Niall lived the big-city life for years and dated the glamorous woman that came along with it before coming back home. He’s heard about Clara for ages, but nothing prepares him for the instant attraction he feels when he first sees her. He ignores it though—knowing she’s only there for a short time.
Besides, she’s the type of woman who fit in his past, not his present. He doesn’t have anything to offer that she’d want. At least, that’s what he’d thought...before he delved into her computer and discovered exactly what Clara likes. As he learns more about her, Niall realizes he can offer her something no one else can—the chance to explore her deepest desires instead of just watching on a screen.
It should be easy—a hot fling before Clara’s job takes front and center again—but when the time comes, will either of them be able to slip free from the bonds that now connect them?
Massive knots forming in her middle, she shifted from foot to foot. God, he was pretty. It wasn’t the first time she’d thought so, and likely wouldn’t be the last. His brown hair was a mess as it was his habit to drive his fingers through it. She frowned slightly—she shouldn’t be noticing his habits. Certainly shouldn’t be noticing his long, almost elegant fingers. Shouldn’t be imagining those fingers on her skin, around her throat, heavy on her tongue.
She shook her head, dislodged the errant thoughts and brought her gaze back to Niall, jolting back when she found herself alone with him, his clear green eyes on her. A dark eyebrow lifted, and while he wasn’t grinning as he had with his customers, a smile still flirted with his full mouth.
“I came for my computer,” she blurted and nearly smacked herself as her words came out way too loudly. She inhaled deeply through her nose then stepped forward. “I mean, Maire told me she’d given you my laptop to fix. But she shouldn’t have bothered you. It’s an older one, anyway, and now is as good a time as any to replace it. So, I’ll just take it off your hands, but thank you...Mr. Walsh.”
Her face hotter than ever, she snapped her mouth closed.
“Seems a shame to replace when it’s still a perfectly good machine,” he said, reaching beneath the counter. Setting her computer and the neatly bound cord on the flat surface, he met her gaze. “All fixed...Ms. Turner.”
“Ohhhhh...” Her breath whooshed out as if she’d been struck hard in the stomach. Her heart raced, and a roar filled her ears.
“...quite a simple fix, actually.” Niall’s words finally penetrated her panicked haze.
“Oh, thank you?” She cringed at the questioning tone of her words, feeling like a complete and utter moron.
His laugh, low and dark, did things to her she didn’t want to examine, and she had to fight not to press her thighs together in response.
“You’re very welcome,” he murmured, turning slightly to grab a paper bag from the shelf behind him. “Would you mind taking these to Maire? They’re the biscuits she’s been having a craving for and nagging me about for weeks.”
“Yeah, sure,” she said slowly, moving closer to the counter.
Intense relief washed over her. He wasn’t acting any differently. Well, other than saying more words to her in the last five minutes than he had in the entire time she’d been in town, but she supposed they had something to talk about, now. And, he wasn’t treating her like he knew. He wasn’t treating her like anything other than a guest of his friends.
She lifted the laptop and took the bag from Niall, determinedly not looking at his extremely suckable fingers or his pretty face. She’d avoided a really, really awkward situation, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to create another by drooling over the man.
“I’m sorry I didn’t bring my wallet with me, but I’m good for it. How much do I owe you?”
“Owe me?” Confusion danced through his words, and without thinking, Clara looked up, took in the furrow of his brow, which had no right being so damned adorable. “For what? The biscuits? Those are a gift.”
“No, for the repairs.” she clarified.
He made a grumbling noise and shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything. Like I said, it was an easy fix. Hardly took any time at all.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind paying. Really, I—”
“Of course I’m sure,” he said firmly, catching and holding her gaze. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
Before she could respond, stupidly feeling an apology on the tip of her tongue—for what, she had no idea—the bell above the door jingled, and a couple of young girls came in, talking hurriedly between themselves.
“Make sure you get those biscuits to Maire,” he nodded toward the bag she held, “and think twice before nicking a few for yourself. Pregnant women can be vicious when it comes to their cravings.” With that, he turned to the girls. “Stella Parsons, if you’re here for your tablet, you know full well I’m not handing it over until your mum tells me to. And I highly doubt we’re at that point, yet.”
“I know. She sent me here to see if you had any work for me to do to help pay off what...” The taller of the pair, a girl with blonde hair and wide blue eyes, glanced at Clara then back to Niall. “What I still owe you.”
