Bound by Lies: Bound #1 (Adult Romantic Suspence) (10 page)

I started kickboxing almost five years ago after watching
two guys go at it in a gym. I tried it and loved it. It helped pull me out of
my depression over… Jacob. The things I don’t talk about, even to myself. It
became my way of taking my power back. Back into my own hands and elbows and
knees.

Now it is one of the only constants in my life. When you
have moved around like I have and may need to move again at any minute, trust
me, you need constants, anchors. I have always been able to find a gym to train
in wherever I go. I don’t need special equipment, just me, my fists and my
knees and my legs. It is one of the few things I can take with me anywhere, and
no one –
no one
–
can take it away from me. It is
mine
.

Kickboxing keeps me fit, and I feel stronger for it. And
this feeling of strength has grown thick enough to almost cover up my
ever-present fear. Almost.

I enter the boxing room of the gym and wave to my kickboxing
trainer, Mick. He heads over to me and greets me with a nod. “You look like
shit, kid.”

“So do you, old man.”

Mick holds up a thick rectangular pad about the length of
his torso for me to hit and knee. I start out light with a few warm-up rounds
of well-worn combinations. Left-left-right.

“Elbows in. Guard up, you stinkin’ pansy.” Oh, yeah.
Everyone, meet Michael O’Leary, or Mick for short.

Mick is an Irish immigrant, tall, thick and pale with a
reddish hue to his brown hair. He’s an ex-cop who spends his time between
kickboxing and boxing coaching. Sometimes he moonlights as a private
investigator for one of his other ex-cop buddies. Usually I would be a bit wary
of spending time with a PI, but Mick stays out of my shit and I stay out of
his. I’m pretty sure he’s got problems at home with his wife, or ex-wife, or
something. But I don’t ask and he doesn’t tell.

Besides, I doubt that he would find much on me anyway even
if he did decide to look. I officially dropped off the face of this planet five
years ago.

We move on. Left-right-left-right-uppercut.

“Jesus, is that all you got? My eighty-year-old grandma can
hit harder than you.”

We move on to elbows.

“Drive from the hip. From the hip. This isn’t the fucking
ballet, God damn it.”

I sometimes wonder if he practices his insults at home. I
swear they get more creative the more I train with him. Some days, when I’m
having bad days, his insults make me angry. But then I hit harder and soon I
feel better.

Finally we move on to knees then kicks. My two favorite. I
love kickboxing because it lets me use my legs and knees in a fight. A woman’s
strongest part of her body is her legs. I fucking love my legs for this reason.
In five years my soft twiggy legs have grown toned, curvy and powerful. I’d
like to think that anyone I knew from back then wouldn’t recognize me now.

At the end of our session I am sweaty and grunting with a
kind of happiness as the adrenaline swims through my bloodstream. Mick grunts
and throws a towel at me. “You did alright, kid.”

I nod. In Mick-speak, he means he’s happy with my progress.

Only mornings later I find a letter in my mailbox on my way
back from a quick trip to the corner store. A note? So soon after I just saw
him? I am so surprised, I tear it open as I climb the steps to my apartment.

Shaftesbury Hotel, Tonight 6pm, Suite 413

I frown as I unlock my door, juggling the note, the empty
envelope and the bottle of milk in my other hand. Tonight? He means for me to
meet him tonight?

Inside my apartment the small radio I left on before I
headed out is blaring the news, distracting me; a robbery, another terrorist
bombing in the Middle East, and a young girl was found murdered last night,
shot in the forehead execution style. I flinch and rush to shut the radio off.
No news. I can’t listen to the news.

I turn back to the note Caden left me. Usually the note
arranges the meeting for several days later. He has never sent me a note to
meet him that night. An odd feeling creeps over me. But I push it away and try
to just be happy that I get to see him so soon. I head off to have a shower and
get ready for my lunch shift at work. But this uneasy feeling won’t wash off.

Later that evening I am walking into the lobby of the
Shaftesbury Hotel downtown. It’s one of those grand luxury hotel chains that
made its name in the roaring eighties, their significance diminishing with the
rise of the middle class and popularity of the boutique-style hotels. The lobby
is grand and gilded in a way that seems almost dated now. Too much mahogany and
gold everywhere. Still, the concierge is friendly when I enter the lobby, and he
directs me towards the mirror-paneled lifts with a nod.

Suite 413 is on the fourth floor. The lift door opens onto a
wide corridor paneled in more mahogany and trimmed with delicate Victorian
light fittings. I knock on suite 413, an odd sense of nerves mingling with the
usual rush of anticipation in my veins.

The door opens and Caden appears. The first thing I notice
is the flash of relief across his face before he lunges for me. He grabs me and
pulls me to him without saying a word. His mouth finds mine. His kiss is firm
and intense and his tongue dips hungrily into me. It feels… desperate. Like
this might be the last time we see each other and he is trying to suck every
last drop of happiness that he can from my lips before it’s too late.

Oh God. Something isn’t right.

