Tied with Me (With Me in Seattle #6)(8)
Author: Kristen Proby

“That’s not what I mean,” I respond, and she nods. She knows I’m referring to the injuries she sustained in the car accident a few weeks ago.

“I’m good, Matt. Much better.”

“Good.”

“Are you going to tell me about her?” Brynna asks with a knowing smile.

I don’t even bother pretending that I don’t know what she’s talking about.

“I hardly know her.”

“Didn’t seem that way to me.”

“It’s true.” I look over her shoulder when Nate swings Maddie up onto his back and runs around the yard with her, making her giggle incessantly.

“She’s a really sweet woman. I like her. Do you want her number?”

“I have it,” I reply and smile at her warmly. I never got around to getting it from Nic when I ran out of her apartment two weeks ago, but it wasn’t hard to track her down, since I know where she lives.

“You know where she works now,” she reminds me.

“I’m not going to stalk her at her job.”

“So you’ll just stalk her during her private time?” Brynna asks with an innocent smile.

“Doesn’t Caleb ever spank you?” I ask.

“Yeah”—she sighs and grins over at her husband—“he does.”

“You’ve had your hands on my wife long enough,” Caleb informs me as he cuts in.

“Possessive much?” I ask as I back away.

“Like you’d be any different.”

I smirk, but he’s right. If I found a woman I wanted to spend my life with, I’d be damn possessive.

“Thanks for the dance, sweetheart.”

“Good luck.” She winks at me just before Caleb twirls her away and into his arms.

***

I’m restless.

The reception wrapped up awhile ago. Caleb and Brynna are off to their weekend away on the coast, and everyone has gone home. I’m sitting in my Belltown apartment, watching the lights of my city.

And I can’t seem to get a certain dark-haired pixie out of my head.

I’m not sure what it is about her, exactly, that has me so interested. I’ve fucked my share of beautiful women. Tied them up, had my way with them, and moved on with my life.

Her insisting that she’s not my type should be a flashing neon warning sign that I should just stay away.

No means no, after all.

But she’s wrong. She may not be submissive all the time, but she is beautifully submissive in the bedroom.

And damn if I don’t want to show her how life-changing it can be.

Fuck it.

I yank my phone out of my pocket and dial her number. She answers on the third ring, sounding out of breath, and my cock immediately stirs to life.

All she did was breathe, for Christ sake.

“Hello?”

“Hello, little one,” I murmur and smile when I hear her gasp.

“How did you get my number?”

“You made a cake for my brother, Nic,” I lie, not wanting to admit that I’ve had her number for well over a week now but was too consumed with my family to call her. “It wasn’t hard.”

“You are tenacious, I’ll give you that.”

“Look,” I begin and shove a hand through my hair, “I think we got off on the wrong foot today. I’d like to talk with you.”

“I like you, Matt.” She sighs before she continues. “And, honestly, I’m flattered. You seem like a really good guy. But I wasn’t kidding when I said that I’m not your type.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” I counter softly. “Let me show you.”

She’s quiet for a long minute, and I wonder if I’ve lost her before she clears her throat.

“I’d like to be friends,” she whispers. “But I think that’s all I can give you.”

That’s a start.

“Okay, for now.”

“You’re hot, but you’re not irresistible, you know.”

“You think I’m hot?” I grin and lean my shoulder against the cold glass of the window, watching cars drive by below.

“I have to go, egomaniac.”

“I’d like to see you tomorrow.”

“I just told you…”

“As friends. Friends drink coffee, right? Do you serve coffee at your bakery?”

She chuckles in my ear, and the tension in my stomach loosens as I hear her softening.

“Yes, I serve coffee.”

“Great, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Matt.”

“Good night, little one.” I hang up, change into my gym clothes and head for the door. I’m too restless to be home. I need to burn off some steam, and going to the club tonight holds no interest for me.

Which in and of itself should be another big red flag.

The ten-block jog to the gym is invigorating. Summer has settled nicely over Seattle, making the days warm and the nights just perfect.

I start on the weights, working my core and arms today. Just when I’ve finished my second set of bench press, I sit up and pull my T-shirt over my head, wipe the sweat off my brow and chest with it, and throw it on the floor. As I take a long drink of water, my eyes survey the room.

And that’s when I see her. Jesus, we belong to the same gym? She’s on a treadmill across the room, running at a fast clip. Earbuds are tucked in her ears, and her eyes are on the console of the treadmill, probably watching her distance.

She’s wearing nothing but black shorts and a tight black tank top. More of her body is exposed now than it was when I was plunged deep inside her.

Her little body is firm, yet curvy in the right places. Her arms are defined, probably from all the manual labor she does while baking.

When she’s finished running and climbs off the treadmill, takes a long drink of water and wipes her face with a towel, I walk toward her.

Shit, I must look like a fucking stalker.

I keep my eyes trained on her as I approach, eager to see what her reaction will be when she sees me.

And I’m not disappointed when her eyes widen and her mouth opens as she lets those gorgeous green eyes roam down my body. My cock tightens at her gaze, and I want to pull her against me and kiss her stupid. But I just stay where I am, watching her.

She quickly recovers and raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, Matt, it’s called stalking now.”

I grin and offer her a fresh bottle of water, which she accepts, unscrews the cap and takes a sip.

Fuck, she has beautiful lips. Lips that look amazing wrapped around the head of my cock.