Bound to His Redemption Read online

  Still, she was leery of hurting him. Getting hair pulled or yanked out down there could be very painful. Though, women did it all the time with waxes, so ...

  With renewed power, she attempted to slide the zipper pull first up and then down. Still no luck. So she tried a few more times until Eamon hissed. Shit. Was she hurting him? Forcing herself to glance up, she asked, “Are you okay?”

  His lips were compressed together, but his eyes blazed under hooded lids. “The zipper is pulling on hair, but I know that’s unavoidable. Just hurry because it’s going to hurt no matter what.”

  She nodded, ripping her gaze away from his. Was it her, or had there been more than pain in his eyes? Heavens, she hoped not, considering her position before him just moments before and the one she’d be assuming again.

  As she bent down slightly, she froze. The fly of his jeans tented out more than it had before — evidence that her efforts had definitely left a lingering effect on him. Oh, God. Oh, God. Seriously, what did she do to deserve this? Some higher power must hate her. How could Eamon be turned on at a time like this? Males!

  She grimly set her lips and reached for the zipper again. Treat it like a stuck-on bandage that needs pulling off quickly. Ruthlessly tugging the zipper up and down, she felt it give. With a few more yanks, it slid down, and she let her hands fall to her sides as she stood up straight. Oh, thank you, thank you.

  But her relief faded quickly as his erection seemed to swell to greater proportions within his boxers, pushing through his now open jeans. She gulped, knowing she needed to hightail it out of there. But her feet remained rooted to the floor.

  Eamon reached for one of her hands and placed it on the bulge. For a second, she was too surprised to do anything, but once her mind returned, she tried to remove her hand. Eamon placed his long fingers over hers and stopped her retreat. “It needs some soothing after your brutal treatment of it.”

  Words sprang to her tongue but quickly died when she glanced up. The look in his eyes, part longing and part fiery lust, killed her rational mind. And she knew she was a goner right there and then. He pressed her hand harder against his penis, and her fingers gently moved over the length. It was steel coated in softness, and only grew harder under her touch. A primal thrill of satisfaction hit her.

  His mouth closed over hers. He tasted like toothpaste and Eamon, an indefinable taste laced with hints of chocolate. Sliding his tongue in, he lost no time and explored her depths. She pressed closer, wanting to crawl into him if it were only possible.

  Their tongues dueled and danced around each other. A moan left his throat, and it was the sexiest thing she’d ever heard. His free hand ghosted down her side to cup her butt. With his other, he guided her hand inside his boxers and then helped her to lower the confining material out of the way. She gasped at the feel of him, warm and strong, against her palm. Her fingers wrapped around him and slowly pumped.

  He growled against her lips and backed her against the wall. His fingers slid under her T-shirt and latched onto the band of her yoga pants. Anticipation built within her, but he chose to tease the skin of her waist until she thought she’d go mad from wanting something, anything, to happen other than those fleeting touches.

  His mouth left hers and followed the curve of her jaw until he reached her neck. There, he lavished the hollow with his tongue and lips until her breath came in quick gasps. Apparently taking pity on her, he ripped her pants and underwear down to her knees in one move.

  Lifting his head, he stared at her, his eyes so otherworldly it shocked her into rational thought. Her hand dropped from him, and she backed away, keeping her gaze carefully above his shoulders.

  What was she doing? Was she really going to get it on with an alien elf in a department store dressing room? How about if there were cameras around? What if someone heard them, and they were arrested for public indecency or something like that? The what-ifs kept shooting through her head. “I ... I ... we can’t. What if someone overhears us, or if there are cameras around? And isn’t this terribly unhygienic?”

  A devious smile came to his lips. “I can take care of most of those worries.” He closed his eyes and uttered a few words in a melodious language that was probably Elvish. “There, all sound is muffled from this room, and I made sure there are no cameras. All for cleanliness, we’ll be careful not to leave a mess and can shower when we get back to your place.”

