Complete Me (Bound to You Book 3)

by Jane Henry

  And his workshop. As long as she lived, she would never forget the sight of Paolo, covered in sawdust, his t-shirt clinging to his damp body, leaning over the saw or lathe. His tools were almost an extension of who he was, a part of his very body, and though he worked with his hands now making the gorgeous cabinets he crafted with skill, it simply wasn’t the same. She’d never forget the way he’d stand, his strong hands running sandpaper over roughly hewn edges, brushing bits of dust and wood chips away, or standing and stretching after a long day’s work, the muscles in his arms flexing, rippling as he reached his arms over his head and clasped his hands, lengthening his work-worn body.

  “I am nervous,” she said as she pulled their car to a stop. She inhaled, then exhaled, slowly and deliberately. “This has the potential of changing our lives.”

  His larger hand lay atop her smaller one, and it was more than a comforting move. It was a firm move meant to stop her, and to grab her attention. She swallowed, as she felt his physical reminder to behave, realizing just how tense she’d become.

  “Do not think of it that way,” he ordered. She looked to him, and he was staring at her with the piercing look that made her heart thump fast.

  She nodded mutely.

  “Yes, the other day I stood. But you know what they said at the six-month follow-up. It was at that stage that we would know if I would walk again. And yes, there are no time lines on these kinds of injuries, no expiration dates, and miracles happen.” He paused, and his voice dropped, thick with emotion. “You know miracles happen, baby. You came back to me.”

  A lump rose in her throat at his husky voice, the look in his eyes at once reminding her of the depth of his love for her. She’d pulled back away from him once, when she was hurt and nursing her wounds, and he’d withdrawn into his own world of sadness. But now, reunited, she was more determined than ever to stay by his side no matter what the days ahead would bring them.

  “And you came back to me,” she whispered, as the pads of his thumbs traced soothing circles in the palms of her hands held in his.

  “That was the miracle here, baby,” Paolo said, and as he spoke the lump in her throat dissolved as she was reminded why she fell in love with him from the very beginning.

  He was handsome and kind, hardworking, and her very best friend. But what she loved about him most was his simple approach to life. Work hard. Play hard. And love deeply.

  “I don’t regret that accident for a minute,” he whispered, continuing to massage her palms. “Of course I miss walking. I wish I could chase you down and flip you over my shoulder like I used to when we were young. Remember that, baby?”

  How could she forget? She loved feeling light as a feather as he’d tossed her around. She loved being manhandled by her lover.

  “I miss the freedom I had, my independence. But this all happened for a reason, baby,” he continued. “And if I hadn’t been injured—if we hadn’t been pushed apart by all of this—would I have had the chance to put you in your place the way I do now?”

  She giggled even as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  “Look how things turned out,” he continued, smiling. “I was humbled, and brought to my knees in all of this. But you came back to me. And now we have each other, and you give me your submission every day. You give me yourself. It’s not about me lording my power over you, but the way you relinquish the most secret parts of who you are to me.” He paused, clearing his throat before he continued. “I don’t like asking what if. But I do like looking at what happened as a gift.”

  A gift? How could he call the tragic accident and loss of his mobility a gift?

  “It brought us to where we are today,” he said. “And I don’t regret that for a minute.” His voice hardened and the grasp of her hand tightened. “Not for a minute. Do you understand me?”

  Tears flowed freely now, and she pulled one hand away from his as she swiped at her cheeks.

  “Now let’s go in there,” he said. “I am fully prepared to leave today’s appointment with the knowledge that nothing has really changed. And we’ll leave here every bit as happy as we did before we came. Got it?”

  She nodded, as he released her hands and unbuckled his seat belt. “And if you behave yourself, I’ll get you that ridiculous “Death by Chocolate” ice cream cone you like down the street.” She giggled, wiping her eyes. “And if you don’t behave, I’ll whip your ass. Deal?”

