by Anara Bella
Falling for a hot guy is not in her plans. He’s got a different agenda.
Nothing much ever happens in Forsythia Falls—except the only robbery anyone can remember, which leaves Asia Smith tied up in her grandmother’s antique shop. Just her luck, her rescuer turns out to be Marcus Thorne, the single most tempting morsel of male flesh she’s ever encountered. As he unties her knots, his touch sorely tests her resolve to avoid any involvement with the male species.
A bestselling author, Marcus is used to women throwing themselves at him. Asia’s resistance to his charm is a whole new challenge, a temptation he has no intention of resisting. All he has to do is break down her defenses and get at the soft, willing woman he suspects is hiding inside.
As chance—and her meddling grandmother—throw them together, Asia tries to remember why she shouldn’t just follow her friends’ advice to jump on Marcus and ride him until she can’t see straight. In one storm-swept night, she throws caution to the wild wind and savors pleasures she’d almost forgotten.
Except some old hurts just won’t stay in the past. Marcus peels away her inhibitions with sizzling ease. But now comes the biggest challenge of all—winning her trust.
Warning: This book contains a resistant damsel in distress, a sexy-as-hell hero who can cook, adventures with rope, great food, and oodles of red-hot sex.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520
Macon GA 31201
Bound and Determined
Copyright © 2011 by Anara Bella
ISBN: 978-1-60928-483-1
Edited by Heidi Moore
Cover by Angela Waters
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: August 2011
www.samhainpublishing.com
Bound and Determined
Anara Bella
Dedication
To my cousin, Sylvia. You’ve always been the sister of my heart.
To Samantha Storm and Leah Braemel, the best critique partners ever. Your support and friendship are priceless.
To my editor, Heidi. I can’t thank you enough for all you do.
Chapter One
The next time she was tied up, it would only be because it was her idea.
Asia Llewellyn Smith squirmed around trying to find a more comfortable position, but no matter what she did it just wasn’t happening. She moved this way and that, contorted herself into every conceivable position until she felt like a pretzel, but nothing worked. With a frustrated groan, she gave up on the comfort thing and flopped back against the wall.
What the hell should she do?
Her gaze scanned the immediate vicinity but there wasn’t much to see. Trussed up like a pig ready for roasting on a spit, all she could do was take in what was directly in front of her—the backside of the cash register counter in her grandmother’s antique shop.
Since she’d already checked it out thoroughly, she knew there wasn’t anything of use back here. Of course, that didn’t stop her from scouring the cubbyholes again, as if by sheer force of will something helpful would miraculously appear. But no, the slots still only held the usual paraphernalia needed for cashing out customers. It didn’t take a genius to know that neither blank receipts, paper, pens, nor ribbon were going to help her out of her current predicament. Not unless she could set fire to the paper with her nonexistent laser-beam vision and burn the ropes off her wrists. All without burning her hands to a crisp or setting the store on fire.
Yeah, right.
And to make matters worse, dust balls, lint and flakes of paper taunted her with their unwanted presence. Who knew it was this dirty in the back corners of these stupid cubbyholes?
She made a mental note to give them a good cleaning first chance she got and refocused on looking for something that might help her escape these damned ropes. But nope. Nada. No way. Wasn’t happening.
The only thing that might have helped was the pair of scissors lying just out of reach on the countertop. But since she couldn’t stand, they may as well have been in Timbuktu for all the good they did her up there.
“Damn it.”
In a sudden burst of complete exasperation, she wriggled and twisted her wrists and ankles with frenzied frustration until the pain from the ropes digging in was almost intolerable. With a final freaked-out flourish she gave up and threw herself back against the wall. If she ever got her hands on the creep who’d robbed the store and tied her up, he’d be sorry he’d ever stepped foot in the door.
And damn it all to hell, the stupid ropes were still digging in, as tight now as they’d been the last time she’d tried to loosen them a couple of minutes ago. She ignored the tiny voice that said the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again hoping for a different outcome. After all, it wasn’t crazy to try to get oneself free. It’d be crazy not to.
She slumped as much as she was able to in her current awkward position and tried to use her brain instead of her nonexistent brawn. Think, girl. Think. Maybe if she screamed her head off, someone walking past the store would hear her this time. It was certainly worth a try.
She took a deep breath, preparing to belt out the mother of all cries for help when the friendly tinkling of the bell over the front door of Astrid’s Antiques rang out.
Thank God. The cavalry had arrived. “Hello! Is somebody there? I need some help over here!”
There was a slight pause and then, “Hello? Where are you?”
Oh no. Why’d it have to be him? Would nothing go her way today? She gritted her teeth as the deep, ultra-sexy voice tripped down her spine, zapping awake feelings she thought she’d conquered long ago. The fact that she wasn’t the least bit interested in feeling these kinds of feelings didn’t matter because there they were doing the fandango in her chest anyway.
