At some point, he told his brother about it—the stupid jerk. Oh, there was some guilt there. She was pissed off at the husband she’d adored—mad at him for sharing something so private. Yeah, there was some guilt.
So Kent comes home from Iraq and he’s messed up from the war, messed up from losing his brother and I don’t know, but somehow, he decides what he needs to do is step into his brother’s shoes—except I didn’t want him to! When I told him no, I meant it, but he wouldn’t stop it!
Tania laughed again, but it felt and sounded more like a sob. She stumbled, caught herself on the counter. Leaning forward, she slammed her head into the oak cabinet in front of her, welcomed the pain. Abruptly, she swung out, punched it with her closed fist. It hurt—gloriously. More pain—
She hit it again, again, again.
It wasn’t until she saw the bright red splatter that she realized she was bleeding.
Shaken, she stared at the back of her hand. Swollen and bloody, the knuckles torn, and now that she was aware of it, it hurt. A lot.
“Aw, shit,” she muttered.
That was it.
Things were going to change, damn it.
She was taking her life back.
Taking her memories…taking herself back.
Although he couldn’t say he minded, Drake wasn’t exactly planning on seeing Tania here today.
Not that he minded. No, Drake always considered his days better for seeing her. He hadn’t ever let her know that—her or anybody else.
Especially not Kyle. He figured it couldn’t ever be a good idea to let your best friend know you had a thing for his wife.
The poor bastard. Drake wished he was still here—their lives would have been so much easier, so much better if the man hadn’t died. Tania’s for certain. Even Drake’s, not that it had ever sat well with him for him to be dreaming over Tania—which he had done for years.
Hell, he still dreamed about her. Still longed for her, still wanted her.
Still had the same damn reaction, a very visceral, very basic reaction when he saw Tania Sinclair. A very immediate one. One that had been the same for going on five years now—he got hard as a damn pike.
Seeing her saunter into his garage on that cold January day made him ache even as it made him smile. Even as it made him grieve. Even as he searched her face for signs of a sleepless night, for signs of misery, for signs of restlessness.
He couldn’t see her without thinking about Kyle, and he couldn’t think about her without remembering a day when he’d seen far more of that woman than a guy should ever see of his best friend’s wife.
Now his widow.
He shoved up off the ground and grinned at her. “Hey, beautiful. How are you?”
“I’m good, Drake. And you?” The solemn smile she gave him didn’t quite reach her eyes.
He shrugged. “Can’t complain, I guess.” He studied her dark brown eyes, hating the shadows he saw there. “Have to say, my day is always better for seeing you. Did you sleep okay?”
“Well enough, considering.” She shrugged.
He knew she wasn’t talking about the margaritas. Nodding, he said, “That’s good.”
She gave him a tight smile and glanced away. “Ah, well. I was wondering. Maybe you could come over for dinner. A way to say thanks.”
“You don’t need to thank me, Tania,” he said gruffly.
“I know.” Nibbling on her lip, she paused, then added, “Actually, I just…well. I like spending time with you, talking with you.”
If she’d popped him in the nose, he didn’t think he would have been any more surprised. Was she asking him on a date? Then he wanted to kick himself—she wouldn’t be asking him on a date. Hell, even if she was attracted to him, and he wasn’t exactly expecting that, but even if she was, she wouldn’t be doing it today.
But he couldn’t say no to Tania.
“Sure,” he said, feigning a casualness he didn’t quite feel. “When were you planning?”
“Tonight?” She blurted it out like she had to make herself say it, and the stress he saw in her eyes was like a fist around his heart. “I mean, if you don’t have plans? I know it’s Friday, but…”
“Nah. No plans. Just tell me what time.”
“Seven. Nothing fancy.” She gave him another solemn smile. And then, to his surprise, she moved closer and pressed her lips to his cheek.
He wanted, more than anything, to turn his head and capture her mouth with his.
But he held still, gave her another friendly, easy smile.
