Bound by Love

by Stephie Walls

  “Abby’s not going to find out, and even if she does, it’s not like it fucking matters.” I grab my keys off the counter and jump in the Yota. I love my truck. It’s a white Tundra with leather interior and wood grain. It has the TRD package on it and a whip for my CB that I like to use to fuck with truckers. It’s got a lift kit, but it doesn’t look redneck, just tough. I jump in and start the truck. Tim McGraw floods the cab as I drive down I-85.

  I have to park about a mile from the bar. When I get close to the entrance I see why, this place is packed and in violation of every possible fire code. I skim the top of the crowd, looking in the general direction of where I expect Lynn to be, when I catch sight of her waving at me. I can see Annie is freaking out. I smirk, knowing I’m the reason for that wild look in her eyes. When I reach the table, Lynn scoots over so I can sit down next to her. Annie looks stunned; she’s just sitting there with her mouth open. Lynn pulls me down to whisper in my ear, “She had no idea you were coming, but by the look on her face, I think she’s glad you’re here.”

  I look up at Annie who’s still in shock, and just smirk at her. I can tell it has an effect on her that she didn’t want it to have. She’s looking at me like she’d rip my clothes off if we weren’t in a crowded bar; I admit, it makes me hard. I reach across the table to introduce myself, but she can’t hear me. It’s so damn loud in the place it’s deafening. She reaches for my outstretched hand, and asks, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you. What did you say your name was?”

  I tug on her hand, lean over the table, and repeat my name in her ear. I can feel how hot my breath is on her skin, and instantly want to pull her on top of me, but she sits back taking her hand with her. She introduces herself, as if I’m not already aware of who she is.

  She’s trying to play it cool, but we both know there was a connection yesterday, even if she doesn’t want me to think there was.

  Out of nowhere, some short little chick comes bouncing up to our table. She can’t possibly even reach five feet tall. She’s got on a long, tie-dyed, crinkle skirt that reaches her ankles, a fitted tank top, Birks, and enough hemp jewelry to start her own store. She looks at Annie before whining, “Annie, come dance with me.” Annie shakes her head, but I see this as my opportunity. I know Lynn will follow us, and if her friend wants to dance, this is my chance. I grab her hand, pulling her out of her seat. Lacing my fingers through hers, I never give her the chance to tell me no. She follows me without hesitation as we snake through the swarm of people. I stop in the middle of the floor as the song is changing, and it’s like the heavens are shining down on me when the band plays the first slow song since I walked in the door. I turn towards her, seeing panic in her eyes as she looks over my shoulder to her friends who are both still close by, but not giving her an out.

  I look down at her. She’s so small standing next to me, not quite reaching the top of my shoulders. She’s staring into my eyes, like she can see something there. An emotion I can’t identify crosses her face before she closes it off. I lean down to whisper in her ear, “It’s just a dance. I won’t bite you.” Holy shit. That shy little smile she gives me takes my heart as I pull her into me. She puts both of her hands on my chest, and I tuck mine into the small of her back. She’s with me, but I can tell she’s deep in her own thoughts. Randomly, she asks, “What does your tattoo mean?” I laugh because everyone asks, and I give a different response every time. “Mighty Mouse,” I tell her, and hope she recognizes it as playful banter.

  There’s a glimmer of a smile at my answer. Either she’s had a few to drink or she’s been toking on whatever her friend was smoking. I know absolutely nothing about this girl, but I know that somehow we are connected, and it scares the shit out of me.

  Pulling her into me, I know she can feel my raging hard on, and I’m okay with that. I want her to know how much she turns me on. As the song changes, my hands graze her lower back rounding her sides, and down her hips, methodically leaving a trail of heat on her skin. I rest them firmly with my thumbs pressing into her pelvic bones. I’m not hurting her, but I’m sure she’s painfully aware of exactly where my hands are. Turning her back to me, I pull her closer than I thought possible, grinding away in perfect time with the music – her ass pressed into my groin. I’m not surprised by the way she moves; it’s sensual, intimate, and erotic. Her response time is slightly diminished from intoxication, but she easily follows my lead and allows me manipulate her body.

