Unbind (Sub Rosa Series Book 1)

by Lynch, Sarah Michelle

  “Huh, I’m already getting that vibe,” I assured him, and then he reached over to stroke my hair and kiss me.

  “Obviously, never done that before in Vegas.” His eyebrows jumped and he grinned, suggesting we ditch the pool and do something much more exerting.

  After a torturous elevator ride, we made it into the room, pulling off each other’s clothes quick-sharp. When we saw a full-length mirror in front of one of the two big beds in the room, we both caught each other’s eyes at the same moment. Cai being a guy, we didn’t yet have a full-length mirror in his bedroom except for the tiny one on the inside of his wardrobe door.

  We’d gone without sex for a few days… I guess because of the stress of the show. So we were gagging for it.

  I climbed on the bed on all fours and Cai moved up behind me. He licked his fingers suggestively, my eyes glued to his in the reflection. I watched while he reached for my wet flesh and from the look on his face, he needn’t have moistened his fingers. He jacked off for a moment before slaking his cock through my slit, readying himself.

  “I need you hard and fast,” he panted.

  “Funny…” I screamed as he plunged inside, “…I was gonna say the same thing.”

  He took my hips in a firm grip and pulled me onto him, grinding his balls in so I could feel him cushioning my clit. I groaned from my gut, savouring the still of his full length inside me.

  In the mirror I noticed my breasts looked droopy and my hair resembled a wild Elvis cut, courtesy of the temperatures. Yet I caught the look in Cai’s eyes and he appeared so hungry, more so than ever. I flung my body back so I was against his chest and he immediately put his mouth to the side of my throat, sucking the main vein. His hands kneaded my breasts and I covered his fingers with mine.

  “Put your arms behind my neck and hold tight, beautiful.”

  I did as he commanded and then he pounded me fiercely, his grip never leaving the front of my thighs, holding me in place. We both watched as my body gave itself to him, my flanks and breasts vibrating with his swift strikes.

  When his hand covered me I screamed, crying out as he pummelled my clit, my cleft—my throat with his teeth. I unleashed myself, freeing one arm, clinging onto the back of his neck with only one hand. I pulled my nipple until it hurt and yelled his name, almost toppling forward as I pressed back hard against him and suffered the sensation of feeling so full I needed to squat low and let it happen. Again, as always, that hot splash of him made me jump once more.

  His arms tightened around me so strongly, I lolled back against him, feeling him panting in my ear. I fell on my arse as did he and his legs curled around me, his body in full possession of mine.

  He pulled my chin toward his lips and kissed me slowly, his tongue snaking around mine.

  “Marry me,” he breathed, a raspy whisper I thought I might have been imagining. “I love you more than anything in the world. Marry me.”

  “Here?” I stared, my heart pounding… from the screwing or his desperate gaze… I did not know.

  “No! Not unless you want to. Just… marry me. Say you will.”

  How could I say no to him? He was everything and he was staring at me with such anticipation, such need.

  “Yes, but not in Vegas!” I added quickly, laughing. “Yes, I’ll marry you!”

  “Yeah?” he asked, still out of breath.

  “Hell, yeah,” I nodded, turning around so we could fling our arms around one another. “I love you big style.”

  “God, you make me so happy. I want to spend my life making you feel just as happy as you make me. I fucking love you, Chlo.”

  “Prove it then,” I said, pulling on his arms to get him on top again.

  He growled, right from the bottom of his lungs, pinning me down in the pillows. I splayed my legs and it got him hard, again.

  I didn’t know how that bed was still upright by the end.

  WE could have eaten anywhere that night, but he took me to a posh burger place in The Palazzo. Burgers? With mashed potatoes on top? It had to be done! I was so high on him and his proposal and being in Vegas, I didn’t even really notice what he was eating, only that it seemed enormous whatever it was. Cai said we’d visit Cartier the next day and I gulped my burger when I heard that word.

  “I can’t let you buy me a Cartier ring. I’ll die every time I think I’ve lost it!”