  Though heat still pooled in her lower stomach, some of her ardor had cooled. “I don’t know. I —”

  He captured her mouth in a kiss and cut off her protests. Her mind went hazy again, but some sane part of her held on. She shouldn’t be doing this, even though it felt so good. Her hands flew to his chest to push him away, but without breaking their kiss, he caught her hands in his and pressed them over the area of his heart. The pounding there thudded against her fingers and into her soul. Suddenly, she wanted him in a way she’d never wanted anything, and she responded to him, passion burning through her blood like a fever.

  When he finally broke their kiss, he yanked her shirt over her head, and her bra followed. As the cool air hit her breasts, the tips engorged even more. He stared down at them with a rapt gaze and licked his lips before taking one in his mouth. His tongue swirled around the areola. Moaning, she raked her hands through his hair. Eamon stiffened. Shit, she’d forgotten he didn’t like to be touched that way. But he didn’t pull away, and the tension slowly melted from his muscles.

  As he returned his full attention to her breasts, she let one hand wander to his back. The skin rippled under her fingertips, but what she found made her gasp. Some parts of his back were smooth, but others felt like they had scar upon scar laid upon the flesh.

  His mouth let go of her nipple with a pop, but instead of ire radiating from him like she half-expected, a sad resignation had seemed to engulf him. “Not everyone is free from scars of the past, Caralyn.”

  She shivered at his words and knew he not only spoke of physical wounds but of mental and emotional ones, too. “You’re very screwed up, aren’t you?”

  His lips tilted up on one corner. “Irreparably, I’m afraid. You’d do well to run, but I’m too selfish to allow that. And at this moment, I don’t think you would, anyway.”

  Though it was horrible to admit it, he was right. She could no more turn away from him right now than she could stop breathing. After clearing the sandpaper feeling from her throat, she said, “No, though I’m sure I’ve gone crazy to allow this.”

  He smirked. “Not as crazy as I’ll soon drive you.”

  White-hot desire shot through her, and they reached for each other at the same time. They made short work of removing shoes and kicking off pants onto the nearby bench. When she saw the full glory of his naked body, her breath caught in her throat. He had sleek muscle in all the right places, and his arousal stood at full attention. The way he wet his lips and stared at her told her more than any words could. His eyes gleamed in a way that was predatory — as if he wanted to devour her. She’d never wanted anything more.

  He once again pushed her against the wall and scooted her up higher so he could place her legs around his waist. If this position was uncomfortable, she sure didn’t feel it yet. But the store could’ve been on fire, and she probably wouldn’t have noticed. All she could focus on was how his erection prodded at her belly. Without thought, she slid her hands to his shoulders and held on for the ride of her life.

  Eamon reached between them and guided himself toward her core. When she felt him at her entrance, she moaned. Laying an open-mouthed kiss on her neck, he slid into her. A wonderful but uncomfortable sensation of being filled to the brim hit her. But as he slowly rocked in and out, the stinging pain soon faded, leaving only pleasure.

  “You feel so good, sweet one,” Eamon said hoarsely.

  Her voice cracked. “You feel pretty fantastic yourself.”

  That seemed to nearly push him over the edge. He increased his rhythm as his mouth explored every inch of her chest
and neck. His mouth latched on a nipple, licking and sucking. The small gasping sounds he made only jacked up her desire.

  Pressure condensed in her center, and she eagerly met each of his thrusts. One of his hands grasped her chin, and he stared into her eyes. His action sent hot chills down her spine. To her, sex was a very intimate act, but looking into the depths of his gaze multiplied that sacredness beyond measure.

  Words could never describe the way she fell through him, only to be surrounded and embraced by his very essence. It was so much more than physical. His was her lifeline in this spiritual sharing — and she was his. By the way his eyes widened, she could see that he was almost as astonished as she by their bare-all connection.

