Bind (Manhattan Lux Book 1): Manhattan Lux

by Olivia Devon

  Jinx retrieved the brace and put it back on his knee. The swelling was bad enough that the compression might help. But he was going to need more than that.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said. Leaving the guest room she went to her own, and rummaged through her special chest of toys until she found exactly what she needed. When she returned, Wyatt’s eyebrows rose another inch.

  “Rope?!”

  Jinx flashed him a grin and held up a coil of soft black rope.

  “Hey listen,” Wyatt said. “I think you’re sexy, too, and I’d love nothing more than to go all Fifty Shades with you kitten but I really do need that nap.”

  “Shut up.” Jinx kicked off her heels, stood on the edge of the bed frame and threw a length of rope in the air, snagging it on a hook that was anchored in the ceiling. “This isn’t a sex thing, it’s a therapy thing. Your shoulder hurts because your knee hurts. You’re overcompensating because of the knee pain, and that’s throwing everything else out of whack. If I sent you to my chiropractor right now, she’d have a heart attack.”

  “Well we wouldn’t want that.”

  “She can help, but we don’t have time for that today. So I’ll make an appointment for you for tomorrow. For now…” Jinx flung the rope up again and again, snagging lengths on other hooks in the ceiling until she had a web of black rope hanging to the bed. “I’ll just have to fix you myself.”

  “Yeah and what exactly does that involve?” Wyatt asked, eyeing the rope. “Because it’s starting to look a little medieval in here. Also, why do you have those hooks in your ceiling?”

  “Remember your little joke in my office this morning?”

  “Yes, mistress.” Wyatt grinned. “So you really are into bondage?”

  “Kinbaku actually,” she said. Passing a length of rope under his upper thigh, she knotted it, dragged it down to his calf, marrying it with a section that she tied well below the brace. “Also known as Shibari, commonly referred to as Japanese Bondage. It’s an art form. I installed the hooks in here so I could use this room as a studio. I do private shoots sometimes, tie up models for photographers and that sort of thing.”

  “And you thought that now was a good time for a photo shoot?”

  “Nope, this is therapy.”

  “I’m not following. How is tying me up going to make my knee feel better?”

  Jinx stopped for a moment and looked at him. “Because I’m going to suspend your leg and elevate it, so the swelling can reduce. I’m also going to tie trigger knots.”

  Wyatt scrunched up his nose and frowned at her.

  “Knots that are placed at specific acupressure points in the bindings,” she explained. “With gentle pressure at those points to relieve the pain, as well as elevation, I think you’ll be feeling much better by this evening.”

  “Did you make this shit up? Because I’ve literally never heard of that before.”

  Jinx sniffed and averted her gaze, concentrating on wrapping the rope around Wyatt’s leg. A cinch knot here, a lock knot there. She was experienced, so it was quick work, but still patient, deliberate, exacting.

  “I did actually sort of invent this myself,” she said, tying the last knot. “But it’s based on sound research and established therapies.” She glanced at Wyatt, and the height of his eyebrows said he was skeptical.

  “Look,” Jinx said. Gathering one end of rope, she coiled the slack over her arm and pulled, raising his leg gently, slowly from the bed until it was elevated above heart level. “Bondage and physical therapy both address pain, but from different angles, and with seemingly different goals. But they have more in common than people realize.”

  “How do you figure?”

  Jinx anchored the rope end on a hook on the bed, and moved to sit beside him, sliding her fingers under his torso and up to his shoulder, massaging.

  “Well, this is a gross oversimplification - but in a way they’re both about controlling sensation. The careful application or management of pain, to achieve a desired result. Pleasure.”

  “I’m listening. ”

  “Ever had a bug bite?” she said, her fingers pressing firmly into the hard mass of muscle that had tensed in his shoulder. “And it itched so bad that you scratched it open, till it was raw and bleeding?”

  “Yeah, who hasn’t?”

  “And it still hurt, that wound that you created, it hurt bad, but it was also—”

  “A relief,” he said. Letting his head rest against the pillow, he looked up at her. “It felt—”

  “Good.”

