Tied with Me (With Me in Seattle, #6)(4)

“My pleasure,” I reply happily, relieved that they’re happy with the end result of many hours of planning.

“You make the best cake in the whole world,” a blond woman next to Brynna tells me, but as I turn my head toward her, I swear to God above, I have a hallucination.

Someone slipped me a roofie, and I’m suffering from side effects.

That’s the only explanation I can come up with for why I’m standing here looking at the one man I can’t seem to shake from my memory, no matter how hard I try.

I blink once, but he’s still there, in khaki pants and a white button-down, his light brown hair combed into a tidy style, rather than the messy waves they were in the last time I saw him.

But those eyes…those eyes that are bright blue, narrowed and fixed on my face, watching my every move, are exactly as I remember.

“Holy shit,” I whisper and try to take a step back.

“Do you know each other?” Caleb asks.

Stay professional!

I shake my head and offer Brynna the best smile I can manage. “I’m so happy that you like the cake. It’s ready to go for you. Congratulations again.”

And with that, I turn to leave, but before I can even take one step, I hear, “Stop.”

As much as it totally pisses me off, my body halts and I stand still, my hands folded in front of me, and watch him warily. Just the sound of that one word out of his sexy-as-hell mouth has my nipples puckered.

Thank God no one can tell since I’m wearing this baker’s jacket.

I refuse to cause a scene here in front of all of these people, but what I really want to do is tell him to kiss my ass and stomp off.

Pinning me with his gaze, he grasps my arm and leads me away from the others.

“I’m happy to see you, Nic. You look beautiful. The new haircut suits you.”

His nose pressed to my ear, the clean, masculine scent of him surrounding me, has me turned inside out, and frankly, I can’t deal with it.

I can’t deal with him.

I’m breathing hard, and my cheeks are flushed as I wrench my arm out of his grasp, toss him an angry glare and storm away.

I’m not sure, but I think I hear him mutter, “Spank her ass,” behind me, making me move faster, praying that he doesn’t follow me.

And just like that, memories I’ve been fighting to forget come barreling back at me…




“Are you coming or not, little one?”

Bailey pushes me with her shoulder, and I stumble toward him, not able to look away from those incredible blue eyes.

“So, you want to give it a try?” he asks, holding my gaze.

I swallow hard and nod slowly.

Where the hell did my voice go?

“I need a verbal response, please,” he replies with a knowing smile.

“Yes, please.”

“Don’t worry,” he whispers as he leans his face close to mine. “This won’t hurt a bit.”

I offer him a small smile, and he surprises me by pulling his fingers gently down my cheek, then brushes his thumb over my lower lip, sending my body into overdrive.

My nipples have puckered, and I swear to God I need to change my panties.

And he really hasn’t even done anything yet!

He drags a black duffle bag across the floor to his feet and rummages inside, drawing out a long length of white rope.

“White will look beautiful against your clothes,” he murmurs, deep in thought. He scrubs his fingers over his mouth as he thinks, bouncing his attention between me and his bag of tricks.

I giggle at the thought, then cover my mouth with my hand as his head snaps around and he raises an eyebrow as he watches me.

“Something funny?”

I shake my head no, but he grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger, making me meet his hot gaze.

“Try again.”

“I thought it was funny that you were rummaging through your bag of tricks.” My voice is soft. Why do I feel the need to please this guy?

His lips twitch, and he releases me, and I’m shocked at the feeling of loss at having the contact of his skin gone from mine.

God, get a grip. I obviously need to get laid. It’s been…way longer than I am comfortable admitting.

“Wrap your arms behind your back and grab your forearms with your hands.”

“I don’t want my hands bound,” I reply quickly.

He stares at me for a moment and then steps to me, leaning in so his mouth is near my ear. God, he smells amazing, like spicy body wash and hot, unadulterated man.

“I can cut you out at the drop of a hat, little one. This won’t hurt you. Trust me.”

He pulls back, watching me, and I nod hesitantly, putting my arms around my back like he asked. I don’t know why I trust him, but I do. He’s not going to hurt me.

I’m rewarded with a bright smile, and if my panties weren’t already wet, they would be now. Holy shit, this man is amazing. As he turns away from me to gather his rope, I let my eyes wander down his body. He’s very tall, over six feet. His shoulders are broad and covered by a black button-down shirt, the cuffs rolled on his corded forearms. The shirt is tucked into black slacks, and he’s wearing black shoes and a belt as well.

The black should give him a daunting appearance, but it’s just plain hot. It fits him.