  The good and the bad within him stood in stark contrast to each other, though their colors were so tightly entwined, they couldn’t be unwound. And, oh, had there ever been bad. He’d done and said things that he couldn’t even begin to let himself regret because he feared it would destroy him. That she knew this and could see his innermost self with such clarity shook her deeply. It was frightening, exhilarating.

  Eamon drew in a shaky breath, and closed his eyes for a moment, appearing totally undone. A feeling of awe overcame her, but oddly enough, what they were experiencing only seemed to enhance the desire between them.

  Their hips slapped together as lust flared higher. Perfectly in tune with each other, they designed each touch, caress, and movement to bring the other the greatest pleasure. Every nerve in Caralyn’s body was strung tight and vibrating like a guitar string just wanting for the master player’s finishing strums.

  With one last thrust, Eamon plucked the last chord. She rocketed over the precipice and dragged him along. He gasped against her neck and shuddered against her, his hips jerking spasmodically.

  For a few minutes, neither of them moved. Her legs were still wrapped around his waist, and his head rested against her neck. Eamon’s breath slowly calmed, as did hers. The delightful blankness of her mind faded, and reality came crashing in.

  Suddenly, the wall became cold and hard. Her stiff legs screamed in protest, and when she considered what she and Eamon had just done, her brain almost imploded. She’d had sex in a dressing room with a seriously messed-up elf. An elf, for crying out loud! And in a dressing room. Not to mention he was the first guy she’d properly slept with. Though she was barely a virgin, she’d given up to Eamon, of all people.

  As if he sensed her thoughts, he lifted his head and slid out of her. Avoiding her gaze, he removed her legs from around his waist and let her slide down the wall. She landed on wobbly limbs, and the heat that had encompassed her fled along with his body heat. She’d never felt so bare or cold before, and for a few long moments, she forgot how to move.

  Still not looking at her, Eamon gathered his discarded clothes methodically from the bench. He appeared to have turned into a living marble statue. A tenseness stiffened every line of his body. Did he already regret their lovemaking? That thought froze her blood into ice shards that cut brutally at her insides. The connection she’d felt — maybe she’d imagined it. Even if she hadn’t, apparently it had only been on her side.

  But she forced the idea away as a flight of fancy. To do anything else like examining it would be pure insanity. She was an ordinary human whereas he was anything but human and normal. In fact, their being intimate had been downright crazy.

  After taking a lurching step forward, she fumbled for her clothes on the bench and hooks where Eamon had thrown them. Tears lurked in the tightness of her throat. Though she didn’t glance at him, his overwhelming presence loomed at her back. Tremors racked her body as she attempted and failed to wrestle her emotions back under control.

  The rustle of clothes told her he was getting dressed, which was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because, hey, clothes were good, and covered areas she didn’t want to see right now. But it was also a curse because an image of soft material sliding over sleek muscles cut into her mind and burrowed deep.

  Panic squeezed her lungs until she was nearly hyperventilating. She wanted — no, needed — to get out of here. The small space seemed to shrink and cage her in. The memories of what they’d done pressed in from all sides, chipping away at any remaining composure she maintained.

  She stopped herself short, pausing her frenetic movements. Why was she letting this bother her so much? She was a big girl, and to be this shaken felt silly. Sure, sleeping with anyone, let alone someone like Eamon, was horribly out of character for her, but everyone made mistakes. Though this was a huge one, obsessing about the fact would change nothing.

  So what if he regretted it now? She did, too. No matter how earth shattering it had seemed at the time, it couldn’t be something they repeated again. Sex was too intimate for her to share it with someone she didn’t love and wasn’t even committed to. Which begged the question of why she’d made love with him in the first place. Though, she doubted he’d call it that. He probably thought of it as scratching an itch, nothing more. For some reason, her throat tightened again.

  When she finished collecting her clothes, she turned away from the mirror and the now dressed Eamon. She almost snorted at the futility of her actions. He’d already seen everything, and it wasn’t like she could truly hide any part of her body right now, anyway. Fortunately, he was staring at a spot on the wall and appeared absorbed in his own thoughts. What was going through that mind of his? Probably better that she didn’t know.

