Bound (The Devil's Due Book 3)

by Eva Charles

  Smith

  By the time dinner is served on the piazza, I’ve had my fill of drinks with the boys. Although since Kate arrived, nothing more than take it up with your wife, and I fully intend on it has passed between JD and me.

  Kate seems more at ease now than she did in the kitchen. Of course, anyone could relax with Delilah at their side fending off trouble. Kate’s smiling at Chase, JD’s youngest brother, like she’s knocked back a couple drinks herself. Chase’s interests are limited to hacking, bad music, and the gym. He isn’t that amusing, although tonight he’s uncharacteristically animated.

  The guys who work for me have been paying Kate plenty of attention, too. Even the ones who know she’s a target. Bastards.

  They’re all here because Gabby invited them. I didn’t know JD’s mother. She was murdered long before we met. But everyone agrees she had a heart of gold, and there was no them and us in her home. Everyone who worked for the Wilders was family. Gabby has taken up her example.

  Gray hasn’t said a single word to Kate, but he hasn’t come to me bellyaching about her, either. That’s a surprise. Might be because he’s too busy eye-fucking Delilah, or maybe he’s enjoying her eye-fucking him. It’s quite a group assembled here.

  Kate tucks some hair behind an ear. It’s shiny and sleek tonight, without a single one of those waves my fingers itch to run through.

  I need to talk to her and make things right. I want to talk to her. I want to make things right. My behavior in the kitchen left a lot to be desired. If she was mad the other day, I’m sure she’s livid now, although the booze might have softened her. She won’t make a scene. The worst that happens is she tells me to go fuck myself. I’m a big boy, and she won’t be the first woman to say it.

  I catch her eye with a discrete wink as I approach the small circle. “Hey.”

  She flashes me an apprehensive smile before turning her attention back to Chase. After about thirty seconds of listening to him pretend he likes women, I take hold of her elbow and drag her away from his inane flirting. “Come sit with me.”

  She gazes into my face warily.

  “It’s my birthday—I want to have you all to myself for a few minutes.” That does little to ease her mind. She probably thinks I want to get her alone to dress her down.

  “I’m sorry—I spoiled your evening,” she says softly.

  My stomach twists into a guilty knot. “You did not spoil my evening. Let’s sit here.” I stop at the wicker swing. It’s at the edge of the party, where we can still be a part of it, but far enough away to talk privately.

  “I mean it,” she says. “I-I don’t know what I was thinking coming here. I’m so sorry.”

  I squeeze her fingers. My parents raised their daughters to be unapologetic. Or at least not to apologize any more than their son. Kate apologizes for everything, like her very existence is a gross offense. Her family didn’t do right by her. I don’t know the details. Don’t need to. There’s no other explanation for a woman like her, smart, beautiful, with a good heart, to always step up and take responsibility for things that are not her doing.

  “I’m happy you came,” I tell her. It’s the truth. Now that I’ve gotten past the initial shock, I am happy she’s here. “And I’m the one who should be apologizing. My behavior in the kitchen—that was just plain bad.” I gaze into her eyes. They’re less emerald and more bottle green today, and the deep copper specks in the center are missing. “I was surprised to see you.”

  “Shocked, you mean.”

  I chuckle. “Pretty much. I wasn’t sure I was ready to introduce you to this motley crew.”

  “Well, you weren’t quite as surprised as JD.”

  “I’m sure.” I shake my head. “Gabby probably should have told him beforehand. But she handles him better than anyone.”

  Kate smooths the wrinkles from her skirt, coaxing the fabric closer to her knees, so less leg is showing. I resist reaching over and hiking the material back up again.

  “JD is a good guy,” I tell her, “but often misguided. He has his own code he lives by. Gabby brings out his better angels. He was a miserable bastard without her.”

  “I’m glad I missed that.”

  It’s quiet between us. Awkward, to be honest, like we’re teenagers grappling with where to begin. It’s not us—we’ve gotten comfortable with each other—it’s the environment. The people, not the place. I’m not accustomed to feeling this way, and I hate it.