Despite the curiosity that filled her—she figured a town this small, Maire was bound to know the story behind this—Clara skirted around the girls and out the door. She bit back a laugh as Stella’s voice followed her out.
“But you did fix it, right, Niall? Did you—”
Clara hugged the laptop to her chest as she walked back to Maire and Brody’s, her steps lighter than before. Niall obviously hadn’t seen anything, and she didn’t have to replace her computer, after all. Definitely the best outcome to all of this. This was why her worst-case-scenario way of thinking was something she had to kick. More times than not, she worried over nothing.
She let herself into the cottage, smiling when she heard Maire singing softly in the front room. After hanging up her jacket, she picked the computer and bag again and went to her cousin.
“I come bearing biscuits.”
“Oh, bless Niall. He was finally able to get some,” Maire said happily, setting her book aside and making gimme motions with her fingers.
Clara handed the bag over quickly, smothering a smile when Maire immediately dove in.
“He was done with your computer already?” she asked after practically inhaling one of the cookies.
“Yep.” Clara patted the machine. “I tried to pay him but—”
Maire laughed. “He refused. Niall would never take money. Don’t worry, we’ll invite him over for supper or something as a thank you.”
“Okay.” Clara shrugged. “Do you need anything? Help with tonight’s supper?”
“No. I’m going to enjoy my biscuits and tea.” She nodded to the cup on the table beside her. “You go on. I know you’re dying to check and make sure everything is in order with your computer.”
“Maybe,” Clara admitted, smiling and taking a step back.
“Go away.” Maire popped another cookie in her mouth. “My book was just getting good.”
Laughing, Clara hurried up the stairs into the guest room. She plugged in the laptop then plopped on the bed, crossing her legs and setting the computer in front of her as it powered on. She stretched her arms over her head then reached behind her head to pull the elastic from her hair. Closing her eyes and groaning slightly, she massaged her sore scalp as she tilted her head side to side.
When her computer chimed, she opened her eyes. And promptly froze, arms in the air. After a moment, her heart thumped wildly and her chest ached with the increasingly rapid breaths she drew in.
In the middle of the screen was, pinned to her desktop, was an electronic sticky note. The words searing themselves into her brain.
Hello, Clara. (After this, I think we’re past the Ms. Turner-Mr. Walsh nonsense, don’t you?)
I did you a favor and closed the many tabs you had pinned in your browser. To avoid inconvenience and possibly killing your computer in future, I’d suggest some safer
sites. I think the following will meet your needs quite nicely.
Niall
Below his name was a list of web addresses—most of the URLs telling Clara exactly what type of sites they were. Dropping her arms, she slammed the computer closed and shoved it several inches away from her.
“Oh fuck,” she breathed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Excerpt from Bound: In Bounds
Running into the one-off she’s never been able to forget complicates the hell out of her summer holiday.
Ivy Wright knows several things to be true: Marrying a guy who can’t keep it in his pants is a terrible idea. So is having a drunken, secret one-night stand with her best friend’s little brother. And catching a soccer ball with one’s face never works out well for anyone. When all three collide, what was supposed to be a relaxing vacation in the English countryside becomes unbelievably awkward not to mention sexually charged.
While recovering from a potentially career-ending injury, English football player, Will Darby, runs into the one woman he’d given up hope of ever seeing again. No longer chafing at being sidelined, Will is a man on a mission. He’s never forgotten his one and only night with Ivy, and their attraction is stronger than ever.
Convincing her to give him a chance is only the first hurdle. Getting her to admit her kinks and let him give her what she needs physically and emotionally is another, but is their connection enough when her secrets keep pushing them apart?
She couldn’t believe Will would be shitty enough to cheat on his girlfriend. Though, why that thought was so hard to swallow, she had no idea. Daniel certainly hadn’t had any trouble fucking around on her, and they’d been married. She sighed. If she were being honest with herself, she’d wanted to believe the man who’d taken such tender care of her and who’d seemed attracted to her was genuine. Instead, he was just another asshole. She knew there were good guys out there, but Will obviously wasn’t one of them. And the sooner she came to terms with that, the better off she’d be.
Unfortunately, now, all she could do was imagine his hand wrapped around the handle of the crop as he brought it down on a bare ass. And since she had no clue what Peyton looked like, it was all too easy to imagine herself in that position. For fuck’s sake, she needed to get a grip.
