Bound Beneath His Pain: A Dirty Little Secrets Novel

by Stacey Kennedy

  Only a minute passes before my door opens. “All clear, ma’am.”

  “Thank you.” I exit the car, finding that I’m standing in front of Phoenix.

  “Please follow me,” Levi says, striding forward.

  I stare at his strong back, following behind him as we enter the left tower of the hotel. Passing beneath crystal chandeliers and stepping across marble floors, I follow Levi toward an elevator at the back, behind the lobby.

  Once inside, Levi hits the button for the top floor and soon I’m exiting the elevator and Levi is leading me down the hallway, finally stopping at a door with gold trim. “You’ll find Micah on the balcony.” He opens the door for me.

  I instantly regret my decision to ask for a private dinner instead of a very public one. I’m not sure I trust myself alone with Micah with a bed nearby. The epic mistake of our date might be me jumping him. I turn to Levi and smile. “Thank you.”

  “Enjoy your evening, ma’am.” Levi grins kindly, warming his stern eyes, yet strength lives there, too. I oddly like it. He makes me feel safe. “Micah will call me to take you home whenever you’re ready.”

  “Perfect, and please call me Allie.”

  Levi hesitates and then his smile softens. “Okay, Allie.”

  I leave him behind and enter the hotel room, feeling proud that I broke through the well-trained soldier to the more personal side of him. My heels click against the marble floors as Levi closes the door behind me.

  Soft piano music is playing through the speakers in the living room as I enter the space. I notice personal items laying about the suite, like a laptop and cellphone on the coffee table. Which isn’t much of a surprise since Micah already told me he stays here because it’s close to Holt.

  Straight ahead, I see two open French doors, the curtains are waving in the wind, and I move toward them. The moment I pass through the threshold, my breath becomes stuck in my throat, instant arousal tightening my stomach and setting me ablaze.

  Standing by the steel railing of the balcony, Micah’s not wearing his jacket or his vest that I usually see him in, he’s wearing black dress pants and a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up. He’s not wearing a tie, the few buttons open showing a bit of his bare chest.

  In a suit, Micah wows me.

  A little disheveled, he blows my friggin’ mind.

  The heat he conjures inside me roars like flames through my veins, pumping swiftly, settling right between my thighs, where all my logical thoughts are stolen and only my carnal desires remain.

  “Allie.” His haughty smile tells me he knows I like what I see.

  “Micah.” I step toward him, taking in the view around me.

  A table is set up next to Micah with candles lit. The San Francisco Bay, Golden Gate Bridge, and the surrounding city sparkling in the dark night are all visible from this patio.

  Everything is perfect.

  The view. The powerful man. The glamour. It’s everything a woman should want.

  Yet it’s everything I don’t.

  Micah

  The wind picks up the second Allie steps out onto the patio and her long hair waves around her face. So much beauty stands before me I can barely contain my desire to claim it. Inside, I’m being pulled to her. I can’t refuse the call. Her spirit shines bright. She exudes warmth. I want to bottle up what she has to offer me and keep it for myself.

  She draws closer, and with each step I begin to take note of her stiff posture and my body becomes equally weighted with my own disappointment. I know women, inside and out. I understand them. Just as I know now that Allie wants to be anywhere but here with me.

  One second I have her lusting over me.

  The next she’s gone from my reach, just that easily.

  I can’t shield the bite in my voice. “What about this…” I wave out over the romantic private dinner I planned for her, “is so disappointing to you?”

  Eyes wide, she freezes, standing only a few feet away. “It’s”—she draws in a deep breath before speaking again—“beautiful, but it’s not my type of thing. I’m sorry if that showed on my face.”

  I lift a brow at her. “A fancy, romantic dinner is not your type of thing?” Is this woman for real?

  She laughs softly and gives a slight shrug. “Not really, no. But this is nice, really. Gosh, what a view.”