  “We’ll insure it,” he winked. “Besides, Corinne texted that the gallery was packed out today. I also got an email earlier, actually… the Met are adding the prints to their Fall selection and after that, they’re loaning it to the Chicago Art Institute. They say it could teach young photographers a lot.”

  “They were anything but bland with your cut of the cloth added in,” I winked, tipping back a large swig of light beer. It tasted good. I wore Capri pants and a loose-fitting top, he wore a fitted polo shirt and board shorts—and even in the air-con—it was still warm in that restaurant.

  “So, you still wanna marry me? Otherwise I take it your reluctance is truly down to the thought of the price?”

  “It’s the price, trust me,” I assured him, taking his hand in mine. “Although… I am interested as to why now? Why ask now?”

  I kept my gaze measured, eyeing him up. He wiped his mouth and hands clean having devoured whatever food he’d ordered, then he took both my hands in his and stared into my eyes. “Just making love back there, seeing you so open and honest with me… it just caught me up. It’s something I’ve been thinking about but back in that room, I guess… and with the exhibition dealt with and sold, I feel a lot less weighed down than I did before.”

  I squeezed his hands and reached down to kiss his knuckles. “It’ll open so many doors for you. I don’t care if she even sacks me, Cai, she can’t keep putting the shutters down on everything you want to do outside the fashion world.”

  “In some sick way, she just thinks she’s protecting me.”

  “Huh. More like she’s trying to stop you from living.”

  “I know,” he agreed, taking a long breath, his cheeks puffed out. “Anyway, Cartier… tomorrow?”

  I nodded rapidly, holding my hands over my face. “Yes, please, yes!”

  “Check, please,” Cai asked, and soon we were back outside, making the long walk to the Bellagio fountains.

  IT didn’t bother me that Cai went off on his own the next morning. In fact I ordered a room-service breakfast and enjoyed it while watching the hilarious banter between a local news crew on TV. I went down to the pool, texting Cai to let him know that’s where I’d be if he got back to the room first. Yet, no. I got back to the room first at around noon, my stomach telling me I needed food. The only thing on the agenda that day was the fight later that night so I wasn’t stressing about gadding about here, there and everywhere. I was happy enough to sit by the pool and be by myself, my Kindle in hand.

  I decided to take a quick body shower and as I set the water running, I heard the hotel room door click open and shut.

  “Chloe?”

  “In here! Won’t be a mo!”

  “Okay.”

  I hurried a bit more, spreading exfoliator everywhere to keep my skin fresh and cellulite-free. I stepped under the spray to wash it all off and washed my face with some expensive stuff I’d picked up from Jennifer’s spa—it was meant to make you look five years younger within a month! Hey, maybe that’s why Cai had suddenly proposed…

  I stepped out and wrapped a towel around me. “Hey, handsome.”

  “You’ve forgotten, haven’t you?”

  I looked at him, wondering what the hell. “What?” My mouth felt dry.

  “Put your best dress on.”

  Oh shit. Cartier. My stomach fluttered tumultuously. I still couldn’t quite believe it. I thought Cartier was just a joke, but he clearly wasn’t kidding.

  I scoped what he’d been out doing—the evidence spread all over the floor in dozens of designer bags. I stooped down to empty a Ralph Lauren bag and saw the tag on one of his fa
vourite-style polo shirts.

  “How? How are these so cheap?”

  “I know,” he grinned.

  I rummaged through more. The Gap. Levis, plus numerous things he’d picked up from Neiman Marcus, Dillard’s and Macy’s. Brooks Brothers…

  “I would’ve invited you along but I needed to restock and I know you get all your stuff free so… yeah, I hunted some bargains at the outlets.”

  “I’ll say.” There was underwear, nice stuff too. Not comic at all. T-shirts, button-down shirts. Pants/trousers. A hot Levis jacket I was already envisioning him in! Yet from quickly scanning all the tags, he couldn’t have spent more than $500. You could easily fork out that on one shirt in New York.

  “Are you skimping because of my ring?”

  “What?” he took his eyes away from the TV. “No. I don’t need stuff, I just need things to actually go out of the house in so that I’m not naked.”