  She tilts her head back, resting it on my chest, just letting me move. Her hips sway with mine. I know if we were naked, this would be the hottest lay I’ve ever had. I lean into her neck, press my lips against her, and murmur, “Damn, you smell good.” She can’t make out what I said, but her body reacts anyway. Sliding her hands up and down my arms, she digs her nails in just a bit, like it might help relieve some of the sexual tension that is drowning both of us.

  My head has been so fucked up for the last few weeks, but being near her makes it all seem insignificant. I forget about Abby. For the moment, I’m at peace, even with hundreds of other people moving around us and music so loud my damn head feels like it’s going to split open.

  I don’t know how much time passes, but I’m sweating and so is she; our bodies have been meshed together for several songs. I don’t want to let her go.

  She turns to look up at me; I can see fear in her eyes. She’s fighting this and I’m not helping. She tells me she needs to go, but I don’t respond verbally. My arms move down toward her ass, which fits perfectly in my hands. She thinks I’m going to kiss her, but our first kiss won’t be here, not like this.

  My hands land on her back again. I lean into her, pressing my lips against her ear. “When can I see you again?”

  “I’ll be at the DC on Thursday. I’m sure you can find me,” she says with a wink.

  Oh, hell, she’s toying with me. I don’t respond; I just stand there and watch her leave. As she’s about to disappear through the door, she glances back at me. I lift my head and send her a cocky grin. This woman is going to be the death of me.

  Chapter Six – Annie

  This has been the week from hell. I took my last final yesterday, and now I’m going out to the DC to get signatures on my final proposal so I can dive into the work there. Walking in, all I can think about is getting this proposal signed so I can get Jack off my back. This is a big deal for Waltons. He acts like without a signature I might somehow lose it. I’m all business until I hit the DC floor. I’ll be damned if he’s not standing there. I mean, right there; so right there that I walk right into his freaking chest. He braces me from falling. “Oh, my God, Gray, I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” What is it with this guy that makes me sound like a bumbling idiot? Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck. I cannot be this close to him. I realize I’m lingering too long and pull away. Without another word, I head back to meet Brett and Dan.

  I’m not prepared for what comes next; I mean, I’m always prepared, but it throws me off. Brett and Dan both sign the contracts and dive straight into action. They assumed once they signed I would start working, which would be fine if I had my team here, but we hadn’t planned to start implementation until Monday. Not that I had other plans; sleep is overrated. It’s after seven when I finally wind down. Brett and Dan leave before I do. I’m shutting down my computer, gathering all the forms to take by the office, when I hear a horn outside the door. It’s a forklift, but I didn’t realize anyone other than a cleaning crew would still be here. They shut down at seven, so all of the hourly workers should be gone. I get my stuff, and walking out the door, I see Gray coming towards me.

  “Hey, I was just coming to lock up the offices before I leave. I didn’t realize you were still here.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m leaving. I didn’t have any intention of being here this late, but the suits kept me from leaving,” I say, unable to disguise the irritation in my voice.

  He locks the doors behind me, and then side-by-side we head to the front of the buildin
g. We walk in awkward silence until we reach the door. He stops and reaches for my arm. I turn to look at him, waiting. Gray looks down into my eyes and every coherent thought I had flies out of my ears. Damn, he is tall, at least seven or eight inches taller than I am. But those eyes… They’re big like a child’s, and there’s something in them that makes me want to reach out to him.

  “Do you have any plans tonight?” he blurts out. Normally, he is full of confidence, but tonight he seems unsure of himself. It’s endearing. I like knowing that I knock him off his game as much as he does me.

  “Um… well, sleep was on the agenda, but that was hours ago. So no, not really.”

  “I’ve gotta clock out, but why don’t we go get a bite to eat?” He seems uncertain, like he is expecting me to say no. I’m expecting me to say no, but suddenly, I hear myself say, “Yeah, sure. Why not?” What the hell, Annie? I’m silently screaming at myself.

  “Really? Great. Wait here. I’ll be right back.” It occurs to me that I could be out the door, pulling out of the parking lot before he comes back, but I just stand there, stone still.

  He comes jogging back toward me. “What do you feel like eating?” he asks.

  “I could go for a burger, I guess.”

