London Bound (8 page)

She felt as if all the air had been sucked from her lungs and, as hard as she tried, she couldn’t replace it. His poor sister wasn’t even twenty, he’d said. Basically, the same age as Aaron. Oh, God...

“You didn’t answer me when I asked the other night,” she forced out. “How old are you?”

“I said
fun
, Meg.” He laughed, but when he met her gaze, he instantly sobered. “Why is that so important to you?”

“Because my son the same age as your sister.”

“Yes, my younger sister. My wee baby sister.” He tightened his grip when she tried to pull her hand away. “Meg, does it matter?”

“Yes, it matters!” she cried loudly and nearly died when the pub quieted around them a few moments before conversations resumed.

“Why?”

She leaned forward and carefully kept her voice lower. “It matters if I’ve fucked someone young enough to be my child. How can you not see that? Why would you
want
to be with someone old enough to be your mother?”

“You’re not old enough to be my mum, for fuck’s sake,” he snapped, the first sign she’d seen that he was losing patience with her. “I’m twenty-seven, going to be twenty-eight in two month’s time if that makes a difference to you.”

Somewhat mollified, she opened her mouth to speak, but he kept going.

“I find you attractive and sexy, and when I look at you, the last thing I’m thinking is
mother
. Tell me, Meg—when you look at me, do you see a child?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Then, quit getting hung up on a number. It doesn’t matter.” He cocked his head to the side. “I’m a grown man—have been for a while now—and I’m more than capable of deciding what I want. I thought I was quite clear when we were together before, but let me make sure there’s no misunderstanding or confusion. I want you. I don’t care that you’re forty. I don’t care that you’ve two nearly grown children. That doesn’t matter to me. I just want
you
. Do you understand?”

Meg blinked rapidly and swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Yes.”

“And you want me?”

“Yes,” she said, breath shaky.

“Then, that’s all the matters, love.” He lifted her hand and kissed her palm. “Ah, there’s supper. Finally.”

Another quick buss, and he released his hold just as Georgia set steaming plates and another round of drinks between them. Meg watched as he thanked the other woman and reached for his cutlery. He paused in digging into his meal and looked up to meet Meg’s gaze.

“Should I be expecting any more of these freak outs?”

She stared at him, trying to decide if he was making fun of her, but all she saw in his expression was calm curiosity and acceptance. With a sigh, she reached for her silverware and cut into her fish.

“Probably.”

M
eg poked at the delicious looking fish on her plate, even as her stomach churned. She tried not to obsess over...everything, but it’s what she did. Always. Those she loved put up with it, even teased her about it. However, it wasn’t something she liked people seeing—and Nathan had gotten quite the glimpse of it. Again, she wondered why he wasn’t running in the other direction. He wasn’t, though. Nope, he was sitting there calmly tucking into his meal as if he hadn’t a care in the world, as if she hadn’t just had a mini-meltdown, as if—

“Stop it.”

Her breath hitched at Nathan’s clipped, stern tone.

“S-stop what?”

He lifted a brow, intense gaze fixed on her. “The worrying. There’s no need, love. I’m not going anywhere.”

“So, you can read minds, now?” She carefully picked up her glass and took a drink.

He chuckled. “Don’t need to read minds. Just you.”

Laughing softly, Meg asked, “Are all my secrets that obvious?”

“No, I haven’t sussed them all out, yet. Working on that. Besides,” his foot hooked around her ankle, “you should be focusing on other things.”

“Oh, really? Such as?” She shifted until their feet were tangled together beneath the table.

“Such as finishing your supper so we can go home.” He calmly took a bite and studied her as he chewed and swallowed. “And I can take you to bed and make you scream for me, again.”

“Oh.” She wet her lips, heart hammering as his gaze tracked the movement of her tongue then cleared her throat. “That’s the plan, then?”

“It is, so get to it.” He nodded at the food in front of her.

“Are you going to tell me to clean my plate like a good girl, too?” she joked, trying to keep her excitement under control because if she thought too much about what was coming after, there was no way she’d be able to eat.

Slowly, deliberately, he rested his forearms against the edge of the table and leaned forward. “Would you like me to?”

