Unraveled (Undone) (11 page)

He doesn’t break eye contact.

Doesn’t flinch away.

He just breathes in a rhythm that matches my own until I feel almost calm.

The serenity is ripped away by a female voice. “Anything else?”

Both Chad and mine’s head whips to the sound and I see the angel girl from before staring at us. She doesn’t look happy. Chad’s hand falls away and he gives her that all American smile of his. “I think we’re good here, thanks.”

The girl looks from me to Chad, back and forth, until it settles on him. “Can I still show you around?”

Chad tilts his head toward me. “Maybe later, I can’t leave her alone.”

I start to protest, but his hand clasps my bare knee and squeezes. I about jump out of my skin at the contact.

The girl glances at me before offering an overly bright smile. “Maybe later then?”

He nods. “I’ll try and catch up with you.”

“Okay.” She frowns and walks away.

I point after her. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” Chad says.

“You don’t have to babysit me.” I don’t want him to stay because he’s obligated. Because he doesn’t want to leave me alone.

He turns and looks at me, his expression taking on that hard edge I’ve seen Leo, Brandon and Michael wear, reminding me what he is. “If I wanted her, I’d have her.”

He doesn’t seem inclined to elaborate. I try not to think about my relief at his words. I clear my throat and ask before I can think, “You don’t want her? She’s beautiful.”

“She is.” He shrugs and takes a drink. “But I can find a girl like her whenever I want. Don’t worry, by the end of the night she’ll be on to someone else.”

“How do you know?”

“She likes to play as they call it. As long as she finds someone attractive, agreeable, and willing to give her what she wants, she’ll be happy.”

I tilt my head. “How can you possibly know that?”

He winks at me. “I’d love to say it’s some awesome power where I can read a girl’s thoughts, but that would be a lie. I suspected. Brandon confirmed.”

When did they even have that conversation? Because, I can’t recall them talking. It must have been when I was lost in my own head and not paying attention.

I bite my lower lip, pick up a napkin and twist it in my hand. “But still, wouldn’t you rather go have fun than sit here and be bored with me?”

“I don’t find you boring.” He shifts again so he’s looking more fully at me. “And I’m not much for casual play scenes. Honestly,
that’s
what bores me.”

I don’t let on, but I can’t pretend I’m not happy to hear that. I find I don’t want him going off with some other girl. I don’t know why, but it’s true.

He gives me a smirk. “Besides, she picked me because she thinks I’m easy going and I’m not in the mood to disabuse her of the notion.”

The statement is like a jolt of awareness. Nervous, I run a finger over my glass. “I think you’re easy going.”

“I am,” he says, then grins at me. “Until I’m not.”

I shake my head. “I don’t even know what that means.”

He laughs. “Layla told me you sing at The Whisky.”

I blink at the sudden subject change. “Yeah. On Thursday and Saturday nights.”

“Can I come watch you sometime?”

The question startles me and I blurt, “Why?”

“I like music. Layla told me you have a lovely voice and I’d like to hear it.”

“Sure,” I say, the words slow. “I certainly can’t stop you.”

“True.” He meets my gaze again. “But I’d respect your wishes if you didn’t want me to.”

“I’d like that.” To my surprise, I think I would.

“Good.” He pauses, as though thinking of something before he continues, “And, Ruby.”

“Yes?” My voice is a bit breathless.

“I’m not going to leave you here alone.”

I want to laugh it off. Make light of the statement. But something stops me, because his words are a relief. I don’t want to be left alone. I want someone by my side, protecting me from the roller coaster of emotions bombarding me tonight. So I say with complete sincerity, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Oh good,” Brandon says from next to us, having suddenly appeared, “I’m glad you’re both still here. How about that tour?”

Until that moment I hadn’t realized how close I sat to Chad and I jerk away, feeling caught or guilty somehow.

Brandon flashes me a grin.

I do feel better now. Chad helped me and I can only be grateful. I turn to him. “What do you say?”

He smiles. “I’m game.”

“Great.” I slide from my seat.

Brandon hooks his arm into mine.

To my surprise, Chad takes the other arm. I’m flanked by them. My heart does a strange little pitter-patter.

“Ready to explore?” Brandon asks.

I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. I nod. “Let’s go.”

Layla

The door clicks closed, shutting Michael and I into a complete, almost eerie silence.

There’s nothing special about the room, except for its opulence. The lights are low and intimate, and like the space downstairs, it casts a warm glow over the room. There’s a mahogany bed with four carved posts, an intricate, antiqued armoire, and rich hardwood floors.

Michael puts his hands on my shoulders, pushing my hair to one side, before leaning down to kiss my neck. “Remember, this isn’t pass or fail.”

I stare at the bed. “I know.”

“Any hint of panic—at all—we stop.” He runs his hands down my arms.

I nod. Since that night I have suffered from panic attacks. Between therapy, Michael and the support of my family they are much better now, much less frequent, but they still do happen. Sneaking over me out of nowhere and seizing me in their grip.

I have strategies to deal with them, but they are a frightening experience.