One he held until she was out of his garage. It wasn’t until he saw her drive off that he let himself collapse back against the car behind him.
“Fuck,” he muttered, wincing as he pressed his hand against the swollen ridge of his cock. He hoped the coveralls he wore had camouflaged it. The last thing that woman needed was to know he had to fight the urge to mentally undress her every time he saw her.
After what that bastard Kent had done to her, she probably couldn’t stand the thought of sex anymore.
One more thing the monster should rot in hell for—he had a whole list of sins, Drake knew, but what he’d done to Tania…
He shoved off the car, started to pace. Absently, he reached up, rubbing the back of his neck. Almost everybody who’d known Kent had been in shock after his death—after what he’d done, after Tania had shot him in self-defense— but Drake hadn’t. They didn’t want to believe what they heard, despite how battered she’d been.
Drake hadn’t had any trouble believing it. He knew too many things about Kent. Fuck, if he’d known that bastard had a thing for her, he would have been camping out on her doorstep, watching over her.
And not just because she’d been Kyle’s wife, not just because she was his best friend’s widow and he owed Kyle that.
Not just because he’d been obsessing over her ever since that day five years ago, not even just because he’d been in love with her for longer than that.
Although that day—that day five years ago…
She acted like she’d forgotten. He wondered if she had.
Five years ago
The last thing Drake had expected to hear when he used his key to let himself into their house was that low, husky voice, Tania’s voice, all but shouting.
All but begging.
“Please don’t. I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t hurt me again…”
Drake heard Tania’s voice, raw and rough, and he tore up the steps, snarling in silence.
Somebody was getting ready to die—
He made himself stop at the top of the steps, moving quietly, his heart racing as he heard her pleading, then the unmistakable sound of a hand striking flesh.
Hands curling into fists, he came to a corner in the hallway, peered around the side. And froze, unable to move—that was so not what he’d expected to see.
Shit…
The blood drained from his brain, straight down to his dick, as his heart threatened to thunder out of his chest—
Drake knew, very well, the difference between something real and something forced, between a fantasy and reality. More than once, he and his lovers had walked such lines, but it wasn’t anything he’d been prepared to see here.
Tania Sinclair was kneeling on her bedroom floor, her skirt rucked up over her ass, her hands bound together at the small of her back. And her husband, Kyle—Drake’s best friend—was fucking her. While Drake stared, Kyle spanked her tight, perfect ass and she cried out, a look of nearly violent pleasure on her face.
Fuck—
He made a sound. He didn’t know what, but he made some noise and Kyle stilled, looked up. Then, one hand resting soothingly on Tania’s hip, he pulled away and stood.
Tania whimpered, awkwardly twisting around to look back, and that was when she saw Drake. Her eyes widened and she blushed bright red.
“Oh, shit!” she blurted out.
Kyle dragged his jeans up, shifting to block his wife from Drake’s sight.
“This isn’t what it looks like.”
“It looks like you’ve restrained your wife, like you’re spanking your wife,” Drake said, his voice rough. Hell. He could still see the imprint of Kyle’s hand on that perfect ass. And he wanted to trace it with his lips—then do the same.
“Okay, that was what it looked like.” Kyle swore and glanced back, turned around.
Tania was standing now and Drake caught a glimpse of her sleek hips, the bare mound of her sex as Kyle smoothed her close-fitting skirt down, adjusted the white blouse she was wearing, covering her.
She turned around, presenting Kyle with her wrists, and Drake watched as Kyle pulled a pocketknife out and sliced through the duct tape.
He dipped his head and whispered to her and she glanced at Drake, then at Kyle, a faint smile on her lips. She shrugged, murmured back.
Kyle stroked his hands up and down her arms, then looked at Drake. “Look, we like to mess around when we’re having sex sometimes. I don’t hurt her.”
Tania slid an arm around Kyle’s waist and smiled at Drake. “At least not any more than I want him to.”
