Tie Me Down Tight (Breaking the Rules)

by Cathryn Fox

  “I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me, and I totally understand where you’re coming from.”

  “It’s like this, Angel. If we go out there, we wouldn’t have a moment alone.” Plus,” he added with a wink, “you wouldn’t get to taste my pie.”

  “From the way you keep building it up, I’m guessing it’s pretty damn good.”

  “Good? Nope, delicious.”

  She arched a brow. “Pretty confident, aren’t you?” As he teased her, she could feel her earlier apprehension ebbing away. Away from the lights and audiences, Dylan was just a guy kicking back and baking a pie, and she was just a girl who was enjoying watching him, and anxious to taste the end product.

  He wagged his eyebrows. “Confident enough to set a little wager.”

  She eyed him. “So you’re an actor, a cowboy, and a betting man.” He shot her a sexy grin, and when her panties nearly disappeared, she resisted the urge to add magician to the list. She drummed her fingers on the granite countertop, going for a bored look. “Continue.”

  “If it’s not the best pie you’ve ever tasted, you win. If it is the best pie you’ve ever tasted, I get to put you over my knee and give you your birthday spankings.”

  A thrill rushed through her. How was that losing? “And if it’s not?” she asked. “What do I win?”

  He opened the bag of flour and she grabbed a mixing bowl, rolling pin, and measuring cups for him. He’d even brought a pie plate. Guess he thought she wasn’t the domestic type. Wrong. She liked being in the kitchen but rarely spent time there with only herself to cook for.

  “You tell me,” he said.

  Hmmm… She tapped her chin and thought about it. “Okay, I got it. If I win, you wear your chaps again, no jeans.”

  Talk about a win/win.

  He laughed, and held his hand out. “Deal.”

  She slid her hand into his, and the warmth of this palm set her body on fire. “Deal,” she managed to get out.

  “Okay, now let’s do this.” He took off his watch and set it aside.

  “You can’t wear your watch and make a pie?”

  “This is serious business, Angel. I can’t have any distractions.”

  She laughed, loving this side of him. He made her comfortable and was easy to be with. “Will a cold beer or glass of wine distract you?”

  “I’d love a beer.”

  Angie went to her fridge and pulled out two beers as Dylan began constructing the pie. She poured them into mugs and stood beside him. His hands were in the dough, so she tipped the glass to his mouth.

  He took a sip, and she pulled it away too fast. Beer dribbled down his chin and landed on his T-shirt. She laughed and wiped it with her fingers, her hand lingering on his chest for a moment. As she reveled in the feel of his hard muscle, she brushed her tongue over her bottom lip.

  “Angel?”

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “As much as I like you touching me, you’re making this hard.”

  “Oh.” She pulled her hand back. “Sorry.” Then, when he gave her a sexy grin, something came over her and she asked, “What exactly is it I’m making hard?”

  A tortured sound crawled out of his throat as he turned her way. He held up his dough-covered hands. “Don’t make me come after you.”

  She hurried around to the other side of the counter and sat. Her gaze went to his arms, and she enjoyed the way they flexed and relaxed again as he worked the dough.

  “What part of Texas are you from?” he asked.

  “How did you know I was from Texas?”

  “You have a lot of tells. You should never play poker.”

  “Tells? What are you talking about?”

  “You see, when you’re nervous you rub your thumb and index finger together.” He held his hand up and showed her. “Like this.”

  Wow, no one had ever noticed that about her before. Then again, no one had ever paid that close attention.

  “And when you’re aroused…” His glance left her eyes and dropped to her mouth. “You do this thing with your tongue that drives me just a little bit insane.”

  Feeling bold, she swiped her tongue over her bottom lip. “Oh, you mean this?”

  “Uh, yeah,” he said his voice dropping an octave.

  She did it a second time and watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as if going down for the third count. “You’re kind of a bad girl, Angel.”

  She shook her head. “There’s something about you that does it to me. I’m not normally so bold,” she admitted honestly.

  “Good.”

  “Why good?”

  “Because I want you to be yourself around me, to feel great about who you are and never be embarrassed.” Her heart fluttered a little. What the hell? When had her heart ever fluttered. She wasn’t sure, but what she did know was that she liked this honest and open man standing before her. She liked him a lot. “When did you move to New York?” he asked.

  “I grew up in Trinity in East Texas, moved to New York for school a few years back.”

  “Have you always wanted to be an actress?”

  “No, not always. Tell me about you,” she said, redirecting the conversation because she didn’t like talking about herself. “Where did you grow up, and have you always wanted to act?” Even though she’d seen him in a few interviews, and read some articles, she didn’t know him that well.

  “Grew up on Brooks Ranch in Mason. My family is still there. And yeah, I always wanted to act. Chase and I used to watch all the old movies, and even though it was expected we’d take over the farms, we had bigger dreams.”

  “Chase?”

  “Chase Brooks, my cousin. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “I don’t know why I never put that together before.”

  “He’s great. You’d like him.”

  She took a sip of her beer. “He’s an amazing dancer.”

  Dylan scoffed. “He inherited all the dancing genes.”