  She groaned. “Deal. I love you, you impossible bossy man.”

  He snagged her fingers and kissed them to his lips. “And I love you, too, you adorable little brat.”

  She shook her head as she opened the driver’s side door and went to fetch his chair, still feeling nervous with anticipation, but lighter than she had in days.

  ***

  “What do you mean, things might not change?” Meredith asked. “You don’t know Paolo. You don’t know how hard he’s willing to work or how much he’s willing to put into this.”

  Meredith sat on the chair in the small area of the doctor’s office, perched on the edge as if she were ready to burst from her skin and leap to her feet at any moment, balanced on the balls of her feet and her hands palm-down on her knees. Her eyes flashed and her cheeks were red. The physical therapist leaned against the wall, crossing one ankle over the other, hands clasped in front of him. He was young, his face unwrinkled and clean-shaven, and Meredith frowned as she faced him.

  “You look barely old enough to be my son,” she said. “And just like that!” She snapped her fingers. “You just casually announce the state of my husband’s condition as if you were announcing that too bad, so sad, you’re all out of red grapes at the supermarket?”

  “Meredith,” Paolo warned, his hand on her knee, squeezing in a gesture that was more than reassuring. But she plowed on, continuing as if Paolo hadn’t spoken.

  “And that’s it? Nothing else? Just bam over and done with?”

  “I really don’t mean to cause you any more distress,” the therapist explained, shaking his head. “But I don’t see any need in giving you any false hope, either.”

  “Hope?” Meredith said, rising to her feet. “I’m not talking about hope,” she said. “I’m talking hard work and dedication and the possibilities that lie ahead. Quite frankly, I’m hard pressed to take your proclamation as gospel from someone who looks barely old enough to tie his shoelaces, much less predict the future outcome of my husband’s quality of life!”

  “Meredith!” Paolo’s voice was no longer warning, but angry now, and the tone caught her attention immediately. She jumped and blinked, as if she just remembered he was there. He glared at her, his eyes narrowed slits, and his arms were crossed across his chest. Damn it. She knew she was in trouble now. Her heart sank as a lump rose in her throat and she looked down at her hands.

  “That’s enough,” he ordered in a low voice. She nodded and swallowed.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

  The therapist pushed himself off the wall and sighed, as he went over to the chair in front of a small desk in the room, and sat down. He ran a hand over his face and through his short brown hair.

  “I’m sorry, too,” he said. “Your reaction is a good reminder to me that I should use more care when I share a diagnosis such as this. The simple fact remains that nothing has changed in Paolo’s physical ability. Occasionally, with partial spinal cord injuries, we see moments of physical mobility that are extraordinary. And certainly, the possibility remains that he may walk again. But it’s far more likely that what happened earlier this week was merely fleeting, and even despite his dedication, hard work, and regular therapy, Paolo will still rely on his wheelchair for stability.”

  Paolo nodded, and Meredith, chastened, did as well.

  “Thank you,” Paolo said. “Honestly, it was no more than I expected. But it’s been challenging for my wife and she is hopeful.”

  “I understand.”

  As they discussed
the next appointment, Meredith’s thoughts plagued her. Paolo had warned her. He’d told her to expect that things really hadn’t changed, but she hadn’t listened. Despite his warnings, she’d still convinced herself that the possibility of things changing for Paolo was more than a remote chance. She also knew she Paolo was not impressed with her outburst, and she very well could face not only disappointing news but a sore backside when they were through. She sat in the chair, silently, nodding as Paolo finished speaking with his therapist.

  They made their way to the parking lot in silence. She thought it best to wait until he spoke first, and he said nothing as he led her to the car. He pushed the handicapped button on the door, and as it automatically swung open, he gestured for her to go first. She sighed. Ever the gentleman.

  When they got to their car, she quietly took his wheelchair to the back, folded it, and slid it in, walking to her driver’s side door while dragging her feet. She did not want to listen to the inevitable lecture that would follow, much less hear the disappointment she’d hear in his voice. But he did not lecture, or scold.