“Damn it, Tania,” Kyle growled.
Drake looked at her, then at Kyle—that hot, slippery ball of envy growing hotter, tighter, taking up just a little more room inside his heart. Setting his jaw, he looked back at Tania. “You’re sure you’re not hurt.”
She cocked a brow at him. “Do I look hurt? Or even upset? A little embarrassed maybe, but trust me, Drake… I’m fine.” Abruptly, she rose up on her toes and whispered in Kyle’s ear.
Kyle gave her a pained look and then laughed. “You’re a brat, baby.” Then he looked at Drake. “She says you interrupted her game, but if you want to stay and watch, you can. She’s always daydreamed about having somebody watch her.” He gave his wife a narrow look and muttered, “Tania, you’re such a tramp.”
She grinned at him. “You love it.”
“Yeah.” He groaned and tugged her head back, kissed her hard and fast before he looked back at Drake. “You can see for yourself I’m not hurting her, if it will make you feel better. I’m supposed to finish it, though.”
Drake just stared at him.
Game—
Stay and watch—
He squeezed his eyes closed. Turn around. Walk away.
That was what he needed to do.
But when he opened his eyes, he saw that Kyle had his hand fisted in Tania’s hair, her head cranked back for a harsh, rough kiss. With his other hand, he shoved her skirt up. She jerked back, glared at him.
He laughed.
Drake shifted his eyes from Tania to Kyle—that laugh didn’t quite sound like Kyle. Too mean, too cold. But Tania’s eyes were bright, hungry—the desire he saw on her face was unmistakable. Fuck.
“Stop it,” she said.
“No. You want it—I can tell.”
“Bastard.” She grabbed the hand he’d pushed between her legs. But instead of pushing him away, she rocked against it. Moaned. Her gaze slid his way and then back to Kyle’s.
“You’re soaking wet, baby. Now tell me you don’t want this…”
Drake scrubbed a hand over his face. He had to get out of here. Turning on his heel, he started down the hall.
Just before he would have been around the corner, out of sight, away from temptation and the woman he couldn’t have, he looked back, though.
Kyle had her on the floor, her wrists pinned over her head. Drake groaned as he watched Kyle push inside her, groaned as Kyle paused and looked down at her. “You go ahead and fight it. You sure as hell are wet for me. You still want me to stop?”
“Yes,” she whimpered.
He watched as she jerked against Kyle’s hands.
Kyle smiled down at her. Whispered, “Beg me, bitch.”
“Stop…please, Kyle, don’t do this…”
Kyle surged against her, hard. Fast.
Drake’s cock jerked. He pressed his hand to the wall, his fist clenched, watched as Tania jerked against Kyle, listened as she whimpered.
“Stop, please…” Her head thrashed, her legs came up and wrapped around Kyle’s waist.
Abruptly Kyle let go of her hands, caught her face. “Fuck, I love you,” he muttered.
She cried out, her body arching, shuddering.
Watching her climax was one of the most erotic and beautiful sights he’d ever seen.
Drake left before it ended.
Drake came back to himself, his cock as hard now as it had been then, and his heart every bit as hollow.
Kyle had waited two days and then shown up at the garage. In his typical blunt fashion, he had said, “You know I wouldn’t ever hurt my wife.”
Drake had just nodded. “I know. If I’d known what was going on, I would have left. I didn’t think anybody was there—I was leaving something on the counter, didn’t see either of your cars in the driveway, let myself in. I just heard Tania and I thought…”
Kyle had known. No other explanations had been needed.
Tania had mentioned that day to him only once, a few months later. Ever since then, for as much as it was mentioned, it was like the day hadn’t even happened.
It would have been easier if it hadn’t happened. Especially for Drake. Loving her, not having her, was hard enough. Knowing she played games that not everybody liked to play, games that played too close to the kind he was into…
He swore, shoved a hand through his hair. Just seeing her did this to him—tangled him into knots of love and lust until he couldn’t see straight, couldn’t think straight. He’d always been attracted to her, had started falling in love with her back when she and Kyle had just been dating.