I pull away. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He latches his mouth onto mine and silences me. But I know
he’s lying.

I am pulled into the suite and the door slams behind me.
Caden won’t tear his mouth from mine or his hands. God, his hands are
everywhere and they are grabby and needy and frantic. All his usual composure –
his control, his desire to draw things out – are gone. Left behind is just
this… this raw need.

Before I can comprehend what is happening, my dress has been
unzipped and yanked off me. He pushes me up against the wall hard. Almost too
hard. He slams forward into me, trapping me. My breath is stolen from the
force. He pushes his face into my neck, forcing my head to tilt back, and
begins to bite and suck so hard that I can feel the flesh underneath his mouth
bruising. He forces a hand in between my back and the wall, and my bra is
stripped from me. His hands dip to my hips–

“Caden, wait.”

My voice seems to reach him and he tenses. I push him back
from my neck so I can see him. I notice his eyes. Undiluted and wild, he can
barely hold my gaze. But there is a pleading, insistent begging. He needs this.
Whatever has happened, he doesn’t need me interrogating him; he needs me to
make it better.

“Have me,” I say.

Relief floods his eyes and he pulls the red silk tie I’ve
only just noticed from around his neck. He crosses my hands over my head and
begins to bind my forearms together. As he raises his arms I smell a hint of
must and sweat. I study him closely as he binds me. What else have I missed?

I notice the bags under his eyes and the stubble across his
jaw. He’s tired. He has barely slept. Perhaps he hasn’t slept at all. He
definitely has gone a day or two without shaving. I want to kiss his face and
his eyes and his jaw, but I don’t move. He looks so stern that I am scared to
show him this tenderness at this moment. My eyes lower. And I notice his button-up
shirt is wrinkled. His shirts are never wrinkled.

What has happened that he would go without sleep? And
without time to shave or change his shirt or shower?

Cade breaks through my thoughts by pressing against me in a
fierce kiss. I feel like I am melting between his hard body and the wall. His
hands slip to my hips. In a single violent move, my underwear is torn from me.
Before I can take another breath my eyes are covered by his large hand and
everything goes dark.

I hear him unzip his pants. Almost instantly I feel Cade
between my legs. His other hand grabs around my ass and he lifts one leg to spread
me. He enters me in one swift push and starts to move furiously inside me.

My body responds with a violent pleasure. My back thuds
against the wall as he grinds into my hips. I can feel his breath coming hot
and fast against my cheek. He has never been so rough with me and it scares me
and thrills me at the same time. I can do nothing except let myself be taken.

Finally, he growls and shudders. He falls limp against me,
crushing me against wall. I can barely breathe, but it feels so amazing. For
once, I feel like I am the one holding him up.

I can feel his chin resting on my shoulder, his heavy breath
blowing hot air around my neck. His hand still covers my eyes, but it’s
starting to slip so that I catch glimpses of light through his fingers.

“It’s okay, Caden,” I whisper. “Everything will be okay.”

Then he jerks back. He lowers my leg to the carpet then
pulls away, leaving me with an aching sense of loss. His fingers leave my eyes
and I blink a few times as my eyes adjust to the light again. I hear a zip and
I am a little disappointed that I didn’t catch a glimpse of him.

I lower my arms from over my head. “Untie me?” I smell his
wood smoke and musk scent mixed with sweat as he steps close to me. Close, but
he doesn’t hold me. He won’t look at me. He tugs at the binds until they
loosen. Caden turns his head from me and steps away. I move my forearms apart
and the ties slide off.

Caden sits on the edge of the bed and pushes his face into
his hands. I don’t have to see his features to know that he is in pain. I can
almost smell the guilt and remorse rolling off him.

What is going on? Are we breaking up? Is this goodbye?

I wrap my arms across my bare breasts. I feel so, so naked.
I grab my discarded dress from the floor and wrap it around me like a towel. I
am terrified, but I have to know what is happening.

I walk on shaky legs over to Caden and lower myself on the
bed next to him. God, what do I say? I want to touch him, but will that make
things worse?

He lifts his head from his hands and pierces me with his
eyes. They are bloodshot from rubbing.

“I’m so sorry, kitten.” He sounds so sad and so, so sorry.

Oh God, he’s going to break my heart, isn’t he? This is it.
The end. This is my punishment for breaking the rules the last time. He has
decided he doesn’t trust me anymore. Each thought is a blade that stabs me in
the belly.

“I…” he glances up, just catching the first tear that rolls
down my face before I turn my head away. “Shit. Are you crying? Fuck.” In my
periphery I see him reach out to touch my cheek but pauses before he does. He
snatches his hand away and makes a grunting noise in his throat and rubs his
face again instead. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

“Please,” I say turning back to him, “I can fix it. Just
tell me what I’ve done.”

His head snaps up. “You? You haven’t done anything. I’m the
one acting like a fucking animal.” His cheeks redden and he looks away. I
realize that he’s embarrassed. “I can’t believe I just mauled you like that.
You didn’t fucking deserve it.”

