Cuffed

by Angel Payne

  There was another lengthy pause. “Aw, hell,” his friend finally spat.

  Z frowned. “Hell what?”

  “I’m not getting that paddle back now, am I?”

  “What paddle?”

  “The one you found.” Garrett snorted. “Right? The one I got at the vendor night at Bastille, the leather-wrapped number with the end shaped like a heart that I left up there? Bastard. You know Sage loves that thing. You found it, and now you’re holding it hostage. All right, what do you want for it?”

  Even under these circumstances, he’d usually laugh at that. But now, knowing he had at least a couple more days in this place with Rayna, that paddle, and a whole kitchen full of kinky utensils that he hadn’t even used on her yet…

  That he couldn’t use on her, ever.

  Hopping the border and disappearing into the Canadian tundra was looking less torturous by the second.

  “I don’t want the damn paddle, Haystack Jack,” he retorted. “I was just hoping Sage left some clothes behind.”

  “Oh.” Garrett emitted a sarcastic snort. “Well, in that case, can’t help you, man.” When Zeke sliced a growl through the line, he cracked, “What the hell? You think I let her pack clothes for a weekend in the woods alone?”

  Z rolled his eyes. “One day, I’m going to regret exposing you to all this, aren’t I?”

  Garrett laughed. “I think I would have managed the way myself eventually.”

  “Yeah, just remember the buddy who put the first flogger in your hand, you stubborn smegma.”

  “No way I’m forgetting you right now, darling. You’re hotter than the Kardashians and all twelve Bachelor finalists right now.”

  “Gee thanks, my little love muffin.”

  “Bite me, Hayes.”

  “I’d really rather not.” Especially because he could only think of one body he longed to be biting right now. “But speaking of kinky aftermath—”

  “You wanna talk to T-Bomb?”

  Sometimes it was damn good to have a wingman who read your mind like a Jedi. “Check,” he responded to this friend. “Thanks, Hawk.”

  After half a minute, Tait’s voice came on the line. “Hey, Z.” His tone was strained.

  “Tait.” He turned away from Rayna and pulled in a deep breath. Awkward just got installed over the conversation in neon letters. “Listen…I need to thank you for having my six last night with Luna. Well…night before last, technically.”

  Tait shot back an angry growl. “Are you really doing this shit? After you saved my bacon twice in Kaesŏng last Saturday?”

  “Not the same game and you know it, man. There are times and places for Psycho Zsycho, and—”

  “And from what I witnessed, Luna had no complaints about him showing up in that play room.”

  Something sneaked into the guy’s voice that Zeke didn’t recognize. If they were women, he might even think a certain green monster had perched on T-Bomb’s shoulder. “Are you square with what happened, man?”

  “Yeah.” Again, Tait’s answer came too fast and easy. “Of course. It was a fucking awesome scene, Z. You were good with her, really amazing. I learned a few new things, too.”

  “Okay.” He said it slowly. “So how’s Luna? Was she square with everything?”

  “As square as she could be.” Tait took another breath as if to add to that but huffed into silence.

  “What?”

  “What do you mean, ‘what?’ Dude, she was using Harry Potter references on me. That woman, with her goddess hair and her endless eyes and her sexy wit, was reduced to Hogwarts analogies after being under your hand for an hour.”

  He felt his eyebrows jump. Half of him wanted to take Bommer’s clear-cut infatuation, mush it up into a pile of shit, and rub the guy’s surfer god face in it. Fortunately, the other part of him won out.

  “Yeah, okay,” he muttered. “I need to talk to her.”

  “Ya think?”

  “On the top of the to-do list, okay? Just as soon as I don’t have every cop, civvy, and military craving to put a bullet in my ass.”

  With that as a perky little conversation ender, he hit the over-and-outs with Tait, coordinated another call time with Garrett in twelve hours, and cradled the phone with a weighty exhalation.

