Tied with Me (With Me in Seattle, #6)(27)

“Fine.”

He raises a brow, and I swallow, thinking about how my body feels. “Excited. Nervous.”

“Better,” he replies and tugs my top over my head.

He kisses my body as he disrobes me, brushes his fingertips over my skin, leaving me humming in anticipation of what’s to come.

When I’m completely nude, Matt scoops me up and lays me gently in the middle of the bed.

“I’ve added something to your bed,” he informs me with a satisfied grin. He takes my right hand in his, kisses my palm, and then is suddenly looping soft rope around my wrist, tying beautiful knots. He lays my hand above my head and then circles the bed to the opposite side and pays the other wrist the same attention before linking the two with loose loops.

He reaches up, and pulls the same kind of rope down from the rail along the top of my four-poster bed, ties it to my linked hands, and cinches it, hoisting my torso up off the bed until my shoulders no longer touch the mattress.

“Is this painful on your shoulders?” he asks calmly.

“No,” I reply breathlessly, watching him with wide eyes. Just as he reaches for another length of rope—I didn’t even see him grab that when we were at his apartment!—his cell phone rings in his pocket.

“Damn.” His eyes are still pinned on mine. “I’m sorry, baby, this is work.”

He yanks out his phone and takes the call. His eyes narrow, still watching me closely.

“What?!” Now he paces away and stands at the window, looking blindly out at the street. “When? Fuck! Hold him there! What do you mean you don’t have cause? I’ll give you f*cking cause! Fine, I’ll be there in twenty. Do not let him leave, understood?”

He ends the call and grabs his iPad, pulls his keys out of his pocket. “I’m so sorry, Nic, but I have to go.”

“Uh, Matt?” My voice is full of humor as he turns to look at me, and his eyes glass over. “I’m kind of tied up here.”

He drops his keys and iPad into the chair and swiftly returns to me, untying me quickly, rubbing my wrists and lifting me into his lap. He caresses my hair, my face, kissing my forehead and cheeks softly. “I’m so sorry, little one. I wouldn’t have left you like that.”

“I know.” I giggle and burrow into his lap deeper. “You obviously need to go to work.”

“I do.” He sighs regretfully. “We might have just caught a break on a case that we thought had gone cold.”

“I understand,” I murmur and kiss his cheek.

“But, first, we’ll sit here for a minute.” His hand glides down my side to rest on my hip. “It’s torture to leave now. You looked gorgeous in my ropes.”

“We can finish what you started another time,” I assure him.

“Damn right.” He chuckles. His eyes roam down my chest, my nipples still puckered in anticipation.

I’m breathing faster than normal, and my body is humming. His hand travels from my hip to between my legs and cups my sex. “Fuck, you’re wet.”

“I like it when you tie me up,” I whisper.

He growls as he plunges two fingers inside me and begins to f*ck me with his fingers, quickly, not taking his time, but moving rapidly. His thumb presses against my clit, and he buries his face in my neck, biting and licking me. “I’m not leaving here until you come, baby.”

His words and hand send me into a tailspin. My hips rock up, pressing into his hand, as I cry out, my arms wrapped around his shoulders. I ride through the orgasm and then settle against him, panting and spent.

“Better?” he asks, his lips turned up in a half smile.

“Hmm,” I agree and cup his face in my hand. “Thanks, detective.”

He laughs and sets me on my feet. “I’m sorry I have to go. I’ll text or call when I can.”

“Okay. Be safe.”

He tilts his head, watching me. “Interesting choice of words. Good night, baby. Thank you for today.” He kisses me gently and then takes off, pulling his phone out of his pocket before he’s out the bedroom door.

“Asher, we caught a break…”

***

“You can head home, Anastasia. Things are quiet today.” The pretty mother of three grimaces and pulls her apron off as she glances at the time.

There is still an hour before closing time, but it’s dead in here. I could have closed at noon today.

“Yeah, it is. Unusual for a Thursday,” she agrees.

I nod, already mentally tallying how many cupcakes are going to have to go to the homeless shelter down the street tonight. I never serve day-old cakes, so at the end of the day, the leftovers are sent to the needy.

Even the needy deserve a sweet treat.

“Have a good night.” Anastasia waves and heads through the kitchen to her car parked out back.

Just then, the door opens, the bell above tinkling, and in walks Leo Nash. All six-foot-plus of his tattooed hotness. He grins at me in that cocky rock-star way and saunters over to the counter.

“Please tell me you have lemon and chocolate left.”


“You’re in luck,” I reply as I pull down a two-cupcake box and gently lay one of each inside. “How did it go over there today?” I ask, gesturing across the street to the recording studio.

“It went well, actually. The new album is coming along great.”