And it clicks. Caden is upset over how he just acted. “Cade,
it’s okay. I could tell that you needed it.”

His face twists in disgust. “I was so rough with you. God,
the way I–”

“I liked it. Don’t get me wrong, Caden. I love it when you
tease and take things slow, but I enjoyed that, too.”

As he studies me his eyes narrow. I can tell he is looking
for some sign that I am lying to him. “But you didn’t come.”

I smile and test the waters by reaching out for his hand. I
feel relief when his fingers curl around mine. “I’m sure you’ll make it up to
me. We have all night, don’t we?”

“You’re not angry at me?”

“Only if you don’t stop beating yourself up.”

I can see the moment that he starts to believe me. Slowly a
smile stretches across his face. His eyes twinkle as they roam over my body,
covered loosely by my dress held up across my breasts by one arm.
“Conveniently, you are still very naked under there.”

I gasp as his hands strip me of my modesty and push me back
onto the bed. He searches for the silk ties, dropped on the carpet, before he
joins me.

He spends the next few hours or so making it up to me.
Afterwards, I am so detached and floating that I barely connect with this
Earth. I float up on a cloud of bliss, far away from anything and anyone who
wishes me harm. I float, safe, with Caden as my tether.

When I come back to my senses, he has removed my blindfold
and my binds and I find myself tucked back against his stomach and chest. I can
feel the soft toweling of the bathrobe he wears. His arms wrap around me and
his chin rests on my head. It feels so intimate, this kingdom of just him and
me. And I am infused with the confidence that he needs me, too. I realize I am
ready to tell him my secrets if he will tell me his.

“Caden, why were you so upset before?”

He tenses behind me. Then he brushes my arm and I can tell
it’s an unconscious movement, like he is trying to brush it off. “Could you
forgive someone who has to do something bad in order to do something right?”

“You didn’t answer my quest–”

“Please, just answer me.”

I know that he’s talking about himself. He deserves an
honest answer. I knew when I met Caden that he had secrets dark as night. I
remember believing that he was worth saving even if he thought himself beyond
redemption. I still believe that. I do.

“Yes, I could,” I say.

“Could you love that same person?”

I already do. “Yes.”

We both say nothing.

“Go use the shower first,” he says, breaking the thick
silence. His voice sounds uncertain and distant and it echoes as he pushes me
forward across the sheets away from him.

I don’t argue. The rejection stings, and I need some space.
I’m losing hope that Caden will ever open up to me. For the first time ever I
need to get away from him.

The shower pressure in the hotel is good. The hot water
eases over my thoroughly-used body like warm fingers. I have been satisfied
several times, but the combination of the trickling water and the knowledge
that Cade is just a thin wall away from me has me squeezing my legs together to
ease the ache beginning to build there again.

I hate this.

I want him so badly all the time. I feel like a helpless
addict. I can’t live without Caden. I can’t. But… what satisfied me before, no
longer satisfies. What I was prepared to accept before I can’t accept anymore.

I need more from him. From us.

And this terrifies me. Because, if I ask for it, demand it
like my heart wants to, I know he’ll walk away.

I stare up at this wall we have built between us – our own
version of togetherness. If I want to get over it I have to climb it.

I come out of the bathroom, dressed in a newly bought
emerald silk singlet and shorts set. It is two shades darker than Caden’s eyes,
and I want to see his eyes darken to this color when he sees me in it. But he
isn’t looking at me. He is frowning at his phone.

“Is everything okay?”

“What? Oh, of course, kitten.”

But I can tell it isn’t. He’s distracted.

He’s never distracted with me. My gaze burns on the phone
and I stand motionless watching him as he presses a few more keys then slips
the phone into the pocket of his bathrobe. He grabs his bag and clothes and
phone before he brushes past me into the bathroom without even a glance at me.

My eyes widen as I spot his cream pants, forgotten, tucked
among the blankets that are crumpled on the floor near the bed. He never leaves
anything out here with me when he goes into the shower. Never. I’ve checked
before, trying to find some sliver of his life that I could cling onto,
something about him that he refuses to tell me. As soon as he locks the door I’m
going for it. This is a chance for me to glimpse over this wall. A few more
seconds and those pants are mine.

I feel him grab my waist, startling me – I hadn’t noticed
him coming out of the bathroom. My heart lurches in my throat. Shit. He has
remembered his pants. He saw me looking at them.

When I turn my head to look at him, he isn’t looking at his
pants, he is looking at me.

“I just need to tell you how beautiful you look.” He draws
me in for a deep kiss that I feel all the way down to my toes. I feel instantly
guilty for wanting to pry into his life. When he releases me, my head is
floating. Caden smiles at me one more time before disappearing into the
bathroom.

No, don’t do it. Leave it alone,
I tell myself as I
fall into bed.

Click.

I flinch as the door locks behind him. He locks it every
time and won’t let me in. I tried to surprise him once by sneaking in on him in
the shower, but the door was locked. It’s always locked. He always locks me
out. And the noise is like a switch that flicks off the guilt.