  “I don’t know.” Her mind went back to the way he moved his hips, and she wet her mouth, swiping away the beer on her bottom lip. “I think you held your own pretty well last night.” She should have known Chase was his cousin. The two had the same build and looked an awful lot alike. That’s when it hit her. “Oh my God, was he the one you were filling in for?”

  He pressed a dough-covered finger to his lips. “Shhh.”

  “My lips are sealed,” she said.

  He laughed and said, “He’s a kinky bastard. He tried to talk me into going to Sanctuary with him tonight.”

  She knew the place well, thanks to Janie. Lot’s of kinky stuff, and lots of hot guys and girls to choose from. If Dylan were everything the papers said about him, he’d have been there in a New York minute. “You didn’t want to go?”

  “No, I wanted to make a pie for you.”

  “Oh?”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I just…”

  He gestured to the can of cherries. “Can you open those for me, please?” She jumped from her chair, loving a guy with manners, and fished through her drawer until she found her can opener.

  “I have a friend who goes to Sanctuary. In fact, her boyfriend runs it, but it’s a bit over the top for me,” she said.

  He nudged her with his shoulder when she stepped beside him to open the can, and enough sexual energy to blow the lid wide open arced between them. “I didn’t think you were the kind of girl who’d like a club like that.”

  “Not even after last night?”

  He laughed. “No, not even after last night. And just for the record, it’s not my scene either.”

  “Good,” she said, then wished she could take it back. It shouldn’t matter to her whether he was into BDSM or not. What he did in his spare time was none of her business. Similar tastes were the building blocks to a relationship, but this wasn’t long term. This was one week of sex, with a little pie thrown in to keep it interesting.

  “So, this friend. Was she the one who
threw you the party?”

  “Yeah. Eden, Maria, and Janie. You met them all on the set today.”

  “They seem very nice.”

  A buzzing sound started, and her gaze darted to her purse on the counter near the stove. “They’re the best. I love them like they’re my sisters. We all set aside Thursday night to chat and play poker.”

  “You actually play poker?”

  “Sure.” She blew on her knuckles and rubbed them on her chest. “Despite my tells, I’m pretty darn good.”

  “Hmmm,” he said, grinning.

  “What?”

  “I’m just used to women tearing down other women. Like that somehow makes them feel better.”

  She took a sip of beer. “Then maybe you’ve been hanging out with the wrong women.”

  He gave a slow nod, his smile widening. “Maybe so.” He pointed to her purse. “You know your phone is ringing.”

  “Yeah.”

  He glanced at his watch. “Twenty minutes in. Right on time.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He laughed. “So that’s not the great date escape? A fake call app with some emergency that needs your attention?”

  She laughed along with him. “No. Haven’t had to use that in a while.”

  “No? Why not?”

  She pursed her lips. “Haven’t…I just haven’t needed it.” Wanting to get the conversation off her, and her pathetic love life, she said, “So now here you are, fulfilling all your childhood dreams. Are they everything you thought they’d be?”

  His face tightened, that sad, little lost boy look returning. “Sometimes I just get tired of the fake, you know?”

  A humorless laugh caught in her throat. “Yeah, I do. Not everyone is as they appear to be. I was engaged once, and learned that the hard way.”

  “What happened?”

  “We had a disagreement.”

  “You broke up over a disagreement?”

  “Yeah.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You see, he thought it was okay to sleep around, and I disagreed.” She shrugged. “I guess I should have expected it.”

  His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing,” she said quickly, not wanting to give away too much.

  “Well, I’m glad you found out, for two reasons.”

  “Oh?”

  “One, I’d hate to see you married to a cheating asshole, and two, I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of being here tonight and making you pie.”

  Warmth moved through her. He was either full of lines or was a really nice guy. She was leaning toward the latter. Then again, she’d been fooled before.

  He placed the dough in the pie pan, filled it with cherries, then put another layer of dough on top. He grabbed a knife, cut away the excess dough and marked V’s into the top.

  Impressed with his skills, she said, “You’re kind of like a professional.”

  He put the pie into the oven, set the timer, and washed his hands. When he turned back to her, he grinned and said, “I told you last night, I’m good at a lot of things.”

  At the mention of last night, she swiped her bottom lip. His gaze dropped to her mouth. “We have a bit of time to kill,” he said, his voice deeper than it was moments ago.

  She blinked playfully and said, “Any idea on what we should do?”

  Chapter Four

  “Yeah. Come on,” he said, and reached for her hand. “Show me around.”

  She stared at him for a moment. Her brow knitted together, those lush lips of hers slightly open. “You want to see my place?”

  “Sure.”

  “I just…thought you’d want…” The confusion backlighting her dark eyes shouldn’t have surprised him. Sure he’d asked for one week of sex. With that short a deadline, why wouldn’t she think he’d want to go straight to the bedroom? But he couldn’t help himself. She intrigued him and he wanted to get to know her better, wanted to see behind the curtain, so to speak.