Yanking open the bathroom door, she stopped dead, fingers clenched on the knob. Will blocked her way, his palms braced against the doorframe.
She forced herself to lift her head and meet his gaze. “I get that you’re down to fuck anything that moves, but I’m not interested.”
“Noted.”
They glared at each other, until she couldn’t stand the silence anymore. “Move.”
“Just as soon as you hear what I have to say.”
“If you’re going to tell me that she’s one of those sportsball cleat chasers, save it.”
“I assume you mean football and WAG wannabes.”
Her fist tightened on the door handle. “Whatever.”
“And Peyton? A WAG wannabe?” He snorted. “Hardly.” His smile faded, and he held Ivy motionless with his hooded gaze. “Also, she’s not my girlfriend.”
Ivy didn’t say anything.
“She’s my friend,” he continued. “Has been since uni. And yes, when neither of us are seeing other people, we sometimes have sex.” He tilted his head to the side, slightly, his gaze boring into hers. “We both have...similar interests.”
There was that mental image of him using a crop on her own willing ass again. Her gaze drifted to his hands, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he ever covered Peyton’s mouth when she came. A tiny shiver worked through her, and once again, she forced herself to meet his eyes.
“So, no,” he bit out. “When I’m with someone, I don’t sleep around, and I wouldn’t—not even for you.”
Not even for her? What the hell was that supposed to mean?
“I realize that your knob of an ex didn’t offer you that same courtesy, so I’ll cut you some slack for jumping to that conclusion about me.”
Her cheeks flushed with heat.
“I don’t blame you for being angry with him—just do me a favor and don’t take it out on me, okay?”
She took a deep breath, blinking back the stupid tears that burned her eyes. She didn’t think she had any tears left for Daniel. She wasn’t even sure they were for him. At this point, she might just be feeling sorry for herself. “You’re right—I made some pretty big assumptions. I’m sorry.”
Will’s expression softened. “I get it. I do. When your trust is broken that badly, it’s easy to think everyone sucks.”
Unable to hold his gaze any longer, she glanced away. “And I’m sorry I looked at something that was private. It wasn’t intentional, but it’s still unacceptable.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw his shoulder lift. “It happens. Just so we’re both clear here, I’m about to be very direct.” He paused, waiting until she looked at him. “I’m just as attracted to you as I was twelve years ago.” He shook his head, a rueful grin lifting his lips. “No. More. Much more. So, if the feeling is mutual, and you’re looking to fuck your ex out of your system, I’m available.”
Her mouth dropped open, and her breath caught in her throat. No one had ever spoken to her like that before. Not even Daniel. Between Will’s unwavering eye contact and his blunt words, her stomach flipped uncontrollably, and her pussy was suddenly slick and needy. Somehow, she doubted she’d ever get used to his straightforwardness. She moistened her suddenly dry lips. “That’s...that’s good to know.”
“And if you want to experiment with breath play...submission...pain play—whatever you want—I’m your guy.”
Her lips parted, and her gasp sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness of the morning. She swallowed hard. “Also good to know.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth and hovered there before climbing to her eyes again—his desire obvious and intense. She wished she had the balls to close the distance and kiss him and damn the consequences. But she didn’t.
Instead, she swallowed hard and grasped for something—anything—to pierce the bubble of intimacy surrounding them. “I should probably get ready. I—I need to work on lesson plans for the kids.”
She could tell by the tilt of his lips that he didn’t believe her, but he took a step back and gave her a little more space.
She cleared her throat. “Thank you for looking after me last night.”
“Any time, love.” He moved over to the bedside table and picked up his phone. “I’m going to head up to the house and take a shower. Is there anything you need?”
Yeah. You. Inside me. Immediately. “Nope. I’m good."
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About the Author
Bronwyn Green is an author, blogger, and compulsive crafter. She lives in Michigan with her husband, two children and four somewhat psychotic cats. When not frantically writing, she can be found binge-watching Netflix while working on her latest craft project.
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Also by Bronwyn Green
Bound: Drawn That Way
Bound: The Professor’s Student
Bound: Out of Sync
Bound: In Bounds
Rising Blood
Finding You
Unexpected Gifts
For more information on these and other titles, please visit
www.bronwyngreen.com
Rewritten (The Bound Series Book 7) Page 27