  She grimaced. There was an unfamiliar stickiness down there she didn’t appreciate. She’d have to get into her —

  When Eamon’s hand appeared before her, tissues resting on his palm, all she could do was stare at the offering. She blinked to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.

  “They’re the ones from your purse. I saw you put them in this morning.”

  Though she was slightly irritated that he’d gotten into her bag, his gesture was incredibly sweet, especially from someone like him. She knew without being told that his caring actions were far and in-between.

  After taking them from him, she quickly wiped up the mess and used two she’d saved so she could wrap up the dirty ones. There was nothing for it. She’d have to stick them in her purse until she found a garbage can.

  Caralyn managed to get her clothes on without her hands shaking too much. While she was still frazzled, at least she’d buried the worst of her upset. If she had to have a freak-out, she could do it later when he wasn’t around. Then she remembered he lived with her, and she gave an internal groan of misery. Finding any kind of real privacy might be hard. But even if she had to escape to the bathroom to be alone, she would.

  First things first — getting out of here. She pasted a carefree smile on her face that threatened to falter at any second. Turning toward him, she said, “Why don’t you get the clothes you picked out so we can go checkout?”

  She avoided meeting his gaze, and heavens, why was it next to impossible to keep her voice even?

  “I have them right here.” He nodded robotically to a pile of clothes lying neatly on the bench. Lifting them into his arms, he said, “Let us go.”

  “Good.”

  Caralyn practically wrenched the door open and ran out into the waiting hallway. Then it dawned on her that she was still in the men’s dressing-room area and hardly being subtle. She glanced around, and a wash of relief hit her. No one was lurking nearby.

  Her luck burst as soon as she stepped out of the dressing room area, though. The two sales women were back, and their envious smirks left no doubt as to what they thought Caralyn had been doing back in that dressing room with Eamon.

  Horror poured through her. Had they stood outside the door and heard something? No, Eamon had said no sound would escape and that the security camera wouldn’t function. But that didn’t mean the two harpies couldn’t have stood outside the door and seen an eyeful.

  Oh, God. She ducked her head, not wanting to look at anyone. A hand on her elbow startled her, and she whirled around
. When she saw who it was, a spurt of anger ignited. Eamon. What a surprise. Not. He was the cause of all her current problems. But she couldn’t bring herself to scream and rail at him in public.

  He bent down to whisper in her ear and slipped his arm about her waist. “Hold your head up high. You’re worth a thousand of those two. Let them think what they want. After all, they’re not wrong.”

  He flashed the two sales women a devilish smile that seemed to say they could look all they wanted because they would never experience the wonder of his erotic touch.

  Annoyance and gratitude rolled themselves into a tight ball that settled around her heart. “This is so embarrassing,” she muttered.

  Marching up the nearest register that the two harpies didn’t man — a middle-aged guy named George did, thankfully — she kept her back as straight as possible. Eamon wanted her to sail right along as if nothing untoward had happened? Fine.

  She rooted through her purse for her hiding wallet while the sales clerk finished ringing up another customer’s purchases. Eamon reached around her and placed the clothes on the counter. “Nicely played.”

  Shooting him a dirty look, she shook her head. “This isn’t a game, at least to me.”

  “Everything’s a move on the chessboard, whether you know it or not.”

  “What a cynical outlook.”

  “Just realistic.”

  “That’s sad.” And she meant it. That he truly believed everything was a manipulation of some sort spoke volumes about his previous life. The glimpses she’d caught from her drawings of his past had been bad enough without this newest layer being heaped on top of it.

  As if he were reading her thoughts and found them hateful, his face grew thunderous. “It’s called facing reality, little girl.”

  She stiffened. It felt so wrong that he called her that after they’d just had sex. “Really, you’re being condescending after everything?”