doug,” she said sharply. “Where are you? You said you’d
come in today. The project manager was here earlier.”

“Sorry, honey. Been busy. I knew you’d handle everything.”

For once she wished someone else would be responsible so she
could spend all day drinking. Okay, maybe not drinking. She didn’t react well
to alcohol. But running a construction site wasn’t her dream job. She’d much
rather be putting her degree in English to good use.

“Listen, honey, I’m sending you a new worker.”

“What?” she asked, certain she’d misheard.

“Just met him. Good guy. Plenty of experience. Do your thing
and set him up, will you? Thanks.” Before she could protest, he’d hung up.

“Goddamn it, Doug,” she groaned. “That’s great. Just great.”

Sure, if they had some more help they could get the job
completed quicker. Yet they didn’t have another job lined up after this one.
She didn’t want to take on a man only to have to let him go in another month or
so.

Hopefully this guy wasn’t looking for long-term work. Not
all the men would move on with them. Some were locals they’d hired when they’d
arrived. Three of their crew had been with Grayson & Sons for years, and
Crista worried about how she’d pay their wages once they finished this job.

Her cell phone beeped. Picking it up, she smiled as she read
the message from her friend Trudy. Crista didn’t know what she’d do without
Trudy. When Crista had been at her lowest, confused and scared after what
Andrew did to her, it was Trudy who’d dragged her back into the real world.
She’d even gone so far as forcing Crista to join a support group.

Crista had tried to refuse, not wanting to sit around in a
circle and explain that her boyfriend had tied her up and beaten her because
she’d asked him to. She’d soon realized it wasn’t that sort of support group.
For a start, each meeting involved wine or vodka or some powerful punch. And
the women didn’t sit around staring at each other, they lazed, they slumped,
they laughed and ate and drank. And boy, were they dirty.

All of them had one thing in common—an interest in BDSM.
Some were already active in the lifestyle. Others were just feeling it out.
Some, like Crista, had been abused and were scared to trust someone to dominate
them again. Most of the group were remarkably candid about their situation. A
lot were submissive in the bedroom—some were full-time slaves. There were even
a couple in ménage relationships.

It had been a relief to find she wasn’t alone, that her
desires weren’t weird. And that she wasn’t the only person to fantasize about
having a man control her in the bedroom.

And some of the stories she’d heard…
Wow.
Crista
didn’t realize such things went on outside of fiction. Some of their sexual
encounters made her seem like a nun. The memory of Anna’s threesome story still
made her hot. As did Jody’s story about how her boyfriend made her wear a
vibrating egg the first time she met his family. He, of course, kept hold of
the remote.

She hadn’t seen the group in ages. Oh, she used to Skype to
participate in the meetings, as many of their members did from all over the
country. But it wasn’t the same as actually being there.

Coming to work with Doug and her father hadn’t been her
choice. But with her father’s deteriorating health and Doug’s growing reliance
on alcohol, she could do nothing else. Loyalty to her family demanded that she
help out.

Crista wished Doug would take jobs closer to their hometown,
Sacrifice. She missed her small house. Being around strangers made her anxious.
Only in Sacrifice did she feel truly happy. At home, people accepted her for
who she was.

Working out-of-state meant they had to hire men she didn’t
know—men who didn’t always like having a woman giving them orders. If only Doug
would spend more time on-site. Instead he was becoming more and more absent.

Crista chewed her lip as she stood and stepped out of the
trailer. A bright-purple Jeep Cherokee pulled up. A wide-shouldered man in a
tight white t-shirt and dark jeans stepped out. Mirrored sunglasses hid his
eyes as he looked around. He stilled, his attention caught. Crista turned to
see Nash standing by a stacked pile of timber, drinking from a water bottle.

Weird. Why would he be staring at Nash?

Crista turned back to the stranger, shocked to find his gaze
now firmly centered on her. He started toward her, his stride determined.
Crista swallowed heavily. This was not a man to be messed with. The closer he
got, the more intimidating he grew.

He stopped a few feet away. Pulling off his sunglasses, he
ran his amber gaze over her body. Butterflies flew through her stomach as her
nipples hardened. His lips twitched.

Oh hell.

“Hello.” His low, deep voice sent shivers through her.

She stared at him for a long moment, taking in his muscular
frame, his short, dark hair and lightly tanned skin. With a jolt of
embarrassment, she realized he was waiting for her to talk. Blushing, she
rubbed her hand against her thigh. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“You must be Crista.” His gaze ran over her and seemed to
find her lacking. Crista threw back her shoulders—no way would she let this man
intimidate her. She’d faced down worse.

“Your brother sent me. He said to check in with the foreman.
Can you point him out to me?”

