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“Is that how this is going to be?” he asks. That’s when I realize I’m very naked and he is still in his shorts.
“Yes.”
“Huh.”
Before I can say another word, he lifts me up, tosses me on the bed, and then smothers me with his body. His lips land on mine, and then he’s ravishing my mouth, diving his tongue deep, running his hands all over my curves, parting my legs and stroking me where it counts.
I’m suddenly overwhelmed by how desperate he feels, because I can feel that desperation inside of me as well.
I don’t know that I’ll ever get enough of this man.
But then it hits me—I know what he’s doing. He’s using sex to get me to talk like he did last time. But this time, I’m prepared. I can resist him. I can fight right back. I can—
“What the...?”
The sound of metal hitting metal hits my ears first, followed by the feel of something around my wrist.What the actual fuck?
“Did you just...”
Maddox releases his hold on my wrist, the one that is now handcuffed to his bed frame, and sits back on his heels, admiring his handiwork. Meanwhile, I’m still in shock over what just happened. I can’t even form words as I watch him reach into his nightstand and pull out another pair of handcuffs, gripping my free wrist and repeating the process, but this time with my knowledge.
He just fucking handcuffed me to his bed.
“Have you lost your damn mind?”
“What? I thought you’d like this? You did say it was one of your fantasies awhile back?”
“Yeah, when I’m a willing participant. But right now, this feels more like being held as a prisoner.”
He shrugs. “I think it’s a mixture of both.” And then he rises from the bed and stares down at me, blatantly pleased with himself.
“Why are you doing this?” Tears start to build in my eyes, but I blink them away.
“Because I think you need some time to think about why you’re fighting this so much.”
“What?” I twist my head as I look up to confirm the cuffs locking me to the iron bars of his headboard, my anxiety from before morphing into anger. “Unlock these right now, Maddox, or you’d better sleep with one eye open from now on!” I start to kick and thrash, but the pull against my wrists sends a pain up my arm, stopping me fairly quickly.
His chuckles make me even angrier. “What are you going to do about it? In fact, that’s a pretty angry threat from someone who doesn’t have the use of her hands right now.” He leans over me, brushing his lips against mine. Then he kisses his way down my neck and over to my breasts where he circles his tongue around both of my nipples and then slowly descends upon the apex of my thighs. With one drag of his tongue through my slit, I moan and arch against the bed, wondering how I can simultaneously hate and crave the man at the same time.
But then he pulls away.
“Maddox Taylor, I swear to God...”
“Sorry to break it to you, Penelope, but even he can’t save you right now. I’m officially putting you in a time-out so you can think about why you won’t give in to me completely, why you shut down every time I ask you to open up to me. I know we’re good at sex. I mean, hell—sex with you is unreal, woman. But you’re keeping a part of you under lock and key, and you won’t let me in. I know you want to; it’s written all over your face. But you’re choosing not to. So until you’re willing to talk to me, this is where you’ll stay.” He dangles the keys in front of my face and then sets them on the nightstand right next to the bed, just out of reach, taunting me with my freedom.
“I have a life! I’m supposed to meet the girls for brunch in thirty minutes!” I shout as I watch him walk down the hall, not even bothering to look back in my direction.
“Not sure when I’ll be back! Get comfortable!”
And those are the last words I hear before he opens and shuts the door to his apartment, leaving me all alone and imprisoned with no way to free myself and nothing but time to plot his murder.
* * *
Walking past the window of Frankie’s, I can see Charlotte speaking to my two other friends. I’m sure they’re wondering where the hell I am, and boy, do I have a story for them—one that gives me no choice but to come clean about Maddox and me for it to make sense.
Though right now, “Maddox and me” is iffy. I’m still so pissed at that fucker that he might want to stay clear of me for a while.
As soon as I reach the handle on the glass door, I burst into Frankie’s, my hair looking like a rat’s nest and my eyes wild with rage, I’m sure. Wearing a barely there purple dress and heels—because that’s what I had on last night when I arrived at Maddox’s—I stomp across the restaurant toward my girls and plop down into my seat, seething.