  “I brought you a gift,” she says finally, after a few more self-conscious minutes. “Is there a time set aside to open presents later, or is it okay to give it to you now?”

  “Hell, no. This isn’t a baby shower.” I tug on her hair. Mistake. Mistake. Mistake. My brain blasts the warning, as a shiver runs through Kate. But it’s too late. We both recognize it.

  “I want my present now.” It’s an attempt to recover, but it comes out sounding like the gift is her, and I’m demanding she spread her legs so I can lick her cunt.

  “I’ll—I’ll get it.”

  I watch her walk away, hypnotized by the swell of her hips and their gentle sway. My gaze skims her legs, all the way down to those shoes—laced up her ankle, that made me hard the second I laid eyes on them. I intend on being the one who unlaces each one, slipping them off her feet after I fuck her.

  I’m still thinking about the shoes when she returns with that big bag she lugs everywhere. “Open this one first.” She hands me a rectangular box, wrapped in matte navy paper with shiny red stripes.

  “There’s more than one?”

  “I guess it’s time for presents,” Gabby calls from the other side of the porch, before Kate can answer. “JD, get some champagne. I’ll get glasses.”

  “She’s going to be the death of me,” I mutter, standing up.

  “No, stay right there,” Gabby says, pointing to the swing. “That’s a good spot to do presents. We’ll come to you.”

  JD pours everyone champagne or whiskey, depending on their preference. Good whiskey. Not the brand he reserves for when it’s just me and him celebrating, but an excellent choice by anyone’s standards. Good enough to know I’m not in the doghouse forever.

  “Okay. We’re ready,” Gabby announces, sitting on the arm of her husband’s chair.

  I open Kate’s gift that I’ve been holding, trying not to trash the paper completely. When I lift the lid from the box, I laugh at the trio of hot sauces before gazing at her. Not a sound is coming from her, but she’s laughing too, eyes dancing, beaming like the sun. “Couldn’t get Beau to make you a fresh batch of corn nuts?”

  She’s still glowing, and I’m sure everyone’s waiting for me to let them in on the secret, but I’m not doing that. This belongs to us. “Where’s my other present?” I ask without a drop of shame.

  She pulls a cellophane bag, secured with a wide silver ribbon, from her tote. “It’s Irish soda bread. You can eat it as is, or toast it for breakfast. It was my mother’s recipe,” she adds, with a gentle pride, her eyes shimmering with a tenderness I’ve never seen. “I think you’ll like it.”

  I clasp her hand in mine, and lean in for a kiss, lingering too long on her lips—in front of my friends. I’m sure she’s acutely aware of all the eyes, too. When I pull away, a flush stains her cheeks.

  “Show’s over,” I tease, regarding the rapt audience. “You’ll need a paying ticket to see the rest.” Kate swats my arm, just as I catch Gabby’s sweet smile. But I don’t see JD anywhere on the porch. I’m sure he’s disappeared inside, pissed off and pouting. I swallow a wad of disappointment.

  His concerns about Kate are irrational, and I’m starting to lose patience with him. We’ve been friends for half our lives. There are brothers who don’t share the kind of bond we have. Don’t get me wrong, we’ve squabbled plenty, even raised our fists once or twice, but nothing has ever threatened the friendship. Not like this.

  I glance at Kate, her graceful fingers folding the discarded paper, the bread she baked sitting in her lap. She
swings her head to say something to Delilah, and her hair gets caught in the breeze, filling my nose with her sexy scent. I feel the pull in my groin.

  JD’s going to have to suck it up if he wants the friendship, because I have no intention of being the bigger man.

  I don’t know what kind of prodding it took, but JD shows up in time to make a heartfelt birthday toast when the cake is served, and shakes my hand when Kate and I say goodnight at the door. He even wishes her a very pleasant weekend, although that appeared to take more effort.

  “I don’t suppose you’ll be up for a morning run?” he asks drily, glancing sideways at Kate.

  “Not sure. But all that cake and booze—I should probably sweat some of it off. Can I text you later?”

