TangledBound (6 page)

“Dinner will wait.” Consciously controlling his urge to
touch her and force her gaze to his, Sam moved to stand in front of her. She
didn’t look up, but she didn’t turn her head either. Thin victory, bitter to
swallow, but what choice did he have, given the limits he’d placed on their
relationship?

Marshaling his thoughts—and his willpower—he did what he
would’ve made her do if the situation were different. He talked. “I understand
you’re hurt. I realize my failure to remain consistent is the reason you’re
hurt, and I apologize. I’m attracted to you. I
want
you. I want you
under me, submitting to me, and begging me to fulfill you. I also want you
turning to me for comfort when you’re upset, looking to me for guidance when
you’re lost and relying upon me for strength when you’re weak.
Wanting
you isn’t the problem. Trusting you is.”

She jerked her head up, shock in her eyes. “You don’t
trust
me?
Me
? What does you trusting me have to do with anything? I’m the one
offering to let you do…do…”

With a vague, all-encompassing gesture of her hands, she
said, “Everything. Anything.
I
trust
you
.”

“Christ. I could shake you.” As his carefully won willpower
weakened, he lowered his voice in an effort to control his hands. “Melanie,
listen to me.
Listen
. When two people enter into a power-exchange
relationship, there’s an exchange. I don’t trust you. You’re young and your
interest in submission is new. How many times have you become passionate about
something new, only to lose interest once the newness wore off or a challenge
came along? I’m not going to be an impulse fuck, nor am I going to be the next
thing you drop when you figure out BDSM relationships are harder to manage than
you expected.”

The color faded from her cheeks. “I guess you’d know about
impulse fucks, wouldn’t you?”

Sam swore and closed his eyes. “Melanie—”

“It’s all right,” she interrupted. “I get it. You’re afraid
of being used once and dropped when I’m finished with you. Why didn’t you just
say so in the first place? I can deal with a man who’s afraid of me. Whatever.
Moving on. Who are we meeting for dinner?”

He blew out a loud breath and tried to exorcise his
overwhelming desire to turn her over his knee and beat the attitude out of her
pretty ass. Before he could convince himself the right to discipline her was
worth the other trouble he’d be taking on, he said, “A prospective seller.”

“What are you buying?”

“My partner and I are looking at expanding to the West
Coast, but instead of building from the ground up we’re considering existing
venues.” Relieved to have a neutral topic to discuss, Sam started in the
direction of the restaurants. “Buying an established club will mean we have to
work within the existing reputation, but will also mean we don’t have to start
at ground zero with a community that doesn’t know Bondage.”

Melanie asked a few other polite questions but when they
reached the traffic-congested dining area of the hotel, conversation became
impossible. Sam held her arm to avoid losing her in the flow of people. As they
neared the Italian restaurant suggested by Liam Douglass, who’d inherited a
nightclub in Seattle and was eager to sell, Sam released Melanie and stepped
away to put physical space between him and temptation.

The restaurant’s hostess informed Sam that Douglass was
already seated and led the way to their table. Douglass, a tall, raw-boned man
in his early thirties with close-cropped red hair, stood at the sight of Melanie.

Sam made introductions. While he talked, Melanie
repositioned herself to Douglass’ side of the table.

Holding her chair for her, Douglass said, “I didn’t realize
we’d be a table of three or I’d have asked for better seating.”

“This is fine,” Melanie replied with a sunny smile, one that
she hadn’t turned on Sam in too long.She scooted her chair closer to Douglass.
“It’s cozy. A perfect romantic spot under different conditions.”

As Sam narrowed his eyes and took his own seat, their server
came along with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Douglass immediately signaled
for a third glass and slid one in front of Melanie.

“I took the liberty of ordering champagne because I’m
confident we’ll all have something worth celebrating before the evening’s
over,” Douglass informed her. “Have you had champagne before?”

Melanie shook her head and, without looking at Sam, leaned
so close to Douglass the man could probably smell her hair. “I’ve recently been
advised that I make uninformed decisions because I don’t try new things. What
better way to begin exploring than with champagne?”

Chapter Five

“And then what happened?”

“Nothing, really. Dinner, Sam did his business-talk thing.
When dinner was over, I asked Liam to sneak me into the Ceasar’s Palace pool,
which I’ve heard is
gorgeous
.” Melanie transferred the phone to her
other hand so she could pass a wad of crumpled bills to the cab driver and
climb from the car. “Sam looked furious.”

“Yeah, I bet he did,” Brooke said. “Did he say anything?”

“Not a word. Except for looking pissed, he acted like it was
totally acceptable for me to leave with someone else.”

“Um, no. It wasn’t acceptable to him. He just couldn’t do
anything about it without backtracking on the whole ‘not going to get involved
with you’ issue. What are you going to do now?”

Melanie shrugged and walked into the hotel. “I don’t know.
Look for someone else, I guess, since Sam’s not going to budge. He was dead
pleasant to me during the wedding and dinner after. Please and thank you and
nothing else. No dirty looks, nothing.”