  “Yeah. Real good.” Wyatt glanced down at her fingers, then back up, and smiled. That same teasing smirk he’d used on her in the office that morning.

  “Right,” she said, “I’m just going to ignore the incredibly unsubtle subtext behind that smile, cowboy.” That, combined with the fact that she could see the crotch of his boxers growing out of the corner of her eye - yeah, good idea to ignore that too.

  “Why?”

  Jinx shrugged. “Pain and pleasure, endorphins, adrenaline. It all gets a little jumbled in our head, not to mention our nerve endings. The line between pleasure and pain is wavy for most of us. For others it zig zags back and forth.”

  Wyatt shifted on the pillows and put his free arm up behind his head, sighing, almost purring with satisfaction as she continued kneading his muscles.

  “What’s my line look like?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows. “Take a guess. Straight? Wavy?”

  “Zig Zag,” Jinx said, her gaze meeting his.

  “Really? Think so?”

  Jinx stroked her fingers down his shoulder, digging channels into his flesh. Her hands circled his bicep, kneaded, then traveled down to his forearm, massaging, and caressing her way to his palm. Pressing her knuckles into the ball of his thumb she dug in hard, harder than she would’ve with anyone else, hard enough to make Wyatt inhale sharply and mutter a curse under his breath.

  “Painful?” she asked.

  “Yes…and no.”

  “Want me to stop?”

  “Not a chance.”

  Jinx smiled. “There’s that line zig zagging.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Yeah I think so.” Jinx massaged his palm, and then his fingers, feeling the muscles ease under her attention.

  “I wasn’t referring to the zig zag,” said Wyatt, his voice husky.

  “Jinx looked up and met his gaze, felt his fingers slide out from under hers and glide lightly, whisper soft, up the inside of her arm.

  “When I said “why”,” he continued, his gaze searching hers, holding. “I was asking why you’re ignoring it, the subtext under my smile, as you put it.”

  “I ….” Words were failing her, falling right out of her head and into the vast ocean of blue that seemed to hover where Wyatt’s eyes were supposed to be. She knew she had some thoughts about this. Something about professionalism and working together, and he was her boss’s cousin.

  “See the thing is…” Wyatt sat up, leaning on his elbow, his fingers still tracing hot little circles on her sensitive skin. “I don’t think we should ignore it.”

  “You don’t?” Jinx watched as Wyatt edged a little closer, brought his other hand around and put it on her knee. Her gaze flickered up from his hands to his chin, to his lips. Full, kissable. His tongue darted out and wet his bottom lip. She looked away, back down to his hands, and didn’t stop him when he threaded his fingers with hers.

  “No,” he said, his voice soft, enticing. “We’ve got this spark between us. I think it’s just the beginning. I say we light it up and let it explode.” Wyatt cupped her cheek, coaxing her chin up until her gaze met his again. “What do you say?”

  Jinx didn’t answer, instead, she lifted Wyatt’s hand to her mouth and sucked one thick finger between her lips.

  “Shhhiiitt.” Wyatt’s eyes grew wide, fixated on her mouth as her tongue circled his finger, as she licked and sucked as if that sweet digit was another appendage entirely.

  Jinx twis
ted and set her gaze on his crotch. Wyatt’s eyes followed hers shamelessly, and they both watched as the bulge in his boxer briefs twitched in response to her tongue. Up one side, down the other, a little swirl around the head. Twitch, twitch, twitch.

  Wyatt moaned, seemingly lost in the sensation, but she already knew him too well. She could feel it, sense it, the smartass, teasing remark that was right there on the tip of his tongue. He’d be letting it fly any moment now, hoping his words would throw her off, get under her skin.

  Jinx had other plans.

  She timed it perfectly, waited for that soft intake of breath, the slight gap in his breathing that indicated he was about to speak. That’s when she struck, biting down hard on the base of his finger and then dragging her teeth up the length.

  Wyatt’s cock sprung to life, fully erect and straining lewdly against his boxer briefs.

  Jinx popped his finger out of her mouth and set his hand down on the bed.

  “What do I think?” she said, echoing his question from just moments ago.