  Rayna scooted around to stand next to him at the counter. She lifted the tips of her fingers to his forearm and scraped them lightly through his hair. Damn it if even that simple gesture from her didn’t ignite his blood in forty different ways again.

  “So we’re on the lam for a little while longer, Clyde?” She embellished it with a tiny giggle. Zeke struggled to match her mirth but couldn’t summon the feelings. They were jammed by an embargo on his senses, enacted by a joint effort between his cock and his mind, uniting as one front, behind one petrifying thought.

  How the hell was he expected to stay here with her for one more hour, let alone a day or two or three, and keep his hands away from her?

  You already know the answer to that, asshole.

  Because if you don’t, you’ll destroy her. Forget about everything you’ll do to her body. Consider the damage you’ll wreak upon her mind, her heart…

  Consider the devastation she’ll wreak on yours.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Ooohhh! I like this one.”

  Rayna giggled as she held up the T-shirt to her chest, grabbed from a bin of ridiculous tourist garb in the little gift store where she and Zeke were the only customers. It sure as hell beat the baggy sweatshirt he’d given her as a replacement for the Henley, along with her semiclean sweats and muddy Skechers runners.

  Z glanced at the shirt, jabbed a tuft of her hair back under the Mariners baseball cap, and issued an answer without skipping a beat. “No.”

  She gave him a mocking gape. “No? What the hell, Hayes? It’s the best line from all the Indiana Jones movies. You know, this shirt is probably a classic.”

  “Classic piece of crap.”

  Her jaw dropped again. “You just said that about Professor Henry Jones Junior, buddy.”

  “Pffft. Whatever.”

  “Ohhh, I get it. You’re one of those Jedi boys who thinks Han Solo kicks Indy’s ass, right?”

  He grunted. “Han Solo isn’t afraid of some stupid-ass snakes.” He pondered a sweatshirt embellished with sparkled butterflies and flowers along with the words Cascades National Forest: A Blooming Good Time. “Han Solo isn’t afraid of anything. Just sayin’.”

  “Except Leia.”

  The second it came out, she realized she wasn’t entirely kidding. Fortunately, Z didn’t get her subtext due to his own search through the bin. “Why would he be afraid of Leia?” he muttered. “She’s the love of his life.”

  “And she knows that…how?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She glowered at him, strangely irritated. “The Empire Strikes Back. Cloud City, remember? He’s about to be encased in carbonite. They have no idea how long he’ll be frozen or if he’ll even survive the imprisonment. It’s dangerous shit. She comes clean, confesses she loves him. And he—”

  “Okay, look.” He abandoned the bin in favor of thumbing through a rack of hoodies on hangers. The action made it necessary for him to lean closer to her. “Leia is the leader of her people and usually has a blaster strapped to her thigh. It’s not like she needs hearts for dots in her words or astral sonnets. Han knows that.”

  The smile with which he finished only worsened her weird case of rankled. Nevertheless, she tossed back a little smirk of her own. “Which is exactly why she scares him.”

  Before he could get out a comeback, she started back down the aisle. Just before she rounded the corner near the hunting rifles, she called, “Get me the sparkly sweatshirt and you’re a dead man, Hayes.”

  * * *

  An hour later, with several bags of nonperishable groceries and new clothes in the Jag’s back seat, her mouth was filled with an incredible burst of flavor. She lifted a gaze of pure rapture at Z.

&nb
sp; “Holy shit,” she gasped. “You were right.”

  Z leaned back against the driver’s side door and cocked a grin. “Bet your ass I was.”

  “This is the best damn pizza on the planet.”

  “Worth the extra half hour down the hill?”

  “Mmmmm.” She took another bite and rolled her eyes in pleasure. “Yes, Sir!”

  Unbelievably, Zeke set his pizza down into the box that rested on his lap. She looked up in surprise—until her gaze got to his face. His parted lips and darkened gaze brought a meltdown of comprehension. And remembrance. And deep, needing lust.

  And unease.

  “It—just popped out,” she murmured.

