WMIS 06 Tied With Me (8 page)

Peaceful.

Suddenly, Matt reaches over and grasps my hand in his, linking our fingers. He doesn’t look down at me, just holds my hand as we watch our city.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Okay, maybe Bailey is right. I need to give this a chance.

Chapter Four

~Matt~

It’s been a long fucking night.

Asher and I caught a case that kept us up all night long, bouncing from the crime scene to the hospital, interviewing family members and speaking with the doctors.

Domestic disputes are rarely this bad, but when they are, it’s exhausting.
 

I arrive home at just before nine Saturday morning. The only thing I can think of is taking a hot shower and climbing into bed, succumbing to oblivion.

I strip my clothes off, leaving a path of dirty laundry behind me on my way to the bathroom. I turn on the shower and step in before the water even has a chance to heat up all the way, scrubbing the night at work off my body. Just as the water hits scalding level, I shut it off, towel myself dry and pad into my bedroom as my cell phone rings.

I scowl when I see Asher’s name on the display.

“Yeah,” I answer and sit on the edge of the bed.

“Hey, I just picked up the cupcakes for Casey’s birthday party tonight, and I thought I should call you.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask, my body already on alert and the fatigue forgotten.

“Nothing’s wrong, but I thought you’d like to know that your girl is swamped in her shop today.”

“My girl?” I ask drily.

“I’m not stupid, man. I don’t know what you have going on with her, but I can tell there’s something there. She’s shorthanded and running ragged today. She seems okay, just thought I’d give you a heads-up.”

“Thanks, partner. I’ll go check on her.”

“See you tomorrow,” he responds and hangs up.
 

I glance longingly at my comfortable bed and resign myself to being awake for a few more hours.

There’s no way in hell that I’ll leave her to fend for herself today. Not if I can help her.

I dress quickly in jeans and a black T-shirt and drive quickly to the bakery.

Sure enough, it takes me five minutes to find parking, and when I finally step inside, there is a line to the door. Nic is smiling widely but clearly overwhelmed, bustling behind the glass case, back and forth between plating cupcakes and ringing up customers.

This is a two-person job.

She hasn’t even noticed I’m here when I slip back into the kitchen and grab a spare white apron, pull it over my head and tie it around my waist.

Oh, we’re going to have fun with her apron very soon.
 

Before I can spend too much time daydreaming of tying her up with her apron and fucking her blind here in her kitchen, I join her behind the counter, startling her.

“Matt!”

“How can I help?” I ask calmly.
 

Her cheeks are flushed and her hands are shaking as she brushes a piece of hair off her face.

“You don’t have to,” she replies but swallows hard.

“Clearly, I do. We’ll talk later, just tell me what you need.” I smile reassuringly and brush her soft cheek with my fingertip.

“Can you fill cupcake orders while I make coffees and ring them up?” she asks.

“I can do that,” I reply.

“I need two minutes,” she informs me and disappears into the kitchen.
 

I’m just filling a white box full of a half-dozen carrot cake cupcakes when she returns, chewing on something.

“Better?” I ask.

She nods and returns to the cash register, attending to her customers. That red ribbon is tied around her head again. It seems to be a part of her uniform. I do believe we’ll find a way to have fun with that as well.

God, she’s fucking beautiful.

We work side by side for the better part of the morning without a break. I can’t believe how busy her little shop is. I grin in pride when an elderly man approaches Nic to ring up his sales.

“My Margaret and I sure do love your sweets, girlie.”

“Thank you, Mr. Larsen. How is your pretty wife?” Nic asks with a grin.

“She’s been a little under the weather, but these will brighten her right up.”

“I hope so,” Nic replies and drops some chocolate-covered cherries into a bag to give to him as well. “These are new. I’d love it if you two would let me know what you think.”

Mr. Larsen winks at Nic and grins before walking out with his purchase.

Nic knows most of her clients’ names and deals with them all with humor and grace.

At two thirty, there is a lull in customers, so Nic slips in the back for a few minutes and returns with more trays of cupcakes to fill empty slots in her case. She has a stick of string cheese hanging out of her mouth, chewing away on it.

“So what happened?” I ask as she arranges the case.

“Anastasia, my other part-time helper, called out sick this morning,” she replies with a sigh. “Tess is in college, so she can’t help during the week. So that left me.”

“Maybe you should hire someone full time to help out,” I suggest, but she glares at me from across the space.

“Trying to tell me how to run my business now, Matt?”

“Hey,” I reply, holding up my hands, “it was just a suggestion.”

“I’m sorry.” She sighs and rubs her forehead with her fingertips. “I haven’t had enough to eat today. It makes me grouchy.”

“You close at four?” I ask. I walk behind her and begin kneading the tight muscles in her shoulders.

“Yeah,” she replies and sighs deeply, leaning against me. “Jesus, that feels good. Why did you come in?”

“Asher called me. Said you were pretty busy, so I decided to come check in on you.”

She spins around, her jaw dropped in surprise. “But he said you two worked all night.”

I smile patiently and step closer to her, needing to be next to her. She smells of vanilla and sugar, and it’s the most alluring smell I’ve ever experienced.

Who knew sugar could be so fucking sexy?

“You needed me,” I reply simply. “And I’ve missed you this week.”

Her green eyes widen, and suddenly she’s in my arms, wrapped around me, hugging me hard. Her head is tucked against my chest, and she turns her face to bury her nose against me while taking a long, deep breath.

