The Bound Heart Read Free Page A

he could wipe away her power, her appeal.
    “Please.” Her voice was soft, hesitant, with no idea what she was asking for from a man like him. “I want this. I want you.” Her face went deep red.
    His lips felt suddenly dry. He closed his eyes to get some measure of control.
    Images pushed forward, his hand threaded through that cool, burnished silk of her hair, her neck arched back and taunt, her mouth lost and loose, and her eyes in that pleasured squint. And of course, rope, her body bound in the softest of rope. Yes, that was the kind of man he was.
    He opened his eyes and looked at her trusting face.
    Need was there. She wanted him, wanted something he wasn’t made to give, yet also something that he could.
    “Let’s look at your brace.”

CHAPTER TWO
    Olive leaned closer to him. It was as if the coal fire had taken all the air out of the room, a soft fogginess hung in her head and was wiping away all clear thinking. Her heart beat over hard in her ears and there was only him, Mr. Edwards, so wonderfully close.
    She needed a few moments. Needed to find her balance.
    Of all the things he could have asked her, why ask to see the brace? It made her feel off center, on edge. Her eyes darted over him, anything to buy a bit of time, clear her head, and work out what he was asking.
    As they stood there, close, not moving, a soft, woody fragrance wrapped around them. An exotic smell that spoke of satin comforters and large silk cushions. Of soft caresses and deep gentle kisses.
    The scent sat in his clothes.
    Olive drew it in, her eyelids lowering as she imagined him in that rich setting.
    Yet the scent was familiar. Her mind hunted through memories to track it, and then there it was. It smelt like the scented oriental sticks Evie burned in The Velvet Basement below, a woody, soft, smoky smell with notes of perfume in it.
    “You smell like the scent sticks Evie burns.”
    He smiled.
    “I burn them at home.”
    She nodded and his gaze moved down to her lips. The burning need in her jumped higher.
    What would his world be like?
    What would it be like to go home with Mr. Edwards, the man who burned Evie’s oriental sticks at home?
    When he looked back into her eyes, need glowed at her. It prickled all through her limbs like fire sparks crackling in the wind.
    His fingers slipped stray strands of her hair over her ear.
    Her breath caught in her throat. She leaned her cheek into his hand, wanted his touch, wanted this agonizing wait for more to end.
    “I wouldn’t think you’d go down to The Velvet Basement,” he said.
    Her face grew hot, at his touch, at speaking about the shop downstairs.
    “No, I just stop in to see Evie. She doesn’t let me past the counter if there are more than one or two customers.”
    “Good for Evie.”
    Mr. Edwards wrapped his hands around her waist; the heat of them seeped in through her clothes, and then he lifted her to sit on the table next to them.
    There was no straining, no hefting her up, just a clean solid lift.
    “You’re strong.” She sounded out of breath. “Not that you look weak.” She hurriedly added.
    She never had the right words to say in these situations, not that there had been many. She wasn’t the kind of girl men went for, no playful taunts and flirting. There was her limp and then there was Billie’s brace. No man needed a woman who needed looking after, who couldn’t step up and get food on the table if he couldn’t.
    Her steadying hand on his shoulder instinctively squeezed his upper arm.
    Steel hard.
    She squeezed again and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
    “My interests require me to have strength. However, you, Miss Thompson, are overly light. Are you eating?”
    His hands slid up her waist and up her rib cage causing her breath to catch. She squeezed her elbows tight to her ribs stopping him from going higher even as her breasts screamed for his touch.
    A hand came up and lifted her chin so she had to look him in the face.
    “Are