Page 1 of Bind Me
Chapter One
Beatriz Cruz had every intention of being good.
Then Rafael Griffin walked into her kitchen, and self-control filed for resignation, effective immediately.
Her fiancé came bearing croissants and coffee and that aggravating restraint he’d adopted since they’d agreed to abstain until the wedding. He set the paper bag on the counter with exaggerated care, then reached past her for a glass of water, his triceps brushing against her arm.
It was lingering, not to mention unnecessary. And absolutely deliberate.
Bea’s mouth made an executive decision. She reached for his nape, pulled him toward her, rose up onto her toes, and kissed him.
His chest expanded under her palm, the tension there unmistakable. The knowledge that he was holding himself back took hold, bright with thrill and edged with warning. Strong fingers slid into her hair, firm at her scalp. His other arm came down beside her, boxing her neatly against the counter as if the kitchen had been designed for this exact misjudgment.
It might have begun with her, but Rafael took control the moment their mouths met, turning her impulse into somethingfar more consuming. His body pressed close enough that she felt what he wanted. The answering ache low in her body was insistent.
When he finally pulled away, they were both breathing hard, his grip still threaded through her hair like he wasn’t ready to let go. Her dress was damp where his body had pinned her.
“That,” she managed, “must be against the rules.”
His green eyes lit with trouble. “You sure you want me to follow the rules?”
Her knees nearly dissolved. “That’s what we agreed.”
“Then stop looking at me like you’re asking for something else.” His forehead hovered close. Like if she asked, he’d break the rule for her. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
Every cell answered ‘yes’ in full-volume harmony. Her mouth, which had switched sides again, answered, “No.”
Three days down, sixty-seven to go. Who’d suggested this madness?
Oh, right.She had.
Because, to her own consternation, she contained a deeply inconvenient streak of old-fashioned romanticism. The kind that wanted the wedding night to mean something extra. The kind that held out for symbolism. It sounded beautiful…right up until it wasn’t.
“How do you want to handle the engagement announcement?” he asked, his hand sliding down to cup her cheek, broad and warm, and she leaned into it.
“Do we really have to do one?”
“We neverhaveto do anything,” he said. “But silence invites fiction.”
Her expression pinched. “I know but…I’d still rather not voluntarily be internet fodder.”
“Okay,” he murmured, and kissed the middle of her forehead, then started trailing kisses down her nose in quest forher mouth. Her resolve wavered in real time. “You don’t owe strangers access. I’ll get a team together.”
Bea’s phone buzzed. She snatched it up before the kitchen became the setting of a memory Lillian, in the room next door, would spend the rest of her life repressing.
Group Chat: Therapy Club
GEORGINA: Bea Cruz please confirm that you’re actually marrying Rafael Griffin and this isn’t a folie à deux.
She typed while Rafael watched.
BEA: Confirmed. Last Sat of April.
BEA: I hope you all like matching dresses.
GEORGINA: As long as Naomi’s family is designing
NAOMI: Obviously. With ten weeks it’s either us or off the rack