  Meredith sat in the driver’s seat, and started the car, but left it in park as she waited for him to speak first. It seemed the right thing to do. And when he began to speak, his voice was unexpectedly gentle.

  “I know this has been hard for you,” he began, and his gentle tone caused her eyes to moisten, as she nodded and listened. “And you know you were out of line in there.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir,” she said, truly repentant now. He merely nodded.

  “I’m not going to spank you for this,” he said, and even as her emotions churned, she felt humbled at the knowledge that he could and would spank her if he did find it necessary. Paolo continued.

  “If you’d kept charging on after I asked you to stop, I would have spanked you when we got home. You know that, don’t you?”

  She nodded. Hell yeah, she knew it. “Yes, sir.”

  “And you should’ve stopped when I said your name, but I understand that your emotions were running high and you were upset. But baby, you know I’m not upset. Not even a little bit. Don’t you?”

  She didn’t understand it, but she nodded.

  “I think so,” she whispered.

  He sighed. “I need a few minutes,” he said. “Why don’t you go and get us an ice cream cone, and we’ll both relax in the park.”

  “Oooohh,” she said. “You’re not going to spank me and I’m getting an ice cream cone? Are you softening in your old age?”

  “Watch it, girl,” he growled.

  She barely stifled a giggle as she pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the ice cream parlor. Ten minutes later, they sat at a park bench, and she happily licked her cone.

  “They should call this Better than Sex ice cream,” she muttered. She stood next to the picnic table at the park where he’d had her go to after the appointment. The path was paved, and he could easily roll his chair up to the picnic tables. It also overlooked the harbor, and afforded them the perfect view of the sunset.

  “You want little kids going up to the window and ordering ‘Better than Sex’ ice cream?” Paolo asked with a raise of his brow.

  “This is not the type of ice cream suitable for little kids,” Meredith explained. “This is for moms who’ve had long days. Or wives who’ve just been on an emotional roller coaster in a doctor’s office.”

  He chuckled and shook his head.

  “It was almost ice cream not suitable for you,” he said, grabbing her free hand and pulling her down onto his lap on the bench.

  She grimaced. “Uh, yeah. About that…”

  He shook his head and gave her a teasing swat.

  “You’re a little spitfire, you know that?” he asked, his voice taking on a stern edge.

  She took another lick of her ice cream and swallowed. “Um. Sure,” she said, clearly nervous about the way the conversation was going. He landed another teasing swat on her bottom as she perched on his knee and she squealed.

  She ate her ice cream with renewed vigor, as if she were afraid he’d change his mind and take it away.

  He took a handful of her hair and pulled her head back. Her breath hitched as he took her mouth in his, his mouth still cold and sweet from the ice cream, his whiskers prickling her. She was reminded of his strength and control, and she loved it.

  “My little spitfire,” he murmured. “Should have her ass spanked, but gets an ice cream instead. I think you’ll have to make this up to me.”

  “Happily,” she breathed. “I am sorry for how I behaved.”

  “You ought to be,” he murmured, pulling her head back and a sharp tingle of pain traveled the length of her spine. “But that won’t happen again, will it, baby?”

  She shook her head and swallowed. “No, sir.”

  He released her and gave her another swat.

  “Good girl. Now finish your damn ice cream before it melts all over my clothes.”

  She eagerly lapped it up, and he chuckled. “I want to see you put that tongue to other uses tonight.”

  She took another bite of ice cream, marveling at his remarkable ability to turn all things into something dirty.

  ***

  Paolo removed the soft cotton belt from Meredith’s robe and glanced over at her by the bed. She lay obediently exactly as he’d instructed her—stripped naked, on her knees, her face to the side and eyes closed tightly, arms stretched out in front of her.

  God, she was hot.