  He tugged her to him and cupped her cheek. He dipped his head until his mouth was inches from hers. “Believe me, sweetheart, I want. I want so fucking much that I’ve been walking around with a goddamn hard-on all day.” With a nod of his head, he gestured toward the stove. “But I don’t want to get started and have to stop.” It was a half-truth. When he got her naked he didn’t want anything interrupting him, but he was also curious about her. Behind her on-screen persona and kinky bedroom antics, who was Angie Stanton?

  Her eyes widened. “Oh.”

  He slid his hands down her arms and captured her hands. He gave a little squeeze. “Now, how about a tour?”

  “Okay.” She kept hold of his right hand and started down the hall. “This is the bathroom,” she said as she by passed it. “On the left is my living room.”

  He let go of her hand and walked into the living room. It was spacious and homey, with big plush furnishing and warm colors. He made his way to her bookshelf and she followed behind.

  His gaze scanned all the bindings. “Wow,” he said.

  “What?”

  He ran his fingers over the spines and read the titles. “You like all the classics.”

  She nodded. “That surprises you?”

  He pulled out To Kill a Mockingbird. “Actually, yeah.”

  She put her hands on her hips and angled her head. “What did you expect to find?”

  He gave her a sheepish grin. “Honestly?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Cosmo or something lighter.”

  She laughed, and the sweet sound settled in his groin. “And here you accuse me of calling you cliché.” She tapped her head. “Just because I’m an actress who plays a diva doesn’t mean there isn’t more going on in here.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting that. I guess maybe we both started tonight out with preconceived notions.” He shook his head and laughed. “I’ve been in Hollywood too long. The women I know in the business are all about glitz, and getting ahead.”

  “Like I said, you’ve been hanging out with the wrong women.”

  Tonight he certainly wasn’t. His poker-playing angel was beauty and brains, a dangerous combination. She was different than what he’d expected, and no doubt good at anything she put her mind to. He liked it. He liked it a lot.

  “I believe you’re right.”

  She shrugged. “Truthfully, there is nothing wrong with Cosmo, and I’ve thumbed through the pages numerous time. But my tastes are varied.”

  He flipped through the pages of the novel, then slapped it on his hand. “This is one of my favorites.”

  “Me, too.” She took the book and turned it over to examine the back jacket. “It angers me when I think about the release of her new book. How could anyone do that to her? I wish I had been her lawyer, and her intellectual property was in my hands. I’d be sure to protect it, not exploit it.”

  He angled his head and let his gaze move over her face. He knew she was talking about the accounts that Harper Lee’s lawyer had found a novel in a safety deposit box and published it after the author’s death.

  “Have you read it?” he asked.

  “Not yet.”

  He couldn’t help but smile. His angel was like a breath of fresh air. He liked that she was intelligent and well read. He also liked that she had her own thoughts and opinions. Not once tonight had she pulled out her phone, or bashed her friends. He was used to style instead of substance, but she was anything but. His gaze settled on her mouth. He couldn’t wait to taste her sweetness again.

  They spent the next half hour or so talking about books, pulling them off the shelf to examine them. He liked that she was an avid reader and shared many of his tastes. As they discussed a few Stephen King books she also had, the scent of the baking pie reached his nostrils. It was almost done, but he’d yet to see her entire condo.

  “I think there’s one room left,” he said.

  She leaned forward and slid all the books back in place, and when he glimpsed the sweet curve of her ass, a groan ca
ught in his throat.

  She gave a little fluttery breath. “You want to see my bedroom?”

  He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “I want to see where my angel lays her head at night.”

  She walked ahead of him and opened her bedroom door. He looked in, taking in her big bed and the numerous throw pillows positioned near the headboard. The sight had his thoughts careening in an erotic direction: her on the bed, pillow under her ass, and him sliding between her legs. His cock hardened, begging him to let the damn pie burn and have his way with her sooner rather than later.

  “So that’s your bed,” he said, stating the obvious.

  Her body was close, close enough for him to feel the quiver that moved through her. “Yeah.”

  As his cock warred with the need to take her, he slid his hand around her waist. The kitchen timer went off, and he mumbled curses under his breath. “I just want you to know that you are the sexiest woman I know, and after pie”—he paused to finger the soft strap on her dress—“I plan on stripping this away, tossing you onto that mattress, and taking you. Hard.” Her eyes widened and her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. He gave her a light tap on the ass. “But don’t think I’ve forgotten about your birthday spankings.”

  She sucked in a breath, and he captured her hand as the timer continued to buzz. When they reached the kitchen he went for the oven and she went for the fridge.

  “Another beer?” she asked.

  “Sure.” He looked at the bank of drawers beside the stove. “Knife?”

  She grabbed him a knife and her pastry pie server and put them on the counter beside the oven. Then she leaned into him. “Want some help?”

  “Nope, just grab two plates and forks and sit at the island.”

  She pulled the plates from her cupboard, the forks from the utensil drawer, then refilled their beer. “That smells so good,” she said as she plunked herself down across from him at her oversize island.

  He stood over the stove, lifted one piece of pie, plated it, and slid it to her. She breathed in the delicious aroma as he served up another slice.