  “On second thought, why don’t we skip tomorrow,” he says, gazing at his wife. “It’s going to be a long night here.”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake. He’s going to be all over Gabby’s case about Kate. But before I can say anything in her defense, she tips her head, and sends him a smoldering look. A look he returns in spades. Their plans for a long night don’t involve Kate. Whatever it is passes quietly between them.

  “Good night, and thank you,” I say, again, hustling Kate out the door. I don’t let go of her hand when we get outside, or as we make our way to the driveway. We chit chat about where her car’s parked, but that’s all I remember. My head is somewhere else.

  I can’t stop thinking about those last thirty seconds with Gabby and JD. I want that—not what they have, that’s their thing. I want my own thing. The kind where words aren’t needed to convey volumes. Maybe it’s the booze, or maybe I’m all hopped up on sugar, but I want it right now. And I want it with Kate. It’s all I can think about.

  When we get to the car, I pin her between my aching dick and the hood, my legs caging her like a predator. I have no intention of letting her go—not until I’ve satisfied us both. But that is not happening here. “Spend the weekend with me,” I demand, lowering my mouth to hers, roughly licking my way inside.

  “The weekend?” she gasps, when we come up for air.

  “A night is just enough to get our feet wet. Not enough to do any real exploring. I want more.” I sound like the greedy bastard that I am. But what the hell? It’s my birthday, and this is the only present I really want.

  She runs her fingers over my scruffy jaw, and it takes everything I have not to pop her on the Jeep, shove her panties aside, and take her right here. “It’s inevitable, Kate. I already told you. We both know it’s a bad idea, but I’m not sure there’s anything I’ve ever wanted more.”

  “It sounds so romantic. How can I possibly resist?” She’s doing that thing she does—a sassy comment to hide a shaky voice. Like she can fool me.

  I take her hand and put a small kiss on each fingertip. “I’m not much for romance. But I promise I’ll make it good for you, princess. So good.”

  “I don’t need romance,” she says, pulling me closer to her lips. But you should have it, I want to shout. You should insist on it. But I don’t say any of it, because I’m a selfish sonofabitch, and all I can think about is her wet pussy sliding onto my fat cock.

  25

  Smith

  I leave Kate’s car keys with Josh who’s at the guard house. “The car is parked near the garage at the main house. Drive it to Kate McKenna’s place at the end of your shift. I’ll let you know in a minute where to leave the keys.”

  Kate watches us out the Jeep window. I don’t want to leave her alone for too long creating a laundry list of reasons why she shouldn’t spend the weekend with me. I’m not prepared for her to change her mind, so I don’t waste any time making the call.

  “Good evening, The Blackberry Inn.”

  “This is Smith Sinclair calling from Sweetgrass.” I don’t normally use my connections to the Wilders, but this isn’t the kind of place you wander in off the street at midnight with a woman and expect a room. “I’d like to book a room for the weekend.”

  “This weekend?”

  “Yes.”

  “We have a small suite available on the top floor, and a more modest, but well-appointed room a floor below.”

  “The suite, please. A young woman will be joining me, without luggage. Can you arrange to have some toiletries sent to the room?”

  “Of course. I’ll have a basket of incidentals sent to the room within the hour. If it’s missing anything, just call down to the desk and I’ll take care of it.”

  After ending the call, I turn to Josh. “Leave the keys with the front desk at the Blackberry Inn under my name. And wipe the smirk off your face or you’ll be looking for another job before the sun rises.” Eavesdropping bastard.

  That was the easy part. Now to deal with the woman who is wringing her hands in the passenger seat. I climb into the Jeep, beside a fidgeting Kate. “Josh is going to drive your car home and he’ll leave the keys at the front desk.”

  “What front desk? There’s no—”

  “At the Blackberry Inn.”

  “Please explain.” There’s a twinge of don’t fuck with me in her voice. That’s a whole lot better than anxiety. At least I’m better at dealing with it.

  “I made a reservation at the Blackberry Inn.”

  “For the weekend?”

  I nod. “For the weekend.” She looks out the window, and the uneasiness is palpable. I snatch her hand off her lap and bring it to my mouth. “It’s a nice place. You’ll like it.”