  “I know it’s not fancy, but Applebee’s is right down the street. Wanna go there?”

  What the hell is this man thinking? I’d follow him to the edge of the earth, even if I knew he was just going to push me off it when we got there. Like I care where we eat. This is going to end horribly for me. It’s like a bad car accident, you know you shouldn’t watch it, but you can’t tear yourself away and actually slow down to catch the details.

  “My truck’s over there. Why don’t you put your stuff in your car, and we can ride there together. I’ll bring you back after we eat.” I must have said yes because he’s heading toward his truck while I unlock my car, throwing my stuff inside.

  “I know this is a little out of the way, but would you mind swinging by my apartment so I can change? These heels are killing me.” He grins, veering toward town. I have no clue how the hell he knows where I live, but he doesn’t ask and is going in the right direction, so I keep my mouth shut. He turns the radio on; Tim McGraw’s “Where the Green Grass Grows” fills the air. He’s singing along. I know at this point, there’s no turning back. I’m in deep shit with a man I know nothing about. I’m staring at him, listening to his serenade. He glances over at me. My heart seizes mid beat. It’s not possible to love someone you know nothing about, but inevitably, that’s what this is.

  “Do you not like country music? You don’t really look like a country music kind of girl. I can change it.” He reaches toward the CD player, but I stop his hand with mine. He doesn’t say anything, but takes my hand, winds his fingers through mine, placing both of our hands on his knee.

  “I love Tim McGraw. Please don’t change it.”

  “There’s no way a girl like you listens to music like this.”

  “I do, really. And what do you mean, a girl like me?”

  “You know, high-class, college girl,” he responds.

  “I’m not sure if I should be offended or take that as a compliment. But I can assure you, I was raised on country music. I love it.”

  He looks at me skeptically. “If I were to get in your car right now and turn on the radio, what CD would be playing?”

  “Tim McGraw’s self-titled.” I give him a wide grin because it’s the truth.

  “I’m going to call you out on that one when we get back. I’m not buying it, and a self-title is an easy bet on guessing an album name.” He doesn’t believe me, but he’s wrong. I remember the first time I ever saw Tim McGraw in concert; he opened for Little Texas at the Greenville Memorial Auditorium when I was about sixteen. I fell as hard for Tim that day as I am for Gray today.

  It’s about a fifteen-minute drive to my apartment. Somehow, my mind manages to start to form complete thoughts for the first time since I met Gray, allowing the conversation to flow easily. He’s an easy-going guy; fun loving, like he’d be the life of the party, able to get along with anyone. He has a way of setting me at ease.

  When he turns in to the complex, I stay silent, wondering just how much he actually knows about me. He slows down as he pulls in. When he reaches the fork in the drive, he asks, “Which way?”

  I giggle, “What, you don’t know exactly where I live? You’re losing your touch already, Gray.” He just grins. “Turn right, first building on the left.” He snags a parking place. I hop out with him following behind me, and we hike up to the third floor.

  “I shoulda guessed. Top floor, penthouse kinda thing, right?” he says, like it’s exactly where he would have thought I would live. I’m a little taken back by the comment. I don’t know why he assumes I’m some high-class chick. I’ve worked really hard to be where I am; no one pays my freight…for anything. I’ve always been really independent. My parents would help me out, but it would come with conditions. They need an element of control, like where I live, what I do, who I spend my time with, and so on. It’s just not worth it. If I do it on my own, no one calls the shots.

  “Actually, I put my name on the waiting list when they were building the apartments. I was so far down on the list when they started renting that this was my only option,” I respond as I open the door. “But I love the vaulted ceilings and the fireplace. The workout coming up and down the stairs multiple times a day was just an added bonus.” I wink letting him in. I’m trying to keep this light hearted. I don’t want him to think I’m who he thinks I am. I want him to see me, but I’m not sure he can get passed this image he already has established in his mind. What I can’t figure out is where it came from.

  “Have a seat.” I point to the dark leather couch in my living room. “I’ll only be a minute. Let me throw on some jeans and a shirt.” I get lost in him for a second before I realize I haven’t moved. Damn if I don’t want to pull him in my bedroom with me to feel his arms around my naked body, those lips pressed to my skin. I quickly turn on the ball of my foot toward my room. I hear him chuckle under his breath like he thinks my nerves are humorous. If he knew how inexperienced I am, that it had been over two years since I had been touched by a man, he would laugh his ass off.