  Wyatt stared at her, his jaw slack, the expression in his eyes halfway between shock and devotion. He gulped, glanced down at the log that was threatening to burst the seam of his briefs, and then managed a nod. “Yeah, what do you think?”

  Jinx grinned. “I think it’s nap time.”

  Chapter Six

  A raging hard-on isn’t exactly conducive to restful sleep. It was a testament to his training that he was able to nap at all. In the field, a SEAL learns to get some shut-eye wherever, whenever he can, explosions and hard-ons be damned. Still, it had taken him twice as long to fall asleep after dealing with Jinx then it would’ve if he’d been going up against a group of highly dangerous enemy combatants.

  The girl was a WMD.

  Woman of Maximum Desirability.

  But sleep he must’ve, because one minute he was snorting at his own bad joke, and the next he was wide awake, senses alert and muscles tensed when he heard a floorboard creak on the other side of the door.

  Jinx was sneaking into the room. Maybe she planned to slip in beside him and take him up on his offer? Delicate fingers brushed the knots at his leg. Nope, she was just untying him. He thought about fake waking up and taking another opportunity to spar with her. It would be fun to see irritation flash across those lovely features again.

  Nah. He stayed still, kept his breathing slow and even. Let her think he was still asleep. There’d be time for more fun later.

  She finished quickly, lowering his leg to the bed so gently that, if not for his training, he might’ve slept right through it. She had a soft touch for such a hard exterior.

  They weren’t going to be having dinner together after all. He’d figured that much out when he heard the scuffle of dog paws on hardwood, the hushed “goodbyes”, followed by the sound of the apartment door closing. Jinx had gone down to the club early.

  Wyatt hopped out of bed. This was good actually. He could use the time alone to clear his head, get dressed, and grab something to eat downstairs before tonight’s work. He took a quick shower, washed the sleep out of his eyes, and went back to the bedroom to get dressed. Rifling through his duffel bag he found a pair of black denims and a black t-shirt, the uniform de rigueur for security staff in nightclubs. He pulled them on, noting with some delight that Jinx was right, his knee felt considerably better than it had this morning.

  The dogs greeted him at the bedroom door, a platoon of fur-covered bouncy balls, escorting their newly adopted commander down the hall to the kitchen. It was Clyde who alerted him to Jinx’s gift by pacing back and forth in front of the kitchen counter until Wyatt caught on. She’d avoided having dinner with him, but this gesture suggested she felt a little guilty about that. A fat sandwich, heavy with cold cuts, crisp lettuce, and two thick slices of tomato sat on the counter, wrapped in plastic. A note on top said:

  Went in early, didn’t want to wake you. Hopefully this sandwich is still here when you wake. If not, the dogs ate it. In which case, you can order a pizza downstairs.

  ~ J

  Wyatt liberated the sandwich from the plastic, pinched off a piece of ham for Clyde, then stuffed half of what was left in his mouth.

  “Your Mommy likes me,” he said to the dogs while chewing. “I know that because she left me a sandwich. Women don’t make sandwiches for guys they don’t like.” The dogs circled his feet, jumping up as if they thought they had a chance at some ham too.

  “True fact fellas.” Wyatt wolfed down the rest of the sandwich, save one bite, which he broke into four pieces and tossed to each dog in turn. “Wish me luck guys,” he said, as the dogs smacked their lips and panted up at him adoringly. “I’ve got my work cut out for me. I’ve gotta keep the club safe…” He counted off on his fingers. “Catch the bad guys, and then still have enough energy left to seduce your Mom and make sweet, sweet love to her all night long.”

  Four little heads tilted in unison.

  “Respectfully.”

  Four smiles reappeared.

  “Alright little dudes, stay fuzzy. I’ll catch you later.” Wyatt waved goodbye to the dogs, shut the door behind him, and walked to the bank of elevators that would take him down to the club.

  Time for work. The smile he’d shown the dogs slowly faded from his face, his jaw hardened, and every aspect of his bearing shifted.

  Once a SEAL, always a SEAL.

  Tonight, he had a job to do.