She clamped down on the unwanted sexual awareness with a firm determination only two years of relentless stomping could accomplish. One thing she knew for sure, men were definitely overrated. At least that’s what she kept telling herself.
For a moment, she was tempted not to say anything back to her would-be savior just so she didn’t have to face him in her current predicament. Fleeting hope rose. Hell, he might even go away without looking for her.
She pondered which was worse. Being hog-tied by a petty criminal or having this guy find her all trussed up? She closed her eyes and for a moment wished the earth would swallow her whole.
And then she relented.
Like it or not, being freed was more important than the humiliation of being caught in this totally stupid, embarrassing situation.
It still took her two tries to get the words out. “Over here. Behind the cash register.”
The sound of solid footsteps got closer until a handsome face, complete with square-cut jaw and electric-blue eyes peered over the top of the counter. “My God, what happened?”
Oh, hell. Even in her current jam, the man’s sex appeal zapped her right between the eyes. Just like it always did. The passage of time didn’t seem to lessen the impact either. No matter how many times she saw him. He was gorgeous beyond belief.
In a rough-hewn, too-yummy-for-words sort of way that looked just as good in a suit as it did in well-worn jeans.
If you liked that kind of look, that is. Which she most assuredly did not. At all. Nuh-uh, not her.
She stomped on the lone dissident voice manifesting itself as a flicker of lust in her belly. Who needed men anyway?
Annoyed she’d had to snuff lustful thoughts out of her head in the first place, she snapped back to attention and stiffened her spine. Metaphorically speaking that is, since she couldn’t move much so her literal spine was going to have to stay all wonky for the time being. “What do you think happened? I was robbed.”
Whoa, that came out snarky. Marcus Thorne sure did have a tendency to bring out her bitchy side. Actually, all gorgeous men had that effect on her at the best of times and this wasn’t even close to the best of times for her. But Marcus got under her skin more than any other guy ever had. He put her on red alert with a vengeance every time she saw him. Yep, Mr. Hunkorama was the last person she wanted to see. Ever. And her current vulnerable state only served to make her bad mood worse.
This was turning out to be one hell of a day. Starting with the coffee she’d spilled all over her morning paper right up to being robbed at gunpoint and trussed up like a calf ready for branding.
And as if all of that weren’t enough, her nose itched.
Not just a little bit mind you, but enough to make her eyes water. And no way in hell was she asking him to scratch it. She’d let her nose fall off first.
She sighed. Yep, one hell of a day. She was uncomfortable, embarrassed and just plain mad as a stepped-on hornet. Way beyond trying to be nice to anyone. Even someone who was going to save her ass.
Not when the would-be hero turned out to be the one man who was a chink in her armor. The single most tempting morsel of male flesh she’d ever encountered in her entire life. Bar none. To say she resented the effect he had on her with all her being was putting it mildly.
Hunky Boy hurried around the counter and knelt beside her. He either didn’t notice her caustic tone or chose to ignore it. “Are you hurt? How long have you been like this?” Leaning closer, he examined the ropes on her wrists.
“I’m fine.” She blew a wayward strand of her perpetually flyaway blonde hair out of her eyes. “Feels like I’ve been tied up for hours, but I’d guess it’s been about thirty minutes. Plenty of time for the jerk to be long gone and way past long enough for my hands and feet to go numb.”
“Let’s see if I can get these ropes off you.”
Thank God.
For several minutes there was no sound except the soft classical music her grandmother insisted on playing in the store. Well, that and their combined soft breathing as he worked at loosening the ropes.
Their unaccustomed closeness heightened her awareness of everything about him. How great he smelled, how big he was, how annoyingly irresistible she found him. His callused fingers kept brushing her skin as he worked at the knots, making her all soft and fluttery inside. And she so didn’t want to feel soft and fluttery. When that happened, lustful thoughts couldn’t be far behind.
Sure enough, Asia’s wild imagination sprang to heated images of those long fingers doing a whole lot of things she didn’t want to dwell on. Like what those fingers would feel like on other parts of her body. Secret parts. Parts that cried out for a man’s touch. Parts she’d ignored by choice for the past couple of years. And for good reason too.
Men made women messy. They made you lose yourself. Lose control of who you were.
And open yourself up to getting hurt.
Irritated by the way just being around this guy made her think of sex, she reminded herself that most men were jerks who wanted to take control of your life. Especially the full-of-themselves gorgeous ones like Marcus.
Impatient to be free and put some distance between them, she craned her neck, trying to see if he was making any progress. But nope, she couldn’t see a thing past his touchable head of chestnut hair.
Damn it. What was taking so long? “You making any headway back there?”
“Almost got it.”
She bit back the “hurry up already” that jumped to her lips. He was certain to be doing his best and it wasn’t his fault the thief was some kind of idiot savant with rope. “How much longer?”