“You’re just going to give up?”

“He’s obviously not interested. Well, he’s interested, but
he’s not going to follow up on his interest.” After Sam left the restaurant the
night before, Melanie had backed out of going anywhere with Liam Douglass.
Instead, she’d wandered from hotel to hotel, giving herself a casino tour of
the strip and resigning herself to Sam’s refusal of her. Brooke’s scoffing
question grated on her nerves. There was no “just” about it—Melanie couldn’t
force Sam to do something he didn’t want to do.

“You can’t give up,” Brooke insisted. “Some men have to be
pushed into action. Get him to lose his control, and you’ll have him.”

“I’ll have him through manipulation, which is cheating.”
Stopping just inside the hotel doors, she balanced on one foot and then the
other to remove the strappy heels she’d worn for David and Jovanna’s wedding.
Nearby, the elevator doors whooshed open. Melanie started toward the elevator
but out in the casino, somebody cheered at the clink of coins pouring from a
slot machine.

“Hey,” Melanie said, interrupting Brooke’s lecture on the
topic of women deciding their own fate. “I’m going to go. I’ll call you
tomorrow.”

Before Brooke could object, she ended the call and turned
off her phone with a sigh. The casino beckoned, promising an opportunity to
wander aimlessly, too stimulated by lights and sound to have mental space for
thinking about Sam. Swinging her strappy heels in one hand, she ducked into the
hotel lounge for a drink and caught sight of the very same person she wanted to
avoid.

Sam was so many things she hadn’t found with her high school
and college romances. Intrigued by the possibilities, intrigued by
him
,
she wanted him like she’d never wanted anybody else. She wanted to
know
him.

Even though she knew Brooke’s suggestion was a bad one,
Melanie paid for her margarita and circled around to approach Sam from behind.
He sat at a poker table with a pair of jacks, a pair of sevens and an ace in
one hand and a drink in the other hand. When she reached him, she dropped her
shoes on the floor and slid her arm around his waist. Sam tensed and turned his
head to see her but he didn’t move away. Instead, he looked back to his cards.

“That’s impressive,” she said, resting her chin on his
shoulder and her hand on his fly. His cock started to thicken and swell, which
she encouraged with a little squeeze. Her pussy softened in response to the
memory of him taking her, big and deliberate between her legs.

Melanie rubbed her face against the side of his neck and breathed
in his spicy scent. “Your pile of chips, I mean. What’re you going to do with
it if you win?”

“Hire a nanny to keep you out of trouble.” He repositioned
her fingers to his belt and pushed a stack of plastic chips to the center of
the table. “Douglass can’t keep you in line either?”

“I didn’t offer him any authority over me. Why aren’t you
married?” She ignored his belt and drew her fingernails along the line of his
growing erection, enjoying his obvious discomfort and equally obvious physical
response to her undisguised flirtation. And just because she enjoyed poking the
tiger with a stick, she added, “You’re getting up there in years.”

He discarded his ace and collected another card from the
dealer. “Are you calling me old, little girl?”

She shrugged and wiggled her hand deeper between his legs to
cup his testicles. “I’m not a little girl. And you, well. You’re on David’s
guest list. He’s not exactly college frat boy age anymore.”

The dealer cleared his throat.

“Quiet,” Sam said to her. But he didn’t move her hand this
time.

Quiet meant quiet
er
, right? While Sam did what he
needed to do with his hand of cards, she gathered all her courage and whispered
in his ear, “I want you to dominate me again. Tell me more about your dungeon.
Let me see it when we get back to New York.”

His abs tensed hard beneath her arm and his cock jumped
against her palm.

“You don’t know what you want,” he replied, too low for
anybody but her to hear. “You prove that to me over and over again.”

“I do know. I want you. I want to submit to you. You’re the
one who devalues my decision by refusing to acknowledge it as legitimate.”

“Fold.” Sam put his cards down on the table, pocketed his
remaining chips and pulled her off him. Turning on the stool, he met her eyes.
“I’m thirty-six. You’re what, seven? You’re a little girl.”

“Hmm. Well, you were checking out my tits down by the pool
yesterday. And the day before that you had your dick in my—”

“Melanie,” he warned.

“Well, you did. Does that make you a pedophile?” Flashing
another smile, she tilted her head in the direction of the crowded bar. “And
does that mean you’re going to call the cops on the guy who made my margarita a
double?”

“No cops,” Sam said after a minute. He picked up her drink
and sniffed it before handing it to a passing waitress. “But I am going to make
him wish he’d chosen a different career path. Right after I get you locked away
in your room. Come on. You’re drunk.”

He stood and they weren’t eye level anymore. Sam had half a
dozen inches on her even when she was wearing heels. Standing in front of him
barefoot, she had direct access to his muscular chest. The neck of his shirt
was unbuttoned. The glimpse of dark hair enticed her. Melanie fingered a button
on his shirt, wondering about the texture and pattern over the rest of his
body.