  He was right, and it was nice stuff, but my feeling had always been that he had loads of money so why was he bargain hunting? Unless he was thinking about buying a house, the wedding costs, stuff like that? How much was a ring from Cartier? I didn’t know!

  “I just… it’s weird when I could have spent this same amount on a pair of Manolos or something, you know?”

  “It really doesn’t matter to me so long as the jerks I work with don’t comment on me not wearing labels. In fact, they’re the only reason why I do wear labels. I’d get Wal-Mart shit if I thought I could get away with it.”

  “Shut up!” I yelled with a laugh. “You like to look good, don’t tell me that you don’t! Don’t give me that!”

  He laughed, falling back on the bed. “I just said… listen, it doesn’t matter. Do you wanna see these pants I picked up? I think you’ll like them. They’re definitely Cartier-friendly, engagement ring buying pants… so let’s see.”

  He rummaged through his bags before pulling out a pair of pants that looked pretty scrummy. Not his usual denims or drainpipe chinos. They were white, Hugo Boss, and when he pulled them up his legs, a nymph might have done a little dance in my belly. He fastened them and pulled out a brown leather belt too. He tucked in the cream shirt he was already wearing and turned.

  “Hmmm,” was all I managed, admiring his bum. Those buns weren’t half tight. I grabbed a good handful of his ass and squeezed. “They’re Cartier-proof, but not Chloe-proof.”

  “Put a dress on. I’m gonna ask them to take a photo for the grandkids.”

  “You’re the worst boyfriend on the planet! It’s official,” I said, my hand gestures exaggerated, “nobody wants a man who wears white pants and looks good in them… buys Cartier rings and admits to wanting grandkids.”

  He caught me from behind as I bent over to pick some things out of my suitcase. He brought me up to standing so I was level with him and in my ear, he whispered, “I don’t just wanna give you what you just said… I want all that… and I want to make you believe in it, too. I wanna watch you give birth to our babies, to hold them in my arms. I wanna sleep by your side every night… no more nights apart. I want to cherish you forever. I’m utterly in love with you. You make me so happy.”

  He squeezed me tight in his arms, his nose and mouth buried in my throat. I felt the first tears of happiness over this engagement seep out. I leaned into him and barely managed to say, “I love you,” I was so emotional. A delayed reaction, or something.

  He turned me in his arms and stroked his knuckles down my cheeks, touching his lips to mine. “Let’s go get you a stunning ring.”

  Seriously, how did I have any fight left in me?

  Chapter 57

  WHILE I TRIED on rings in Cartier, I didn’t fail to notice that some of the staff in the store were armed. That was new. Cai wore his white pants and I wore the white dress I’d worn that time I came to New York and he found me in his gallery. We found a ring I really wanted—a round solitaire that reminded me of old-fashioned elegance, a platinum setting with one large diamond in the centre and lots of tiny ones set in the outer band.

  While I admired some necklaces, Cai discussed the price (it was written down so I couldn’t hear) and the jeweller said he could phone the New York store and have our order ready there because they didn’t have my size in stock right then. I kind of liked it that we’d have something to look forward to back home.

  We watched the big fight that night, the atmosphere around the ring fizzing—adrenalin, testosterone and excitement palpable. Women dripped in diamonds and designer couture. Cameras flashed throughout. The roar of the crowd got you involved even if you didn’t want to be. Cai was into his boxing of course but I never expected him to be like a child at Old Trafford, going to see his first Manchester United match. He was on the edge of his seat, constantly nervous about the result.

  I asked him why he liked boxing so much and he told me, “All men want to fight, they need to fight, Chloe. These are the best fighters in the whole damn world and you don’t seriously understand why this is a big deal?”

  His eyes were smiling the whole time but all I could do was wince every time a punch was thrown and liquid flew through the air. Only six rows back, the sound was brutal but while the women grimaced, the men sat with mesmerised expressions. It was a sport and it had rules, but I still felt uncomfortable watching.

  I tugged on his arm. “Cai, I want to go back to the room. Cai… please.”

  Either he didn’t hear me the first time, or he didn’t want to know.