  “I’ve never stayed there, but I’ve walked through the lobby. It’s beautiful.” Her head snaps toward me. “I don’t have anything with me. Not a toothbrush or a change of clothes. They’ll know we’re there for—sex. Like you picked me up at a bar, or I’m a hooker.”

  “Sex is their business. Everyone has sex in hotels. Do you really think the staff gives a damn about us? Besides, I did pick you up.” I squeeze her hand to reassure her I’m teasing. It’s ice cold, even on this warm evening. She’s nervous. After that comment about the hotel staff, it’s clear she hasn’t spent a lot of time with men in hotels. But I already knew that—I’m not exactly sure how much time she’s spent with men, period.

  “They have toothbrushes,” I add when it’s too quiet again. “And you won’t be needing clothes for anything I have planned.” I can almost hear her heart hammering. Thankfully the trip downtown is quick.

  When we get to the inn, I toss the valet my keys, and pull out a gym bag from the back of the Jeep. There’s a change of clothes in the bag, and more importantly, condoms and lube. I check in while Kate uses the ladies’ room.

  When she comes back into the lobby, she’s still wearing that timid smile, but I have a remedy for jitters. As soon as the elevator doors shut, I corner her in the small space and slide my hands into her hair, kissing her breathless, my body teasing hers, or maybe hers teasing mine. There’s been nothing but foreplay since I met her. Too damn much foreplay. I’m ten seconds away from taking her against the wall in this tiny box.

  The elevator pings, and we make it down the hall and into the room without my hands, once, leaving her body.

  The suite is actually one expansive room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. On one end there’s an alcove with some furniture and a fireplace, on the other, a king-size bed with the covers turned down for the night. I toss the room key onto a small table near the bed and put my bag on the floor.

  Kate examines the room from the sitting area, holding the back of a small sofa like she needs it for support. She seems lost again, but before I can deal with it, the bell rings. Her eyes dart suspiciously from the door to mine. “It’s probably just the things I asked them to bring up,” I assure her, opening the door.

  “Good evening.” The bellman wheels in a cart and takes a basket of toiletries into the bathroom. Then he sets out a bottle of Port and tea service with delicate cookies on a round table near the window. Kate and I don’t say a word to each other while he’s in the room. I half expect her to run out the door any seco
nd.

  “Is there anything else you need?” the bellman asks.

  “Kate?”

  “No, thank you. This is lovely,” she says, smiling. It’s one of those fake smiles she paints on when she’s anxious. I hand him some bills and he leaves quietly.

  As soon as the door clicks, I sit on the edge of the bed. The sooner I give her something to do, the sooner she’ll relax.

  “Take off your clothes, Kate,” I tell her, toeing off my shoes. “But leave on those sexy-as-fuck sandals.”

  She hugs her body tightly. “We’ve already played that game.”

  “Last time you played under duress. This time I want you to take them off willingly.”

  “And this time, you’re going to take your clothes off?” she asks so softly, I can barely make out the words.

  “Count on it.”

  She’s motionless, feet glued to the floor, with her arms still wound around her body. “I’m waiting,” I say, in a gruff impatient voice. It’s meant to let her know that she doesn’t need to worry about anything, that I’m in charge. But she doesn’t understand that signal.

  She lifts her chin. Her green eyes flaring in the dim light as she shimmies out of the little dress that’s been swishing around her thighs all night. I dig my fingers into the mattress to keep me back. No smiley face underpants today. She’s wearing a thong and a lace bra that are very grown-up. My eyes flit between the tiny scraps of purple fabric and her creamy skin. “Kate.” I can’t force myself to stay seated.

  With a few long strides, I’m behind her, my hands on her upper arms. “Let me help you,” I murmur above her ear, pushing her hair aside, to unclasp the delicate bra. I slip it off her shoulders and toss it on her dress, adding my shirt to the growing pile.

  “Turn around. Let me see you.” My voice is rough and low, emerging from the ache in my chest. She’s beautiful, and I want her. Truth is, I’ve wanted her for a long time.

  She swivels slowly. Her apprehension fills the space around us, making the air heavy.