  I don’t like anyone trying to placate me. In fact, I hate that I can’t get a read on her, almost as if she has barriers against me. The patio lights glow over her, and I become lost in her eyes. They’re so honest—they spin the world around me, making me realize I asked the wrong question. “Tell me, then: what would be the perfect date to you?”

  She hesitates, her eyes searching mine. “You honestly want to know?”

  “Do enlighten me.”

  “Oh, well, it’s pretty simple, really.” She takes another step toward me, and the wind breezes by again, lifting her skirt slightly. Even the universe is tempting me with what I can’t have. I look at her face as she continues. “Eating burgers and fries and chatting about personal stuff is more romantic to me than fancy china and a five-course meal.”

  “You want to talk about personal stuff?” I frown.

  “Yup, the deep stuff.”

  I arch a brow. “The deep stuff?”

  “That’s right.” She closes in, staring up at me with those warm eyes. “Something personal. One question.”

  My skin crawls at the direction she wants me to go. But can I release her, which I know will happen if I refuse her, I ask myself. No. Can I cross a boundary that I’ve set in place to keep a safe distance in relationships? Apparently, with her, I can, and I don’t overthink my choice. “What do you want to know?”

  She pauses. “Tell me why Holt’s Day is so personal to you.”

  I swallow deeply, my mental alarms screaming at me not to answer her, as they did the day of the event, though I’m not shocked she won’t let this drop. She sensed something that day. Of course she’s curious. She hasn’t been the first one, but no one has ever cleverly backed me into a corner, demanding an answer either. “Did you know that my mother died?” I ask her.

  “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t,” she replies softly.

  “She died from breast cancer when I was seven years old.” Emotion rises in my throat and I forcibly swallow again, shoving the memory away. “I don’t recall much about her anymore, just faint memories.” I pause, moving to the chair at the dining table. I take a seat, bowing my head and resting my arms on my knees. “My father raised me, after she passed away weeks after my birthday.” I look up at Allie then, seeing her listening intently to me, seeing the appreciation in her eyes for my honesty. I don’t pretend to understand why my demons interest her, but this won’t break me to tell her. “Have you heard about my father?”

  She nods, clutching the shawl around her shoulders. “I’ve read a little bit about him in magazine articles.”

  I’m not surprised. Everyone in San Francisco knew the name Anthony Holt. He was a self-made multimillionaire who dominated the financial industry. “I learned many lessons from my father as a child, but they were only to shape me into being a businessman.”

  She moves next to me, resting against the edge of the small round table. “I’ve heard of men like him. Loveless, right?”

  There in her eyes is a common understanding and something familiar, as if she’s been through what I have, but I find that hard to believe. “My father was a ruthless businessman, nothing more and nothing less, and he molded me to be like him. He was also the exact opposite of what I remember of my mother. Where he was cold and demanding, she was kind and loving.” I force the tale of my past through my tight chest and inhale, begging my lungs to expand and ease the tension. “I imagine my mother would’ve been happy with anything I did. But I learned from a young age that to succeed in my father’s eyes I needed to do better than him in business.”

  Allie pauses to consider me. “Do you hate him for that?”

  “No. I fel
t something worse for him. I didn’t care about him at all.” Her shoulders droop, spine bows, but I continue, as now it’s important to tell her everything. “The second I had made enough money, I bought his business and kicked him out of his own company. Then I dismantled it.”

  Her nose wrinkles as she steps away from the table. Who would do that to their own father? echoes in the air between us. Well, I could and I did, and I remember the dark feeling I experienced that day. “And you know what?”

  “What?” she whispers, hugging her shawl to her chest.

  I shut my eyes, recalling in my mind what he said to me that day. Now you’re a man, Micah. Now you’ve made me proud. Coldness sinks into my bones when I open my eyes to Allie. “It was the only time he told me that he was proud of me.”

  Her pretty, soft eyes are searching mine, and I know she’s trying to figure me out and understand how this story relates to her original question. “What happened after that day?” she finally asks.

  “He died the next afternoon of a heart attack.”

  The patio lighting is giving her skin a delicate glow and I can’t look away from her when she offers a small smile. “It’s good you had the chance to hear him say that he was proud of you.”