I want to believe they won’t affect me, but I can’t be sure. I gulp as nerves slither over me and I remind myself I’m safe with Michael.

He strokes a thumb over the curve of my throat. “I know how bad you want this, Layla.”

I crane my neck to look back at him. “Do you? Want this?”

His unusual hazel eyes that capture me so, narrow. “Not at the expense of your emotional wellbeing.”

He’s too good to me. I reach up and stroke a path down his jaw. “It won’t be. All I want is to be what you deserve.”

He comes to stand in front of me, cups my jaw and raises my chin. “You are, regardless of if I ever tie you up.”

“I understand… I know you mean it, but…” I struggle to explain, to communicate the depth of my feelings for him.

He strokes over my bottom lip. “What?”

I lower my gaze. “You’ve done so much for me.” I take a harsh breath. “Is it so hard to understand I want to give you something of equal value?”

His expression softens, filling with love. “You face your fears every day for me. You’ve forced yourself to heal for me. Do you not understand the value in that?”

I hadn’t looked at it like that. I rise to my tiptoes and kiss his mouth, those cruel lips that have delivered both heaven and hell. “I am trying.”

“Succeeding,” he corrects. Then his hands fall away and he steps back. “So we understand each other.”

“We do.” I lick my lips. “I promise any hint I will tell you, but I want a promise in return.”

“What’s that, sugar?”

I meet his eyes, unflinching and unwavering of what I want from him. “Don’t hold back. Don’t be careful. I don’t want careful. I want you.”

Without a word, he steps back and starts circling me, stalking me like a predator and desire bursts across my skin. He slides his hands down my shoulders, taking the straps along with him, exposing my nipples before skimming up my collar bone to twine his fingers around my neck. “You’re my possession. I own you.”

The words are a drug—made all the more addictive because I believe them wholeheartedly. “Yes.”

He slides his hands down my waist, and palms the curve of my ass, where the marks he left earlier are still sore and tender to the touch. I wince, sucking in my breath against the pain. Then he steps back and nods. “Strip.”

It’s not hard. I’m wearing practically nothing. I let the straps of my dress fall from my wrists and the fabric pools to my feet. His gaze rakes over me, up and down, over and over. He sighs. “You’re so damn gorgeous.”

My heart swells.

“Put your hands behind your head and splay your legs.”

I comply. Tonight, right here and now, it’s not about fighting, it’s about surrender. The air is cool between my legs where I’m already hot and ready for his touch.

“Very nice.” He moves closer, and runs his hands over my nipples, in a slow circular motion, lulling me into a type of hypnotic complacency.

Just as my lashes are starting to drift closed, he pinches the sensitive buds, hard between his thumbs and forefingers, rolling, tugging until my eyes tear with pain.

My belly clenches and I gasp out a strangled breath.

Sometimes I just want to be hurt, and tonight is one of those times.

He lowers his head, lifting one breast to his lips.

I cry out as his teeth bear down. Oh sweet Jesus.

His fingers slide between my legs where I’m already soaking wet. Already longing for him. He rubs my clit.

My legs start to quiver.

My arms burn with the effort to maintain my position.

I think of that first night, when I’d been so terrified of him. Then he’d slipped his hands between my legs to find me wet. He’d almost pushed me to orgasm without even trying.

Just like that night, he pulls back.

I pant up at him.

I’m already needy. Already crave what only he can give me.

His gaze is full of a hunger that matches my own. “You’re a greedy girl.”

I am.

He walks over to the armoire behind me, and I hear the rummaging of stuff before he returns to me with a flogger in his hands. “To warm you up.”

Before I can even get my bearings, he swings like he’s pitching a softball and the leather straps strike between my legs in a harsh blow.

The pleasure and pain rise through me and I groan.

He does it again.

And again.

I scream. The orgasm is barreling in on me. Fast. “Michael.”

“Don’t you dare come, Layla,” he says, his voice hard and unrelenting.

I can’t begin to describe how it hurts and feels good all at the same time. Feathery little stings that caress my flesh. Sensations all mixing together in my head and making me ache.

He flicks the strands once more across my clit and I grit my teeth and try and think of anything but the pleasure rolling through me, threatening to overtake me.

Then, thankfully he moves away from where I’m most vulnerable, striking across my thighs and stomach. Over my breasts and nipples, until I’m hot all over and my skin is blushed with pink.

He drops the flogger to the floor and stalks over to me, sweeping me up and claiming my mouth in a hard, brutal kiss.

He devours me.

His tongue and lips and mouth claiming me with such delicious force I can only succumb to his will.

He pulls away, and takes my arms, bringing them down to my sides. His eyes burn into me. “I can’t wait to fuck this hot, tight cunt of yours.”

My muscles clench in desire.

He moves behind me. “Go to the bed and wait for me.”

On wobbly legs I stand by the mattress and wait. My heart pounding. My body ready.

He returns and, fully clothed, he rubs against my bare back. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” I believe I am, until he holds out the leather straps that will tether me to the bed.

My throat goes bone dry. I’m here, at the point of no return.