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“Then let me go.”
“I want you to feel.”
“I do feel. All the time. I’m feeling pissed off at you right now for making me do this.”
Ream cracked a half smile. “No. Forget about everything else and just feel me.”
“I did feel you. For years I felt the hurt from what happened that day.”
His eyes darkened and he frowned. “You ever just think about what the fuck you’re saying, Kat? Because it’s really pissing me off. Been for a while now. You’re holding shit over my head for what I’ve apologized for and explained why I walked out and needed time to process that shit. I’m not repeating myself. I hurt too, Kat. Don’t think you were alone in that. You fucking another guy two days after me … you think that didn’t blast a hole through me?”
He straddled me and droplets of water from his body dripped and landed onto my skin. My hands tied above my head, the heat of the sun, both of us soaking wet and Ream leaning over me yet not touching a single spot on my body, it was maddening. I wanted to say fuck everything and fall under his magnetic spell. “You either forgive me and accept what I’ve said, or you don’t. Which is it?”
I hated that he was right. “I didn’t sleep with him,” I whispered.
He froze.
God, just the look on his face made me cave and tell him the truth. “I never planned on it. I just … I was hurt you ran out. I thought you were disgusted with me and I … I was trying to find a way to get my dignity back. So that … so that it looked like you didn’t matter.”
“Kat.” His voice was quiet. “You matter. We matter. Always have. But no more hurting one another. I want to hear you say the words.”
“Ream.” I took in a large inhale of air. “I … I don’t want us to hurt anymore.”
“Me neither, baby.”
Hands on either side of my head, knees straddling my pelvis, chest inches from my breasts, and all I could do was lie still, my breathing erratic and my lips dry and aching. Shit, could lips ache to be kissed? Because mine were and if I moved, I’d touch him and I wanted that desperately. “Your nipples are aching for me to touch them.” He lifted his hand just above my right breast and I stopped breathing. “Do you want me too?”
My pride screamed no, but my body screamed “hell yes.” I arched my back and he moved his hand away. I made a low growl with frustration.
“Ream? What are you playing at?”
“Not playing at … playing with.” He leaned closer, his lips hovering over mine. Water drops slipped down his strands of hair and sprinkled my face. “You didn’t follow instructions.”
“What?”
He looked briefly at my breasts. “The red suit. What did you do? Have a hissy and throw it out?”
I averted my eyes. “Yeah, well I don’t follow instructions very well.”
“Oh, beautiful, I know that. And we’re going to take the next couple of days to make certain you do.”
“I’m not a fucking dog, Ream.”
He chuckled and I felt the vibrations in the dock penetrate into my body. “We going to have issues?”
I glared.
“Yeah. I see we are.” He suddenly got up and grabbed the towel lying next to me and wrapped it around his waist. Then he leaned down, undid the rope, and started walking back to the cottage. “Let’s eat.”
What? He was walking away? He ties me up, straddles me, teases me, and then he casually gets up and walks away?
I was so livid and turned on at the same time that I couldn’t even begin to understand the emotions playing havoc on my body. I’d wanted him to grab me and kiss me then sink his cock into me so hard and fast. Jesus, I can’t believe he had the nerve to walk away? Just because I didn’t put on the red suit he bought me?
I scrambled to my feet and dove into the water. Just before I went beneath the surface, I heard him chuckle.
***
By the time I came back to the cottage, the aroma of bacon, burnt toast, and eggs flooded the air. I hesitated at the screen door, peering in, seeing Ream with his shirt off, shoulder blades reflecting each movement as he shoveled around eggs in the frying pan.
As if sensing me watching him, he glanced over his shoulder. “Eggs are nearly done. I burned the toast. Put some more on, would you?”
I slid the screen door open, walked in, then set the mugs on the counter. If I moved a few steps closer, my body would be up against his¸ hands able to stroke every contour of his back. I quickly looked away.
The scrape of the spatula on the aluminum pan reminded me of fingernails skating down skin—Ream’s skin. I couldn’t do this. I was on fire and I was going to combust. How could he calmly stand there flipping eggs when ten minutes ago he’d been on top of me with my hands tied?
I jerked as he slid the pan off the burner then turned. “Toast?”
“Umm, yeah.” I slid past him and grabbed the bag of bread and pulled out four pieces, which I plopped in the toaster. I pressed the lever down and stood staring at it, palms flat on the counter.
I jumped when I felt his hands on my hips. I could feel every pad of his fingertips through my sheer cover up. Suddenly I wished I’d gone and put something thicker on … like a snowsuit. He moved in closer and his naked chest pressed into my back.
Oh Jesus. My throat was dry and I swear any willpower I thought I had just got machine gunned and lay in a pool of blood on the kitchen floor.
His hands slid up my sides and then back down again, and it felt like he left a trail of electricity behind. I closed my eyes, my stomach dropped, and a swish of desire settled in deep. I couldn’t do this.
