Page 133 of Easy
Opening my mouth to protest, to stop this from progressing—for the child, for myself—he silences me, covering my mouth with his.
His kiss is full of regret. A kiss that’s slow, one that heeds my goodbye. It’s with sadness that I allow myself to go with it until, languidly, his mouth pulls away.
‘Bondage comes in all shapes and forms.’ His eyes are dark depths and level with mine. ‘What holds you down is being tied to the belief that what you enjoy is wrong.’ I open my mouth to protest, to tell him his lie of omission was worse than my hiding, whichever way you cut it. Perhaps reading my expression, he places a finger across my lips. ‘We need to discuss that.’
For a reason I can’t currently fathom, I allow him to pull me to the window seat.
‘I didn’t tell you I have a son, but try to see it from my point of view. I’ve met this girl who is fabulous. Smart and gorgeous. But she’s also a bit of an enigma. Initially, she didn’t even want to know my name.’
‘I thought guys found that hot.’
‘Until they want more,’ he says, scratching his neck. ‘Getting information out of this girl is like extracting blood from bricks. Even when she’s a little drunk.’ He smiles, but I find I can’t return the expression, beyond feeling the corners of my mouth twitch. ‘Except, that is, when she’s full of post-coital bliss. Can’t get her to keep quiet then.’
I narrow my gaze and try to cut in as his hands grip mine a little more tightly.
‘That’s the only time I learn anything about you, apart from when we’re fucking, but that’s not the same. It doesn’t allow me the way in.’
I open my mouth to protest, but no sound comes out. I know he’s read me right. Repressed doesn’t even cover it. Scared, too.
‘Put yourself in my shoes; you’re about twenty-three?’
‘Six.’ I clear my throat, the word hitting the air as a squeak. ‘I’m twenty-six.’
‘I’ve got almost ten years on you. You’re not from here, and there’s every chance you won’t be here for long. You don’t want to talk, and I didn’t want to frighten you off. And, technically speaking, this is our first date. Maybe I was just working up to it.’ His attempt at humour falls very flat. He pulls his hands through his hair before resting elbows on knees. ‘I’m extremely proud of my son. I wouldn’t have chosen for you to meet him tonight nor under these circumstances, but I wasn’t hiding him. More like trying not to frighten you off.’
For lots of reasons, none of them about me, I allow him to pull me into his arms.
‘Don’t go like this, disappointed and angry. I’ve got what you want. Just give me some time. Let me put things right.’
The fight leaves my body like a puppet with cut strings. I’ve no idea what the future holds, and nowhere to go from here. But for now, I’m right where I want to be.
Chapter Nine
DAN
I wake shivering from the cold with my back pressed against the cool, damp window. Lying on my side and painfully compressed, my brain is slow to realise I’m curled in the window seat. I stretch the stiffness in my legs but am prevented from moving more than an inch by the wall at my feet, my knees uncomfortably bent but, thankfully, still fitted behind Louise’s. I thank God and divine providence that she’d stayed. Unlike last time. And wonder if it has anything to go with the way my arms seemed to have remained wrapped around her all night. Smiling, I breathe deep the scent of her hair, uncomfortable but content with this girl in my arms as the morning stirred, sunlight stealing across the room like a thief.
It’s strange how it feels like she belongs here. Like this is right. Can a person fall that quick? And would she want me when she knew all my secrets?
I was wrong not to tell her about Hal in the first instance, but in my defence, we have spent most of our time together playing and fucking.That’s where the interest lies.I consider the thought, discarding it. I’ve fucked enough women to know what we have here is the beginnings of something else.But what if she isn’t interested beyond the casual?Another thought I send on its way, tightening my arms across her waist. Her shoulder rises and falls in a steady rhythm, and I resist the urge to bury my head in her hair. To kiss her neck. To rouse her from sleep, to stir her to consciousness beneath me. But there was Hal, in the back of my mind and in another room. Poor boy had enough issues from the divorce without walking in on his father balls deep in his new “friend”. Because, ultimately, I know that’s where kissing Louise would lead to. Especially given what we’d left unfinished since Hal interrupted us last night.
My cock twitches at the thought, belying my body’s physical discomfort, and I wonder, not for the first time, how anyone would relish being trussed in awkward positions for any length of time. Would the aches make me think twice before tying up Louise, or anyone else, for that matter? Probably not. My thoughts are wry.Each to their own kink.
A creaking floorboard sounds from the other side of the kitchen; the French doors. It could only mean one thing.
My former wife and darling. The woman I could quite happily strangle some days. Belle.
I close my eyes, feigning sleep as my ex’s footsteps pad lightly against the floor. When they stop quite suddenly, I open one eye. It was absolutelyworth being squashed against the damp glassjust to see her expression. A taste of her own medicine was only part of what she deserved.
She looks... horrified.
Her eyes roam and travel over our entwined bodies, her expression morphing from distaste to distress. Turning swiftly on her toes, she opens a nearby cupboard, realising she’d been caught as her gaze reaches my face.I wonder what she saw there?No expression I’ve worn of late, I’m sure.
I rest the back of my head against the glass, eyes cast to the ceiling, wondering what the tiny but beautiful malevolent devil would do next.Slowly disengaging myself from the warm body beside me, I climb over the warmth of her body, resisting the kiss to her head. But the last thing I want is for her to wake to this awkwardness. Bad enough I’d sprung Hal on her last night. My foot hits the floor with athump, and I thank the heavens she’s still asleep.
‘What are you doing here, Belle?’ I ask wearily. Leaning against the island bench, I rub a hand across my face, sliding them into the pockets of my jeans. Probably to stop them from propelling her through the door.Play nice, I remind myself.It’s not worth the grief to be anything else.
‘Would you believe I came to borrow a cup of sugar?’ The levity in her voice is as empty as the sugar canister she holds in her hand. ‘Besides, you have my son.’ She doesn’t turn around, one hand clutching the open cupboard door as she begins moving the contents around with her other hand. Seeking, stalling, her hand shaking.