“Thank you,” she whispers before pulling back, but I hold her tight and keep her with me for a few moments, giving us both a moment to settle.

“You’re welcome.”

The bell above the door sounds as a customer walks in, and for the next forty minutes—ten minutes past closing time—we are busy with customers again, cleaning out the glass case except for one cupcake.

Nic locks the door, takes a deep breath and laughs. “I can pay you with a crème brûlée cupcake,” she says.

“I’ll split it with you,” I reply.

“Nah, I don’t eat them.” She waves me off after she hands me the cupcake, stacks the trays from the case and carries them into the back.

“Why not?”
 

“Can you imagine if I ate everything I baked?” She laughs and shakes her head. “I’d have to live at the gym.”

“You don’t sample anything?” I ask and take a bite of the cake. Dear Christ, these are amazing.

“Once in a while, if it’s something new,” she replies and pulls her apron over her head, throws it in a hamper and watches me enjoy the treat. “Good?”

“Amazing.”

“I’m glad.” She tilts her head, watching me. “You’re tired.”

“I’m exhausted,” I confirm and swallow the last bite.

“Come upstairs with me.” To my surprise, she holds her hand out for mine and then leads me up to her apartment. “We’ll have dinner and you can crash for a while.”

“I don’t live far,” I respond.

“I would rather you didn’t drive when you’re this tired,” she replies. “Plus, you saved me today, so the least I can do is save you back.”

Save me.

Why do I get the feeling that Nic will save me in more ways than she’ll ever know?

***

“So how did you become a baker?” I ask and take a bite of meat lover’s pizza.
 

We are seated in her living room, shoes off, facing each other from opposite ends of the couch, the pizza box between us.

“I always liked to bake,” she replies. “Couldn’t afford to go to a university and actually, didn’t go to culinary school until I was about twenty-three. I got a job out of high school, partied a little too hard, basically gave my parents gray hair until I pulled my head out and saved my money so I could attend the Art Institute here.”

I nod and stretch my legs out in front of me and rest them on her ottoman. “That’s right, you were rebellious.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?” I reply and grin at her. Which part of me are you asking about, baby?

“How did you become a cop?”

“Oh, that. I did two years in the Army.” I wince and shake my head. “Caleb was much more suited for the military.”

“Don’t like being told what to do, huh?” she asks me with a wink, making me chuckle.

“That wasn’t it, actually. I don’t want to move around all the time. I like it here. I want to be near my family. So, when my two years were up, I came home and worked my way through college and then applied to the academy.”

She closes the pizza box, sets it aside and lays her cheek against the back of the couch, a soft smile on her full lips. If I had the energy, I’d lean over and capture those lips under mine and kiss her mad.

Instead, I pull her feet into my lap and begin to rub the arches of her feet. She sighs and closes her eyes.

“God, that’s nice.”

“Just relax.”

“You should be the one relaxing. You worked all night and then worked all day in my shop.”

“Don’t worry about me,” I reply with just enough of an edge in my voice to make sure she knows I mean it.
 

“What about the other stuff?” she asks softly, and when I raise my eyes from her feet to her face, I see her watching me. I raise an eyebrow, and she snickers. “The ropes.”

“I responded to a domestic violence call in my second year on the force. It happened to be at a local BDSM club, which is actually very unusual, as I’ve come to find out since then.” I pause and check her to make sure that I haven’t already scared her off, but she’s just reclined comfortably, listening, so I continue. “While I was there, I saw someone I recognized and saw that he had tied this girl up in ropes, and I thought it was hot as hell, to be honest.”

She smiles, and for just a moment, I forget what I was saying.

I shake my head and pull her other foot into my lap.

“So, when I saw him a few days later, I asked him about it. It’s called Shibari. It’s an ancient form of Japanese bondage, and this friend is a master.”

“Had you tied girls up before?” she asks softly.

“I’d played with handcuffs before, sure. And restraining a woman was always fun, but once I started learning Shibari, I also learned that it comes with responsibility. Trust.”

“What about the dominant stuff?”
 

“Are you asking just because you’re curious, or have you decided to change your mind about our friendship status?” I ask quietly.
 

Her cheeks flush as she meets my gaze. “I’m not just curious.”

“I need you to say the words, little one.”

“I want to see where this might go,” she admits.

I release her feet and pull her into my lap, unable to keep from holding her any longer, and let’s face it, talking about this stuff is a huge turn-on for me. I settle her against me but arrange her so I can still look in her eyes while I talk.

This conversation could make or break us, and I am not going to fuck this up.

“What are you afraid of?” I ask gently.

She shrugs and looks down, but I catch her chin with the tip of my finger and tilt her head back up.
 

“Talk to me.”

“I don’t like losing control,” she whispers. “I have to have control of my business, my financial life, my health, everything, Matt.”

“Okay.” I nod and push my fingers through her soft, short, dark hair. “What about when we had sex before? Did you hate giving up the control of that to me?”

“No,” she answers, and I grin.
 

Jackpot.

“There are different kinds of Doms, Nic. Some Doms want a full-time sub. Some even have slaves.”
 

She gasps and covers her mouth, her eyes wide in terror.
 

“Not that kind of slave, little one. Everything is always consensual and sane.”

“So these women voluntarily allow someone to call them a slave?” Her brow is pursed in a frown, and she’s suddenly overcome her fear, and curiosity has set in.