  I sat with my eyes closed, trying to block out the images, but I couldn’t. This was why I hid in my Sheffield flat for so long. I willed myself to be okay, but I wasn’t.

  Cai took my hand and moved in closer to say in my ear, “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s the… I can’t see, Cai. It’s the… the thing. I want to go home.”

  I was up on my feet at his insistence and he pinned me to his side as he got us out of there. In the hall, he took me in his arms and hushed me. I was crying but there was no sound coming out.

  “You never had treatment, did you?” He guessed right.

  “No. It’s the sight… it makes me feel threatened. I don’t want to be taken back there, but when I see it on that scale, I can’t help but be taken right back… to that night.”

  “Aw, I’m so sorry sweetheart. I didn’t think, didn’t know. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

  “I know.”

  “Is this why you arrange stuff neat all the time?”

  “Hey?” I sounded surprised.

  He smiled and stroked my cheek. “I’ve noticed, you know. You do stuff sometimes. Like… I don’t think you even realise. You don’t step on lines and you don’t like mess. You had no belongings when you moved in with me. You have everything ordered, inside here,” he said, tapping my skull. “I noticed but I didn’t realise there was any reason behind it all… just pushed it to the back of my mind.”

  “OCD,” I said slowly.

  “It’s not that, darling.” He shook his head, side to side.

  “It’s not? What else could it be then?” I said, perplexed.

  “PTSD. Otherwise known as shell shock. I’ve seen it in guys who’ve survived head injuries and stuff… you know. If I were to guess, I’d say delayed shock. Didn’t they do a psyche assessment on you in the hospital?”

  I grimaced, looking back. “They did but I was fine. Until about six months later when I started finding excuses to stay in all the time, after dark anyway. It comes and goes. It’s not something I can control but it’s not bad enough to make me reclusive.”

  He breathed out low, shaking his head. “I don’t understand how nobody was there for you, damn it.”

  I raised my brow. “I hid it well, Cai. We both know about that, don’t we?”

  “You’re seeing my therapist when we get back to New York. No arguments.”

  “Oh-kay.” I gave him a look. You have a therapist?

  He got me back to the hotel room and into the tub, where I quickly forgot a
nything was wrong. Except that he did in fact have a therapist…

  WE spent Sunday wandering through other hotels. We took a gondola through the Venetian and had a long lunch in the ‘Eiffel Tower’ restaurant. We ate three courses at his insistence because he had plans for us that night, and they didn’t involve dinner. Of course my mind immediately touched on sex…

  However, that wasn’t his plan. Before night fell we got in the rental still dressed in our casual clothes and he drove us to the supermarket, stocking up on bottled water, snacks and juice boxes.

  I was intrigued but he said to trust him, so I did. We got out of Vegas, the lights bright behind us as we headed directly into the night. I looked at him quizzically but an Eighties radio channel kept me amused as he drove on.

  Two hours outside Vegas, Cai stopped the car at the side of a dirt road. I had almost nodded off and when I opened my eyes to see where we were, I worried bandits or felons of some sort might try and hassle us. Yet as I looked, I saw there wasn’t a car around.

  “Let me show you something,” he gestured outside, opening his door.

  We exited the vehicle and my eyes were immediately assaulted.

  “What the hell is that?” I yelled, staring in wonder at a zillion stars in the night sky. A rainbow spectrum stared back at us!

  “The Milky Way.”

  “Holy shit!” I stared, my hands on my head, my neck still craning like it had done the whole time we’d been in Vegas. “Wow, oh my!” I screamed, when forked lightning shot across the horizon, revealing the tops of jagged mountains, like natural-born castles in the sky—illuminated by electricity. I started clapping and bouncing. “This is amazing!”

  Cai popped the trunk and got his camera out. “Help yourself to drinks. We don’t wanna get dehydrated, not on a road trip. Besides, I intend on getting you roaring drunk when we get back to the hotel… last night here and all.”

  It hit me square in the gut that it was our last night. I’d known it would only be a long weekend but something made me want to never leave. I wanted to hold on to the way this place made me feel, to how I would now always feel about it—the special association being that we had gotten engaged here.