“No,” she said quickly even as a hot clench low in her belly nearly stole her breath.

“Hmmm.”

He straightened and began eating again, looking at her plate pointedly. When she grabbed a chip and popped it in her mouth, his lips curved. It wasn’t until she’d eaten nearly a third of her food he spoke again.

“Were you Scott’s submissive?”

The fork slipped from her fingers, clattering against her plate. Her chest tightened as her breathing quickened. Nathan, on the other hand, was the picture of cool and collected. His empty dish pushed aside, he sat back, relaxed, waiting patiently for her to answer.

She didn’t have to ask why he’d assume she was submissive—she certainly hadn’t hidden what had turned her on when they were together—just as she didn’t have to wonder if he was a Dominant. It was in everything he did, in the way he drew that part of her out with so little effort.

“Meg?” he prompted when she remained silent.

“No,” she whispered. Then, determined to be as open as he’d been with her, she continued, “Well, not really. We’d explored and experimented, and had talked about taking that aspect of things to the next level, but then he got sick. And, everything else faded to the background.”

She braced herself for the apologies and sympathy that usually came whenever Scott’s death was mentioned, but they didn’t come.

“Is that what you want in this, Meg? In what we have together?”

“It was a part of what we did the other night, don’t think?” She squirmed as she remembered his commands, his bruising grip, the sweet mix of pain and pleasure.

“I’m not talking about a bit of play now and again in the bedroom, love,” he murmured. “I need to know how much, Meg. Is it just a bit of a slap and a tickle you’re looking for? Because I can do that, gladly, but if you want more—”

“You can’t.” She nodded, fear washing over her. “I’m fine with what we did before, Nathan. I don’t need anything more than that.”

“If you want more,” he repeated, slowly, harshly, “I need to know. As I said, I’ll gladly continue as we were, but if you
do
want more,” he hummed low in his throat, “if you want to be my submissive for however long we’re together, that would please me more than you could imagine.”

Oh, God... Meg struggled to breathe evenly, to control her body’s instant reaction to his words. Oh, God... She wanted... She wanted so badly. And, she had no fucking words to express just how much.

Nathan moved to the edge of the bench and, pushing her unfinished supper to the side, grasped her wrist. Pulling gently until she leaned over the table, he lifted a hand to cup her face.

“Will you submit to me?” His thumb skimmed along her cheekbone. “Give yourself over to me, completely?”

Closing her eyes, she turned into his touch. “Please.”

“Oh, sweet girl.” His husky whisper skittered over her nerves. He trailed his thumb down to press lightly on her bottom lip. “As much as I love the sound of that word falling from your lips—and I plan on hearing it again and again, later—I need you to answer. Open those pretty eyes and answer me.”

Meeting his gaze, Meg fought not to cry from the intensity of it all. The want, the need, the anticipation overwhelmed her senses.

Nathan smiled, the gentle quirk of his mouth at odds with the powerful desire in his eyes. “It’s all right to say no. No matter the answer, I’m still here, and I’m still going to make you feel so good.”

That promise—and knowing he was good for it—was almost enough to make her come. Her panties were certainly soaked already.

“I’m not saying no.” She pursed her lips, kissing his thumb. “I don’t
want
to say no.”

Her entire body quaked, and she wished they weren’t in a damned pub, because she wanted nothing more than to climb over the stupid table separating them and climb
him
. Just wrap herself around him.

“I’m still waiting,” he murmured. “I need to hear you say it, love. I need you to—”

“Yes. My answer is yes.” She rubbed her cheek against his palm. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Nathan tugged on her other hand, toward the outside of the booth. She slid across the worn wood and rose shakily. He guided her around to where he turned to sit on end of the bench and yanked her down onto his lap. Her surprised cry was muffled by his mouth. Holding her head firmly, he glided his tongue around hers, a sleek, filthy dance that had her toes curling in her shoes.

“Nathan,” she moaned when he broke away and rested his forehead against hers. “Take me home...please.”

“Let’s go.” He tapped her hip and helped her to her feet.