  Pushing that thought aside, I grab a pair of dark fitted jeans that hug my ass in all the right ways, making my legs look fantastic. Pulling a short-sleeved, light blue sweater over my head, I grab my black Doc Martens. I don’t have a lot of style; I’m fairly simple. I choose comfort over fashion when I’m not at work. My personal opinion is that Docs go with everything. I love them. In my bathroom, I pull my hair up into a ponytail. It’s long and overly thick, but I can’t seem to bring myself to cut it off, so I just deal with it the best I can. I put on some lip-gloss, silently wishing that I knew how to apply makeup. I have friends who will doll me up sometimes, but it’s not my cup of tea. Having grown up in a little town in Colorado, my style is a little more granola. Luckily, God gave me some natural shading on my eyelids and color in my cheeks, so the gloss is all I do. I give myself one final glance in the mirror and sigh. I look cute, but the guy sitting in my living room is full on gorgeous, causing me to feel a little inferior. I don’t like that feeling at all. I hate having my confidence shaken.

  Stepping back into the living room, he stands when he sees me. “Wow! You look great.” I just smile and grab my purse. Glancing over my shoulder I say, “You ready?” He takes my hand, pulling me to him. I’m standing so close I can feel his breath; it smells like peppermint. My nipples brush against him, instantly hardening.

  He releases my hand, curling one hand around my neck, the other on my cheek. I haven’t moved. My eyes are fixed on his. I can feel myself breathing heavily as he bends down, his eyes slowly closing. Mine close naturally in response. His lips touch mine; they’re lush and soft, but it’s the electricity that I feel the moment we touch that sends heat straight to my pussy.

  Parting his lips, his tongue gently
brushes against my mouth, encouraging me to open to him. It’s not hurried; it’s a slow, gentle kiss, sensual. Our tongues find each other. The feel of him in my mouth drenches my panties. The dance is intoxicating, give and take, back and forth. It’s full of emotion. I’m not sure what it’s saying, but I’m ready to find out.

  He gently pulls away, but only enough to break the kiss, lightly pecking me on the lips, tugging slightly on my bottom lip with his teeth. He leans his forehead in to mine and just looks at me. The gesture is surprisingly intimate.

  That cocky grin shows up, never breaking eye contact and he says, “Now, I’m ready.”

  I haven’t moved an inch, like I’m in shock. I didn’t realize how much I had missed a man’s touch, how lonely I’ve felt. The sparks flowing between us are igniting something I haven’t felt in years. I’ve tried to eliminate that need in my life by devoting myself to work and school, so what little feeling is left, I am able to drown in drugs. I want to stay in his arms all night, preferably naked, in my bed, covered in sweat, but I know I can’t. That’s not my MO, and he’s a client for the love of God. Well, maybe only technically, but I’m thinking Jack wouldn’t see it that way.

  Laughing he asks, “Are you coming?” It’s enough to snap me out of my dazed state, causing me to blush.

  This guy is intoxicating. I can’t help but feel like he’s going to shatter me, but I don’t want to walk away from him. There’s just something about him that draws me to him. When he reaches for the door, his sleeve rides up enough for that symbol to peek out at me, calling for my attention. “Hey, Gray, what does your tattoo mean really?”

  Winking at me, he says, “Casanova.” Apparently, this is a game, and I doubt I will ever know the truth. Maybe it holds some deep meaning for him that he doesn’t want to share with anyone. I just giggle at him, shaking my head.

  We go back the way we came, taking the road to the Applebee’s closest to the DC. I’m not a big fan of Applebee’s, but I’m also not one of those girls that insist on going to high-dollar restaurants to be wooed. Honestly, I prefer to pick up my own check so I don’t have any further obligation. But hell, I don’t even know if this is a date or just two people who “work together” having a bite to eat. I’d like to think, after that kiss that just sent my world into orbit, that it is a date, but at the same time, I don’t want to date anyone – contradiction, I know.