“I’m not drunk.” She wasn’t, but she stooped to retrieve her
shoes anyway. A little buzzed, sure, but her judgment was as clear as her
vision, and she had Sam squarely in her sights. If she were drunk, she wouldn’t
have recognized the opportunity he’d just handed her—an opportunity to have him
all to herself in her fancy Vegas hotel room. The tequila did give her an
excuse to let her shoulder strap slide down her arm as she straightened, hooked
her hand around Sam’s elbow and allowed him to lead her away from the poker
table.

At that time of night, the hotel corridors were practically
empty. Melanie and Sam had the elevator to themselves. He chose her floor and
retreated to scowl at her from the corner.

Smiling mischievously, she put her hands behind her back and
crossed to stand in front of him, so close the hem of her dress clung to his
pants and her breasts rose against his shirt when she inhaled. “You could look
again if you wanted. I wouldn’t mind.”

He narrowed his eyes but didn’t drop his focus from her face
to her cleavage. “What you would or wouldn’t mind isn’t my concern. I’m not
interested. Back off and stop being a brat.”

She swayed forward until she could feel him against her
belly, fully erect and the definition of interested. “Liar, liar. Hmm. Maybe
you
want to submit to
me
. Should I turn you over my knee and spank you for
not telling the truth?”

Sam snorted. “If anybody’s getting a red ass out of this,
it’s not going to be me. Step away, Melanie.”

“Or…what?
Else
?” Another fraction of an inch closer
and she felt his strength from breast to thigh. He radiated heat in the
air-conditioned climate of the elevator. She closed her eyes and clutched his
shirt, humming appreciatively. “You feel good. I’ve been freezing all day in
the casinos and theaters. The only other time I was warm, you chased me back
inside.”

“The next time you come to Vegas, you’ll know to pack a
sweater.” He finally touched her, but only to wrap his hands around her upper
arms and push her away. Before she could make another bid for contact, the
elevator door slid open. Sam turned her around and marched her out into the
corridor.

Melanie sighed and moved away, breaking his loose hold. He
hadn’t cracked a single smile. His disinterest in playing dragged at her good spirits.
“Never mind. Good night, Sam.”

As much as she wanted him in her bed—or in her shower or on
the bureau or against the ice cooler in the alcove around the corner—she
refused to beg. His loss. Shoulders straight and head high, she left him in
front of the elevator and headed for her room, which was at the end of the
extremely long corridor. He watched her the whole way, if the itch between her
shoulders was any indication, and Melanie alternately cursed him and wished
he’d change his mind.

When she reached her room, she took her time looking for the
key. From the corner of her eye, she could see him still standing by the
elevator. Still looking like exactly what she wanted.

Maybe she wasn’t ready to give up yet. After unlocking her
door, she bent to place her shoes and bag just inside so the door wouldn’t
close and lock again. When she straightened, she turned to face him and reached
back to unzip her dress.

“I want somebody to fuck me,” she called down the hall.
Shimmying out of the dress, she kicked it into the room, pushed her shoes and
bag out of the way and pulled the door shut. Locked out, wearing nothing but a
silky pink thong and a fabulous pedicure, she turned to face Sam. “You’re top
on my list of choices but if you’re not interested, I’m sure somebody will be.”

He stood by the elevator for a long minute without saying
anything. When he finally did speak, his voice was even and controlled. “Come
here, Melanie.”

She suppressed a triumphant smile and obeyed.

If she thought the walk away from him took forever, the walk
to him was endless. She wasn’t lying about being cold in the hotel. Her feet
felt like icicles and her nipples peaked to hard, uncomfortable points by the
time she reached the halfway mark. By contrast, her cheeks were so hot they felt
like they were on fire. Sam wasn’t looking at her face or her breasts though.
His eyes were hooded by thick, dark lashes and focused on the narrow triangle
of her panties, which felt clingy and damp against her smooth skin.

At the elevator, she stopped and watched him, not quite sure
what to do about her predicament. She kind of hoped Sam had a plan that
involved getting equally naked.

“You’ve been trying to provoke me into dominating you
because you’ve discovered a new fantasy and decided I’m the right person to
play with.” The elevator opened. Sam pointed a finger, directing her inside.
“So we’ll play, but I’m not some boy all wrapped around your pretty fingers. If
you want something from me, you’ll ask for it. You’ll say please and Sir and
thank you. And if I say no, you’ll abide by the decision or you’ll be punished
as befits the behavior of a willfully disrespectful brat.”

Sam held the elevator door and raised his eyebrows
expectantly. “Is there something you don’t understand?”

There was a hell of a lot she didn’t understand, starting
with the hot flood of cream between her legs, but this was what she wanted so
she shook her head. “No Sir.”

“Then what are you waiting for?
In
.”

In. Right. In way over her head. But oh-em-gee. Barely able
to breathe around her crazy racing pulse, Melanie stepped into the elevator.

Fifty shades of Fletcher, here I come.