Damn it, she was starting to sound whiny. She hated it when she sounded whiny. When that happened, pleading couldn’t be far behind.
“Almost there. Just this last little bit to go.”
He shifted his position and Asia gritted her teeth again, ignoring the frisson of goose bumps dancing along her nape as his warm breath caressed the sensitive skin there.
Oh God, when will this torture end?
She was ready to promise her first born to the entire gamut of pagan gods just to be free and not have to endure his closeness any longer when he finally leaned back.
Her sense of relief was fleeting at best. His keen blue gaze locked with hers, shocking her senses with the sheer pull of his animal magnetism.
“That does it.”
Her belly fluttered, her breath hitched, her face heated. Oh yeah, that did it all right. She was sucked right into the vortex of his spell.
She blinked. “What?”
For a second she wondered what he was talking about. And then the momentary stupor passed and she noticed her hands were free. “Oh. Right. The ropes. Thank you.”
She brought her hands forward with aching slowness. Her arms felt like lead and the shift in position had her shoulders screeching their relief in an achingly unpleasant way.
And her hands, God, they may have looked the same as they always did but they felt ten times their normal size, as if they had invisible pillows wrapped around them. And how deceptive was that, because they weren’t protected from anything.
When the blood came rushing back into her fingers, it started up an excruciating knife-like tingling that all but took her breath away. She fought back tears from the weird stinging pain. In truth, she didn’t know what to do with herself. What to do to make it hurt less.
To distract herself, she began the agonizing process of straightening her legs. It was slow, excruciating work because her legs also felt like lead, and she didn’t dare use her hands for fear of making the pain throbbing through them even worse.
Suddenly, Marcus’s hands were there, helping to bring her legs around. It was a show of consideration that took her by surprise, although it shouldn’t have. He wasn’t a monster. Except in her overheated, lust-filled mind, and that was only because she didn’t want to feel the way she did about him.
But damn it. The last thing she needed was a guy who was hot, smart and kind. Someone shoot her already. Please. At the very least it would take her mind off of him.
“Let’s get these off too.” Marcus started fiddling with the ropes still around her ankles, his complete concentration evident in the tilt of his head and the way he bit his full bottom lip.
Lips that looked firm and yet soft at the same time. Damn, but she wanted to kiss those lips. She licked her own in response and his gaze followed the movement, dwelling there a long moment before moving up to her eyes.
She felt herself flush at the intensity in his look. She wanted to look away, knew she should, but couldn’t seem to do it. Something hot and electric flashed between them. Before long she was leaning in, yearning growing inside her exponentially.
When he broke eye contact and looked back at what he was doing she felt the loss of connection with him like a physical blow. If she’d been standing, she wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d fallen to her knees.
In that moment it had seemed as if time had stopped, and she was kind of surprised to realize it hadn’t. His fingers still moved with confidence over the ropes, working to loosen them, to free her.
Aware of him on every level possible, she again tried to ignore the feel of his fingers as they grazed the sensitive skin surrounding her ankles. Well, on the parts that still had
feeling left in them.
Dear God, how did this guy manage to turn her into a sex-crazed nymphomaniac anytime he was near? No other man could turn the act of freeing her into some kind of erotic fantasy. How he did it, she didn’t know since she’d never before even dreamed of being tied up for sex. She seriously needed to get a grip.
But even as she had the thought, she shivered from the delicious contact as if he’d stroked her in an intimately sexual way. She tried to be strong. She really did. But it was useless.
Instead she fought between wishing those big, strong hands would continue on an exploratory quest up her leg to the apex of now-throbbing need and wondering how she’d endure his touch at all if he did.
To cut off any more wayward thoughts about sex, she focused on the pain in her hands. The tingling had eased somewhat, but not enough for real relief. She was grateful for the distraction it afforded her. Suddenly, she was all tapped out.
She didn’t know how much more stimulation she could handle from the superhot stud who was saving her, and who was the very last thing she needed in her life.
No matter how tempting he was, no matter how much she wanted him, he was major big bad news for her.
Chapter Two
Marcus glanced at the uncomfortable and clearly annoyed woman sitting before him. God, even when she was glaring at him she took his breath away.
Beautiful and distant, Ms. Asia Smith was an interesting conundrum. She was the main reason he kept coming back to this shop. Just so he could see her again.
Having grown up with four older sisters, he felt like he’d pretty much seen it all. That there wasn’t any mystery left when it came to women. And he sure wasn’t used to women who could confound him. He had to admit, that probably added to Asia’s appeal. As did the way she reacted to him. Most women seemed drawn to him. But not Asia. This woman was different.
If he took her at face value he would have run for the hills long ago, but therein lay the conundrum. On the surface her attitude screamed back off, but her body language and a certain something in her eyes told a completely different tale.