  “It sure did.” His voice was equally low. And coarse. And damnably, deliciously sexy. He didn’t falter his stare, making her feel like the cheese on the pizza. The box rested against his broad, firm abs. She fought off a sudden urge to toss the thing into the back seat, climb over, and plunge her hands under his jacket just to feel his hot, hard skin again. She dared glancing up at him, biting her lower lip to keep her chin from wobbling and betraying her thoughts.

  Like that helped.

  “Rayna.” It spilled from him on a rasp. “Goddamnit. How do you do that to me?”

  She frowned, trying to discern whether he’d just bashed her or complimented her. “Do what?”

  He shook his head. The action stirred thicker tension into the air. “That.” He rubbed his chest hard. “With just your eyes… Hell.”

  She looked back down. It didn’t thin her cloud of need at all. Nor, she realized, did she want it to. This needy burn in her body for him… She liked it. Though she knew it was insane, even knew her body might end up bearing the same welts she’d seen on Luna, she needed him.

  “Z?”

  “What?”

  She peered up at him again. “Before that day, with Kier…I’d never been to that park.”

  “I know.”

  “I never went back after.”

  “I know.” He gazed out the windshield as he repeated it. The scudding skies etched his bold features in dark gray light, making him look more a troubled warrior than ever. Her fingers itched with the need to touch him, to soothe those dark edges away from him. “I went back a few times,” he confessed. “Looking for you.”

  “You did?”

  He rolled his head, cracking his neck. It didn’t ease the taut lines at the edge of his face. “I never knew what had happened. Whether you were okay.”

  It was easy to control the little tingles that danced through her chest. Fighting the thrill that rooted in her stomach was another thing. “You worried about me?”

  He didn’t answer her right away. His brows bunched as he picked apart one of the napkins, piece by thumbnail-sized piece. “You can blame the ballet for that.”

  If he’d just told her he was secretly a European prince, she wouldn’t have been more stunned. “Excuse me?” She couldn’t help the laugh with which she finished.

  “Kier and I were street mongrels, Ray. You know that part already.” After she nodded, he went on. “We were actually friends for a long time as younger kids. We were unified by our belief that there had to be a way out. Trouble was, once we hit middle school, Kier’s escape hatch was lined with drug dealing, gun running, booze, and dropping out. I chose a different path. It involved the ballet.”

  She tossed him a teasing sneer. “You joined up with the Pac Northwest Ballet?”

  “Not exactly.” His lips quirked. “My social worker was a fan.” He dragged a hand through his hair as an excuse to hide his embarrassed grin. “The rec center always got donated tickets, and she told me I was a great date. The night after Kier and I bumped heads in the park over you, I went to see The Firebird with Meryl. The ballerina who played her had hair as beautiful as yours. The entire time I watched the show, I thought about my own firebird from the park. I thought about…you.” He lifted a wistful grin. “I was so pissed at the end when the bird didn’t magically morph into a princess or something. She was shorted by a feather and a prince. What the hell was up with that?”

  She couldn’t help giggling. “Maybe the prince saw a blaster on her thigh and figured she was good to go.”

  Zeke scowled and shoved half a piece of pizza into his mouth. After gulping it down, he looked over and queried, “So you were okay, then? The police got you home?”

  “Yeah.” She issued the answer fast, flustered by what his fervent tone did to her. Actually, more than flustered. She wanted to launch herself into him, flattened pizza be damned. She wanted to grab his hair, kiss him, and beg him to put his hands on naughty places on her body. She wanted to show him that last night had only made her want more of him. And yes, more of his domination. Maybe much more.

  But she couldn’t give him more.

  Because every time he claimed her body, a little more of her heart went with it.

  And whose fault is that, Rayna? He’s been damn clear about what he can do for you—and what he can’t. If you get caught in the tractor beam of Zeke Hayes, don’t cry when you’re caught and then executed by your own foolish feelings.

  She needed air.

  Now.

  In a rush, she jerked the handle, shoved the door open, and got out of the car. As she expected—and dreaded—Z scrambled out, too.