  “Is it?” I’m starting to realize Allie’s affection has no boundaries. Even as I tell her my demons, she smiles in the face of them. “His pride didn’t make me feel better, it made me feel worse.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I realized that I became the man I couldn’t even conjure a single feeling for.” There’s so much gentleness radiating from Allie that I think, for this second, she can erase the coolness in my soul. “So, to answer your question, the reason why I organized Holt’s Day is because children don’t see me as a businessman. They don’t see me as a threat. They want nothing from me except my time. They have an untouched happiness that I once saw in my mother.” I pause, then tell Allie a truth I haven’t told anyone before. “Holding the event reminds me of her and reminds me of the way she used to look at me.”

  Silence.

  I bow my head, unable to look at the heavy emotion filling Allie’s face, realizing my heart is banging against the walls of my chest and my fingers are in fists. I expect her to walk away. For her sake, she should. What I did to my father must disgust her. The man I’ve become must repulse her. I’m bare to her, in a way I haven’t been to anyone in a long time, and she’s seeing past all my defenses, as she seems to do so very easily.

  “You know what I think?” she whispers.

  Her soft, sweet voice soothes the tightness of my muscles. I lift my head and find her soulful eyes staring right through me. “What do you think?”

  “I think that you’re more than what your father tried to make you.”

  I have a second to absorb the shock of her statement, wondering how she can possibly see me in such a positive light, before her lips are on mine, throwing me off completely. It’s not her kiss making me struggle; it’s the power behind her lips pressing tightly against mine. It’s the magic in the offer she’s giving me now to take her in any way I want and need.

  My legendary discipline collapses, shattering to pieces. I give all of myself to her through the kiss, unable to deny her. Each soft swipe of her lips pours a single truth between us. Allie, with a soul beaming with light, wants to heal the darkness in me that I showed her at Holt’s Day and that I’m admitting to now. Maybe she even thinks she can rid me of my demons.

  Truth be told, right now, right here, I want her to.

  Chapter 8

  Allie

  I can’t recall how we got into the bedroom. I’m not sure how much time has passed since my lips met Micah’s. I’m not even sure what made me kiss him or what made me decide not to stop. All I know is his strong body pressing against mine as he’s lowering me to my feet after being held in his arms. His tight grip eases around my waist; his mouth expertly moving across mine with long, sensual swirls of his tongue, while he tangles his fingers into my hair, tugging my head to where he wants it. He kisses in ways I don’t know and have never experienced. It’s unhurried and intent and powerful, and I’m melting under the way he feels against my skin. My body burns when he groans, low and deep, making me wet. His kiss turns raw, primal, and now I know a new Micah. A man who isn’t holding back or being careful with me.

  He wants me.

  He’s taking me.

  And I’m going to let him.

  His fiery touch cements my decision to stop fighting against something that I knew from day one was a losing battle. There’s something here, something special, something so damn undeniable I can no longer pretend I don’t want it. I can’t refuse the way my heart reaches for him. I also can’t ignore the desire and electricity between us.

  He makes me feel like I’m his for this night.

  I want this. I want him.

  A needy sound I don’t recognize rushes from my mouth, and his soft masculine growl echoes my noises. Both of his hands tighten on my hips before they are sliding up my body, where he gathers my hair, pulling the strands over my shoulder. I feel the tug on the zipper of my dress and I’m shivering when he pulls the fabric from my shoulders, leaving me in my black bra and panties. I open my eyes, looking into his, finding them smoldering as he flicks the clasp on my bra and slowly eases the straps off my shoulders.

  His eyes…Dear God, they’re nothing I’ve ever seen before, and I’m trembling now, both nervousness and excitement running through me. He’s a mix of immense power and complete focus, and is exactly as I imagined he’d be once I said yes, only I couldn’t have anticipated what this would do to me. Goosebumps prickle my flesh when he glances at my breasts, stares for a good few seconds before he leans down and kisses the top of each, almost as a thank-you for letting him touch me. It’s oddly sensual and sweet, all the same.