She grabbed her purse from the other side of the booth then followed him to the bar where he settled their tab—quieting her automatic protest and offer to pay for her own meal with a hard look. It really was fucked up how a look like that could make her legs weak, but then, she figured pretty much everything about this man affected her, so why fight it?

Stepping outside, they walked to their building in silence, fingers linked between them. By the time Nathan unlocked the door to his apartment, Meg was nearly vibrating with nervous energy. She walked past him into the living room and set her purse on the sofa. She didn’t know what to expect, didn’t know what to do...
if
she should do anything. He was in charge, after all. That was what she agreed to, what she wanted.

So, she stood there, in the middle of the room, her back to him, listening to the door close and the lock click then the jangle of keys being set down. Suddenly, Nathan’s arms wound around her waist, and he pressed a kiss just below her ear.

“As much as I want to lose myself in you right now, we need to talk.”

She let her head fall back against his shoulder as his fingers stole beneath her shirt and grazed her bare skin. Her stomach quivered under his light touch, and she turned her face into his neck. Inhaling deeply, she groaned as his scent—
his
scent beneath the light clean hint of the soap he used—teased her senses.

He smoothed his palms up her sides, her shirt rising with his movements.

“Arms up,” he ordered.

She obeyed, lifting heavy limbs, and the garment was swept up and off.

“I thought we were going to talk,” she said with a breathy laugh.

“Oh, we are.”

He dropped kisses along her shoulders as he drew the straps of her bra down. When he pushed his hand between them to unclasp her bra, she looked back at him, questioningly. He held her gaze as her breasts were bared. Instead of cupping them, tweaking the taut nipples as she expected—as she hoped—he reached down and popped the button of her jeans.

“Nathan—”

The rasp of the zipper being lowered was unnaturally loud in the quiet room. Meg shivered as Nathan gripped her hips and began mouthing his way down her spine. His tongue tickled the small of her back as he lifted one foot to slide her shoe and sock off then took care of the other. She wiggled her toes into the plush carpet as he efficiently pulled her pants and underwear down to her ankles—no stopping to tease now, just a quick divesting her of the remainder of her clothes—again supporting her so he could get them completely off.

“Nathan,” she tried again, her voice shaky.

Hands back on her hips, he turned her toward him and nuzzled against her stomach with a happy hum.

“Kneel.”

With a choked whimper, Meg lowered herself to her knees before him. A small smile quirked his lips as he cupped her face, fingers dancing along her skin. He bent forward and brought his lips to hers. She opened for him, swaying closer, anxious for him to take her, claim her. But, then...his mouth was gone.

“Stay here.” He skimmed his knuckles over her cheek before standing.

She frowned when he stepped around her and disappeared. She heard him moving around in the bedroom. He was testing her; he had to be. Seeing if she’d obey him. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly before shifting, widening her knees slightly, into a more stable and comfortable position. Damp palms resting on her thighs, she focused on relaxing every muscle in her body—not as an easy feat as anticipation coiled in her belly and excitement slickly coated her pussy.

She didn’t know how much time passed, and it didn’t matter. All that mattered to her was pleasing Nathan. That thought, that need, consumed her, and soon, she didn’t even hear his movements. She just stayed, waited, as he’d told her to, and imagined the pleasure she’d bring him by obeying him completely.

Nathan’s soft touch—one fingertip skating over her shoulder—sent shivers along her body, which were chased by disappointment as he walked past her to the lone chair in the room.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured.

As he sat, Meg ran her gaze down his body. He’d removed his suit jacket, but not his tie, though that had been loosened a bit. His shirtsleeves were undone and rolled to expose his forearms. He leaned back, and as his knees settled wide apart, her eyes fell to his bare feet watching his toes flex.

“You couldn’t have taken all your clothes off?” She clamped her mouth shut as soon as the question slipped out. Maybe she wasn’t meant to speak. She looked up at his face, trying to gauge if she’d made a mistake, though he hadn’t told her
not
to talk.

His lips twitched. “Eventually.”

She laughed. “Your favorite word to torment me with.”

“Ah,” he tapped his long fingers against the arm of the chair, “but you love the torment, don’t you? And what comes after. You love the...
eventually
.”