  “Ray-bird?”

  “I’m okay.” She forced a light tone. “Sorry. It was getting warm in there.”

  “Yeah.” The wet ground squished beneath his boots as he approached. “You sure you’re all right?”

  When she didn’t answer after a long moment, he shifted closer. Her breath hitched from his heat, so familiar and strong…such a perfect fit with the very fibers of her body. It was likely why she let him pull her around to face him. He circled his other hand to the small of her back. With semiautomatic instinct, she lifted her hand to his shoulder.

  One side of his mouth tilted, along with the corresponding eyebrow—just before he swept her into a perfect waltz.

  “What the—”

  “Did I mention Meryl also used me as her ballroom dance lessons partner?”

  Rayna laughed and then squealed as he spun her even faster. After they circled once through the clearing, scattering wet leaves as they went, Z slowed their pace, guiding her into something like a back-and-forth prom night sway.

  But as his dancing calmed, his stare didn’t. Once more he scrutinized her deeply, his dark lashes dropping as his irises filled with bronze intent.

  “What?” Rayna finally stammered.

  “What what?” He curled her hand in against his chest. Even through his thick jacket, he warmed her skin. His fingers enveloped hers in unflinching strength.

  “Why are you looking at me that way?”

  “In what way? Enlighten me.”

  His voice dipped lower. Rayna turned her gaze down. If she looked at him now, she’d blurt something ridiculous. Something that stemmed from what she hoped his intent was, and nothing of the truth.

  “What is it, Rayna? You can tell me. But I’ll be clear about something. I’m not buying the ‘it’s too hot in the car’ excuse anymore.”

  She forgot to breathe as his voice seeped into her. The authority of it, mixed with such deep protectiveness, sounded just like the order he’d given her last night. Kneel for me, honey.

  Just like then, her heart kept racing. Just like then, she was a little afraid and a lot aroused. She closed her eyes, savoring the strands of heat and ice in her blood.

  She took his hand and pressed it to the side of her face. When she opened her eyes, letting her gaze lock deeply into his once more, she almost formed her mouth around the truth he demanded.

  Please. I know it can’t be forever, but I need…all of it. Your bondage. Your body. Your control. Your strength.

  I need you.

  Instead, she clenched her teeth around a smile before gently kissing his knuckles. “I’m fine. Thanks for your concern. Let’s just get going, okay?”

  C
hapter Fifteen

  An icy wind cut across the high cliff. It was bitterly cold; the clouds would likely open up again soon.

  Luna put an odds-on bet that she’d get sick first.

  She pushed the binoculars away with a wince. “Enough,” she rasped. “I’ve seen enough.”

  It had qualified as “enough” once she watched Rayna and Z got out of the car. Could they have simply taken a walk or gotten a friendly breath of fresh air? No way. He’d gotten her to dance with him. Rayna had looked stunned, as if she couldn’t believe Z could move, let alone dance. What, like it wasn’t common knowledge? Had the woman not done her damn homework on the man?

  But the dancing was easier to take than the touching. Having to watch him stop and stroke her face so gently…then give her that hot, heavy stare as she’d kissed the backs of all his fingers…

  Shit, shit, shit.

  How was this possible? How had this cup of vanilla frosting slathered herself in front of the Dom who was supposed to be hers? Where had things gone so horridly wrong, especially after their time in the dungeon had been so right?

  It was supposed to be different now. He was supposed to have seen, to have understood. Once he’d had her in his hands, felt the potency of her submission and the strength of her devotion, he was destined to forget all the rest and surrender to their connection…just as she had.

  Rayna Chestain had changed all that.

  A tortured cry sprang from her throat.

  Mua’s snicker felt like alcohol on her open wound. He dumped salt on top of it with his musically inflected, “Are you all right, darling?”

  She inched away from the edge of the cliff. Though she mentally knew how essential she was to the man and his “plan,” instinct screamed she shouldn’t trust him for a second.