  He grew hard as he pulled the belt from the loops. It was a soft, flat belt that would work very well for his purposes. He removed the black leather flogger from her drawer, and placed it in his lap. The scent of the spiced vanilla candle she’d lit earlier wafted in the air, as he flicked the flogger against his hand. It was a soft, sensual flogger that would stripe her gently but tickled more than it stung. However, he’d purchased one with a handle that doubled as a crop, and a few swats with the handle would take her breath away.

  Paolo had researched, and knew now from personal experience that varying the type of spanking she received when they were playing would heighten her experience.

  He removed a soft, light blue scarf from her drawer and shut it.

  “Got all your toys lined up, sir?” Meredith called from the bed.

  “Be quiet, young lady,” he ordered sternly, and though she shifted and squirmed, she obeyed him.

  They’d had a few emotional days, and he well knew taking charge in bed was something they both needed.

  “Keeping your eyes closed, lie on your back now,” he murmured gently, “But come over to the edge of the bed.” She obeyed, pushing herself to a sitting position, then lying flat on her back, her eyes closed the whole time, with her side flush against the side of the bed and her feet at the very end, so he could reach her easily while still in his wheelchair. First, he draped the scarf over her eyes and she gasped.

  “It’s just a scarf, baby,” he whispered. “Relax. Take a deep breath and then let it out again.” She obeyed, inhaling then exhaling, as he gently tied it in a knot behind her head. “Now, scoot all the way down to the edge of the bed. I want your feet at the very end.” She obeyed, and he could see the rise and fall of her chest as she moved. Good. He wanted her aroused and ready for him, and the slight deprivation of her senses would help prepare her. “Arms up over your head,” he murmured. She obeyed, and he lightly fastened the thin cotton belt from her robe around her wrists.

  “Very good, baby,” he murmured. He placed one hand on her inner thigh and she jumped.

  “No need to be afraid, honey,” he soothed. “Just trust me. Just relax and feel now.”

  He smoothed the palms of his hands over her thighs and she inhaled and exhaled. He leaned down and kissed her just above her knee. She giggled.

  “That tickles,” she whispered.

  He flicked his tongue out and licked her thigh. “Does that tickle?” he asked in a low growl.

  She swallowed and her hips squir
med. “No, sir,” she whispered.

  Without warning, he dropped his mouth to her thigh and sucked hard, as one hand reached for her breast and squeezed her nipple. Her hips lunged up from the bed, but he continued to tease her breasts as he sucked the sensitive skin of her legs. Over and over he ran his tongue over her skin and she moaned as his hands flicked her nipples.

  “Please,” she begged. He knew what she wanted, but he wanted her fully primed when he took her.

  “Flip over on your side and get back on your knees, chest down,” he instructed. She rolled over, her arms still restrained, as she moved to obey him. He moved to the side so he had room to reach her, lifted the flogger and flicked it. She gasped but stayed in position. He striped her with the folds of leather, some swats harder than others, as he intentionally intermingled varying degrees of strokes. She moaned as she rocked her hips from side to side. He flipped the flogger over and delivered a sharp swat with the handle. She gasped but stayed in position. He trailed a finger over the bright red mark the handle left. It was slightly raised, not quite a welt, but a clear indication that he’d met his mark. He continued to flog her, one stroke after another, alternating with occasional flicks of the handle. In between swats, he thrust his hand between her legs until she was panting, and so ready for him he knew she would come at the slightest touch. He dropped the flogger and reached for her hips, bringing her warm backside close to his mouth as he leaned down and kissed her heated bottom.

  “Beautiful girl,” he murmured. “Takes her spanking and keeps position. Loves her man and lets him have his way with her.” He kissed her again, and he heard her sigh. “Do you know how sexy that is, Bonita?” he whispered.

  “No, sir,” she responded. “But if it’s even half as sexy for you as it is for me—having you do these things to me—well, that pleases me, sir.”