Crista sighed, realizing who he was. “Yeah, look, I’m not
sure what Doug told you, but I’m the person you need to talk to.”

“You’re in charge?” he asked.

Great, he was one of those. An idiot male who didn’t think a
woman could run the show. Well, she could. She might hate confrontation but she
stepped up to the challenge anyway. “You got a problem with that?” she asked,
folding her arms over her chest.

He quirked one eyebrow. Crista held his gaze through sheer
force of will.

His gaze dropped to her lips and she suddenly realized she
was licking them nervously. She immediately pressed her lips together. She
didn’t owe him any excuses. Although she might hate being in charge, she didn’t
let that stop her from keeping this company going.

“No, I have no problem with that,” he said smoothly.

“Our foreman Pete had to leave suddenly. If you have any
questions, come to me or Roger, who I’ll introduce you to. He’s second in charge.”

Thank God for Pete. He’d worked for them for years and knew
the business inside and out, looking after the men while she concentrated on
the bookwork. But Pete’s wife had been in a car accident and he’d flown home
yesterday to look after her. Until he returned, Crista was on her own.

“No problem,” he replied easily with a slight grin. “Doug
just never mentioned his foreman wouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah, well, Doug often doesn’t think of the small things.
Like the fact that we don’t actually need another worker,” she muttered.

“Well, Doug already hired me. He said he’s the owner. Is he
wrong?” He stared down at her steadily, his voice filled with self-confidence,
almost daring her to turn him away.

She sighed. “No, he’s not wrong. Okay, I guess you’ve got a
new job. I can’t guarantee you work beyond this job though. We move around a
bit, and I’m not sure where we’re going next, so I can only hire you on
temporarily.”

“That’s fine.”

“Well, come on in, we’ll get your paperwork done. Umm, were
you planning to start today?”

“I thought I might as well. That a problem?”

“No.” She looked him over. His clothes, while simple, seemed
expensive. And white wasn’t the best color to wear on a building site. Boy, she
hoped he actually did have some experience.

“I’ve got a change of clothes.” The skin around his eyes
crinkled as he smiled.
Wow.
Her clit danced a little jig. His smile
changed his face from coldly handsome to downright sexy.

Blushing again as she realized she’d been staring, Crista
turned to walk into the trailer. “Oh, well, umm, good. After you fill out this
paperwork, I’ll show you around, and then you can get started.”

Nash glared over at the trailer as Crista and Quinn
disappeared inside. What was Quinn doing here? Nash tried to concentrate on his
work as his mind whirled. What the hell was going on? Grinding his teeth, he
realized he could do nothing but wait. Fifteen minutes later, Quinn strode out
of the trailer.

Ignoring the rush of blood to his cock, Nash walked over to
where Quinn stood, searching through the back of his Jeep.

“Nice Jeep, but a bit out of place here, don’t you think?”
Nash drawled, coming to a stop behind the other man. Damn, he had the finest
ass Nash had ever seen.

Quinn turned. “I had to fly into Las Vegas and I was in a
rush. This was the best I could do.”

“In a rush? Why? Just what are you doing here, Quinn?”

Quinn stared at Nash, his gaze almost hungry. “I work here.”

Nash’s jaw dropped. “Like hell you do.”

“The paperwork I just signed says otherwise.”

“How?”

“Well,” Quinn drawled, “I found myself bored and hot today,
so I went to the local bar to cool off. That’s where I met Doug Grayson. And
wouldn’t you know it, he offered me a job.”

“You bastard. How the hell did you figure out where I was?”
Nash knew Quinn had deliberately searched out Doug Grayson, more than likely manipulating
him until the other man thought he was offering Quinn a job.

But why?

“I searched through Kayla and Cord’s home computer. Your
email was still in their inbox.”

Damn, he should have called Cord rather than emailing him,
but he hadn’t been ready to talk to anyone.

“You’re terrible with computers,” he said suspiciously.

Quinn flushed slightly. “All right, so maybe I distracted
Kayla while Joe did some searching.”

Yeah, that was more like it.

“What about your business in Seattle?” Nash demanded. Quinn
and his brothers ran their own construction business.

“I took some leave. I need to talk to you.” His gaze grew
intense, focused.

“You wanted to talk to me so you manipulated Grayson into
giving you a job? Don’t you think that’s overkill?”

“You wouldn’t answer my phone calls. I figured you’d turn me
away without listening. So I decided to make it impossible for you to ignore
me.” Quinn wasn’t a man used to hearing the word no.

Nash felt torn. His head told him to push Quinn away. But
the rest of him wanted to pull the other man close and never let him go, no
matter what heartbreak he might end up suffering. “Well, you were right. I
don’t want to talk to you.” He forced the words out, even as his heart screamed
with pain. “So get lost.”