  When he takes my nipples between his fingers and thumbs, pulling slightly, he looks me in the eye. I moan in surprise, as it appears those rough tugs are directly connected to my hot sex and each pull ignites a deep throb inside of me.

  “You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs, giving two more hard pulls, leaving me wiggling with sensation. His smile becomes heated as he tilts his head down, cupping my breast, sucking my nipple to the roof of his mouth. My eyes flutter shut as he releases the taut bud, moving on to the other nipple, using the same wicked swirls of his tongue.

  I feel the void of his wet mouth when he leans away, sliding his lips off my breast. I’m breathless now, watching him lower to one knee before me, and my teeth clench when he hooks his fingers into the sides of my panties and pulls them down.

  “So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, tossing my panties aside, staring boldly at my shaved sex.

  My cheeks are flushing with arousal, not embarrassment, as he reaches for the buttons of his shirt, slowly flicking each one open. He continues examining every inch of my skin, licking his lips. I feel myself trembling, anticipating him touching me. His gaze travels up my stomach to my breasts, and the side of his mouth arches when he lingers on the pucker of my nipples. I lock my knees, feeling weak when he tosses his shirt aside, but then surprise overwhelms me.

  He chuckles. “Not what you expected?”

  “No, not at all,” I tell him.

  It’s not his ripped abs, sexy indents at his hips, or the way this guy screams masculinity that’s shocking me; I expected his body to be this hot. I drag my fingers over his muscular shoulders, following the design of the black and gray tattoos covering his wide shoulders, muscular arms, and firmly squared bare chest. “You hide these well.” I can’t even make everything out in the design; his tattoos look more like a giant piece of artwork all blended together, but I do see Greek mythology is an influence. There’s an angel on one shoulder and a warrior on the other.

  Just as I’m getting lost in the meaning behind his tattoos, he tucks a finger under my chin, arching an eyebrow at me. “Let’s not focus so much on my body, shall we?” He gives me one very thoro
ugh once-over, grinning devilishly. “Not when I have this body in front of me.”

  I tighten my hands against his shoulders watching him lean in and kiss my stomach. Oh, God…My legs begin trembling as he moves lower…and lower…I ache in places I never knew could ache before, when he places his face by my sex and inhales deeply. His eyes flutter, the side of his mouth slowly arching, as if my scent alone brings him pleasure. He drags his hands up my quivering thigh, until he’s squeezing my ass firmly. The low moan he gives does more for me than any foreplay ever has before. And when his head lowers, and I feel the long slow lick of his tongue across my clit, my head falls back, and a hiss slides through my teeth. I thread my fingers into his hair, holding him tight against me, urging him to take me where I want to go. He’s teasing me with light licks, leaving me hungry for more. He likes this. I can tell. He wants me to crave him.

  When I begin to shake, his deep chuckle brushes warm air against my sensitive flesh and he listens to my desires, inserting a finger. My eyelids pinch shut and I get what I want, more of Micah. Warmth is spreading across me as he moves his finger too slowly, in and out, in a perfect rhythm.

  I grip the strands of his hair tight, my mouth falling open with the pleasure, as another finger joins his first and fills me. Looking at him, I find his focus solely on my face. “God, don’t stop,” is all I can say.

  It’s all so much. Micah’s so much. His touch is so much. His pleasure is so much.

  I’m falling into him; losing myself in the rich power exuding from him. But then his eye contact is gone and his tongue slides over my sex in a way not to pleasure me, but to taste me, and I become undone.

  My entire body shakes and trembles and his tongue begins to swirl in circles overtop my bundle of nerves. I’m gasping and moaning in appreciation, until he sucks the bud between his teeth, while pumping his fingers faster inside of me. Every nerve ending awakens and the choice is not mine when I come into orgasm. He’s stealing the pleasure right of my body, and I can only follow, crashing into wave after wave of mind-numbing sensation, until all I am is a quivering mess of satisfaction.