  Jinx walked the perimeter of the club, surveying her domain one last time before the crowds really started streaming in. The club was already writhing with activity. In another hour it would be standing room only—it always was on performance nights.

  The performance she’d be presenting tonight, a sexy bondage demonstration with a local fetish model, was sure to draw very large crowds. Wyatt didn’t know about it. She should have told him over dinner, prepared him for the security complication that such an event might create for him tonight. But she hadn’t been ready to face him yet, couldn’t sit across from him at her kitchen counter and serve him spaghetti like they were…. Well it was just too domestic.

  So instead of dinner, she’d copped out, left him a sandwich, and headed into the club early. A few hours spent away from him would give her space to calm her nerves and get her head ready for tonight’s performance. God knew she needed it. Earlier, in the bedroom, she’d nearly let him pull her onto his lap, nearly let him—

  “What’s up sexy?” Wyatt’s voice rose above the pounding music and sent a shiver up her spine.

  Jinx turned, her shoulders thrown back, one hand on her hip, and all the attitude she could muster directed at that cocky tone.

  Shit.

  He looked amazing. Biceps bulging in a tight black t-shirt. Her gaze shifted down. Everything on this man bulged actually. Jeez. She racked her brain for a pithy response.

  “Do you own any shirts that are designed to fit a man of your age?”

  “This?” Wyatt stepped closer, crowding her against the padded edge of the Club’s west side bar. “It’s my lucky shirt. Had it since I was eight. What? You don’t like it?”

  Jinx scrunched her nose and turned her head away, pretending to watch the crowds.

  “You get all sorted with the security crew?” She asked.

  “Yes, I did. Thanks for asking. Great group of guys you have, actually.”

  “I know it.”

  “No love for Damon, and they seem alright with me taking over.”

  “Well that fat bonus Jack approved helped a bit I’m sure.”

  “It did, and you were smart to suggest it to him. Thank you.”

  “That’s my job,” she said, glancing up at him.

  “Yeah, and this is interesting, because I had to find this out from the guys and not from you, which would have been better, but apparently it’s also your job to put on live sex shows? Like say the one tonight? In about an hour?”

  Jinx turned and poked a finger into his chest. “It’s not a live sex show,” she said. “Ju
st a rope demonstration with a willing volunteer. Nobody has sex with anybody.”

  Wyatt tilted his head and arched a brow.

  “What?” Jinx said.

  Wyatt arched both eyebrows and blinked at her, slowly.

  “It’s art, you Neanderthal!” Placing her palm flat on his pecs she pushed him away from her and frowned when she saw that a massive effort on her part barely budged him an inch. “Ugh,” she groaned. “You’re like a fucking wall built of muscle and bad jokes. Jesus, get out of my way.” Jinx leaned in, threw her shoulder into it, and tried to bodily move the looming mountain of irritation out of her path. She had a fucking club to run and a fucking performance to get ready for, and she didn’t need his stupid blue squinty eyes distracting her.

  They scuffled for a moment, Jinx with her weight against his, her feet slipping out from under her as she pushed. Suddenly, the mountain gave way, and Jinx went flying straight toward a cocktail waitress with a tray of drinks.

  A hand caught her around the waist at the last minute and set her upright. Wyatt’s hand.

  Fuck.

  “You okay there?” he asked, his fingers coasting over her cheek to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her skin sparked to life under his touch, and Jinx felt the heat rise in her cheeks, his words from this afternoon echoing in her head.

  “We’ve got this spark between us. I think it’s just the beginning. I say we light it up and let it explode.”

  Lifting her head, she let her gaze meet his and stilled. What was it about this guy? He was right, there was something here, something between them, something—

  “Wyatt, there just can’t be anything between us,” she said, cutting off her own thoughts before they went any further, before they got dangerous.

  Wyatt’s eyes narrowed and his gaze darkened. Tucking one of her arms in his he snaked the other around her waist and half dragged, half guided her to a shadowed spot behind a pillar.

  “There is already something between us,” he said. “What I proposed this afternoon was that we act on that something.”

  “That’s just not possible.” Jinx shook her head and looked past him, over his shoulder, her gaze fixated on the sea of gyrating bodies.