But then he’d seen that and it had been like a fever in his blood.
Never a good idea to fall in love with a woman he couldn’t have, and for the past five years, no other woman would really do it for him. He wanted her, only her, and all of her.
But he was just her husband’s friend.
One she’d invited over for dinner tonight. Probably so she wouldn’t be alone.
“Hell.”
Jerking down the zipper of his coveralls, he headed for the shower at the back of his garage. With his dick pounding and his skin feeling two sizes too small, if he tried to work on anything right now, he’d just screw it up.
He’d be in better shape if he jerked off now. Maybe it would make it a little easier when he saw Tania in a few hours.
Chapter Three
“I want to ask you for a favor,” she said, staring at him over her wineglass.
Drake told himself he could get through this—he told himself he wasn’t about to lose it, thinking about how sexy and sweet she looked in a short, flippy little tan skirt that left too much leg bare. He told himself he wasn’t all but drooling as he thought about the breasts under her close-fitting, clingy black top.
He also told himself the dinner had been delicious, but he couldn’t remember what it tasted like or what he’d even eaten twenty minutes ago. Some kind of chicken. He thought. Or maybe pork. Right?
No, he was too focused on Tania, and the fact that she was sitting three feet away from him. Too focused on the fact that his cock was throbbing like a bad tooth and had been ever since she’d let him into her house an hour earlier.
Her words rang in his mind. She needed help—finally, though, something real, something physical he could focus on. That would really help. Maybe her car needed a tune-up, that was easy, although why she’d felt the need to cook for him just to ask for that, he didn’t know.
“Anything.” He tipped his beer bottle back, wetting his throat. Fuck it, she looked so beautiful. She was sitting so close, he could smell the scent of the lotion she’d slicked all over her skin. Good enough to eat, and that was just what he wanted to do, too.
She grimaced and said, “Maybe you should put the beer down. Stop drinking for a minute, because I don’t want you to choke when I ask.”
“Okay.” He smirked a little and leaned forward, s
etting the bottle on the table. “Although I don’t know what you could ask that would surprise me that much, Tania.”
“Five years ago.”
Okay—maybe I was wrong. She can surprise me.
Drake grabbed the bottle. “I think I need the beer,” he muttered.
She smiled. “Five years ago,” she said again. “You know what I like.”
He shifted his gaze to her, all too aware of just how little distance separated them, all too aware of that short, flippy skirt, of the sweet scent of her skin…and just how acutely he remembered things from five years ago.
You…on your knees.
You…restrained and begging.
You…looking at me with that challenge in your eyes, all but daring me to watch while Kyle fucked you, while you pretended to fight—
“Do you remember?” she asked, her voice low and quiet.
“Yes.” How could he forget that?
“Something about the way you watched us made me think… Well, you weren’t turned off by it, were you?”
“I saw a beautiful woman having sex—was I supposed to get turned off?”
Tania tilted her head to the side. “That’s a roundabout non-answer. Okay. Let’s try this. Yes or no—does that kind of thing appeal to you?”
“Fuck, yes.”
“And what if it involved me?” Her lashes drooped low over her eyes and she stared at him, her gaze heavy, intent.
Oh, hell. “You’re a beautiful—”
“Yes or no, Drake.”
Because he needed the time to stall, and because his throat was now dry as the Sahara, he took another drink. Then he set the bottle back on the table. He didn’t know for certain where she was going with this, but he was getting a clue now.
The new question was now—what was he going to do? Be her experimental foray back into sex and get his heart ripped out? Or walk away?
He slid off the couch and shifted so that he was facing her, kneeling in front of her. Staring into her eyes, he put his hands on her knees, watching her face.
Bound Temptations: Stories of Temptation and Submission Page 12
