“And did you run away?”
Ian shook his head. “My little brother, Marcus, talked us out of it. When we told him about our plans, he reminded us if we ran away and our parents came to fetch us, they wouldn’t be able to find us. So it was better to stay put. It was only after I pulled my brothers out of a dozen school yard brawls that I decided law enforcement might be a good choice for me.”
“It would have been an adventure to run away,” she said.
“Our supplies got confiscated,” Ian explained. “We started hiding food, fruit and bread and milk, and it started to smell really bad. My grandmother’s cook found our stash and threw everything away.”
“There were times when I was a kid I wanted to run away,” she said. “My parents separated and my mother was…fragile. Needy. I raised myself and I’m not sure I did a very good job.”
Ian tipped her chin up and gently kissed her. “I think you turned out real nice.”
She giggled. “Thank you. And you turned out real nice, too.”
“Another reason why we’re perfect together,” he teased.
“We are perfect together,” she agreed. Marisol rolled over on top of him, stretching out until every inch of her naked skin was pressed against his. “See. We even fit perfectly.”
Ian clasped her hands and stretched his arms out above his head. They lay together for a long time, her cheek resting on his shoulder, his breath warm on her temple. There were moments when her choices seemed so simple- Ian, passion; Ian, a future. But instead of focusing on those choices, she’d been forced to make her choices with her father in mind.
Would she have to suffer the consequences for his actions? Would his desperation destroy her chance for happiness? If there was a simple way out, she’d grab it. But it was too late to give the painting back to her father.
“Why didn’t you read the file?” she asked. Marisol was afraid to look at him, afraid her question would open up another argument between them. “Didn’t you want to know what was inside?”
“Maybe I should have,” Ian said. “I guess I didn’t want to ruin the illusion. I didn’t want to trust what someone else had to say about you. I’d rather trust what I know.”
“And what is that?”
“That you’re beautiful and crazy and passionate. That you throw yourself into life like there’s no tomorrow.” He paused. “Up until a few weeks ago, I was waiting around for my life to start, waiting for someone to appear and suddenly everything would make sense. But when I met you, I realized I’d have to go out and grab it and make it happen.”
She untangled her fingers from his, then smoothed her palm over his cheek, kissing him, deeply and thoroughly. “You know I would tell you if I could,” she murmured against his lips.
“I know you would tell me if you trusted me,” he countered.
Marisol slowly drew away, smiling tremulously. “I should go.”
“Promise you’ll come back?”
She shrugged. “We’ll see.” She grabbed his robe and wrapped it around her naked body, then dropped one last kiss on his lips. “Go back to sleep.”
Marisol walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs. She found her clothes where he had dropped them on the kitchen floor. As she dressed, she thought about returning to his bedroom. After all they’d shared, why couldn’t she trust him? What was it that kept her from knocking down the last bricks in the wall she’d built around her heart?
It would be so easy to love Ian Quinn, like breathing, or smiling, no effort at all. Already, it felt as if he’d become a part of her life. She’d tried to sleep in her own bed, but it had become impossible. Having his arms around her, his naked body beside her, was stronger than any sleeping pill she could take.
Marisol tugged her dress over her head, then slipped her shoes onto her bare feet. “Don’t,” she murmured to herself, fighting the temptation to return to his bed. “Don’t let yourself fall in love with him. Not now, not yet.”
But as she walked into the quiet dawn, the sounds of the birds stirring in the trees, Marisol knew there wasn’t much fight left in her. Ian Quinn had chipped away at her doubts and insecurities and she’d surrendered her body to him. How long would it be before he’d own her heart?
IAN STARED UP at the ceiling above his bed, looking at nothing but a gray expanse in the darkened bedroom. The soft sound of Marisol’s breathing beside him did nothing to relax him. Sleep had eluded him once again and though his body was exhausted, his mind refused to go quiet.
Marisol lay naked next to him, her legs twisted in the sheets, her hair strewn about his pillow. For nearly a week, they’d been carrying on these midnight encounters, a physical relationship that was becoming more and more confusing with every day that passed.
What had begun a month ago as a normal little affair had turned into an intense, full-blown sexual obsession. For the past five nights, he’d indulged in nearly every fantasy he’d ever had, and some that he hadn’t. Each night, he’d go to bed and wait for Marisol to appear. She’d sneak into his house, climb the stairs to his bedroom, slip out of her clothes and crawl into bed beside him. After that, they’d lose themselves in a long, slow seduction, two people bent on carnal pleasure.
And every night, it got a bit more desperate, as if they both knew the end was coming. Ian couldn’t help but think they were simply avoiding the reality of their situation, both ignoring the lies that stood between them in favor of the passion that drew them together.
He’d reached the point where he was willing to have Marisol on her own terms, to enjoy what she offered without any thought to the future. They existed in some strange limbo, feeling emotions that would either gently die over time or burn them both up in white-hot flames. Ian couldn’t see a pleasant end to it, no matter how he twisted it around and tried to make it work.
So, what choice did he have? To maintain his own ethical standards, he needed to know the truth. He’d perfected his interrogation techniques on the job in Providence. Maybe he ought to use them here. But he’d have to get Marisol out of her comfort zone, to shock her into realizing that she had no other choice but to confess what was written in the file that Declan had given him.
He crawled out of bed and wandered over to the window, pulling the curtains back to peer out onto the quiet street in front of his house. If only he could keep her here, it would give him time to convince her he could be trusted. But as with the past five nights, she’d wake before sunrise and slip out of bed, silently dressing then walking out without a word or even a farewell.
Ian glanced over at the bedside clock. It was nearly 4:00 a.m. and she’d be waking soon. If he wanted to keep her here, to broach the subject once again, he’d have to come up with a plan. Ian walked over to the closet and grabbed his utility belt from the hook on the door. He found his handcuffs in a small leather case on the belt and pulled them out.
She’d teased him about using the cuffs before. Why not take her up on her suggestion? He walked to the bed and gently took her wrist, snapping the cuff over it. But when he tried to attach the other bracelet to the bedpost, it wouldn’t reach. In the end, he clipped it to his wrist, knowing she wouldn’t be able to leave without his cooperation.
Lying beside her he closed his eyes and for the first time in days, he was able to relax, to retreat into a dreamless sleep, certain when he awoke, she would still be there.
Ian had barely slept, perhaps just a minute or two, when he was jolted awake by a sharp slap to his chest. He groaned softly and opened his eyes. The clock read four thirty, so it had been much longer than he’d thought. He felt a tug on his arm and rolled over, dragging Marisol along with him. It was only then that he remembered the handcuffs.
“Wake up,” she muttered. “And get me out of these things.”
“No,” Ian said. “Go back to sleep.”
“What do you think you’re doing? You can’t handcuff us together.”
“I can and I did,” Ian said.
“It-it’s against the law. It’s…kidnapping or-or unlawful something or other. I could call the police.”
“I am the police, and if anyone asks, I’ll just tell them it was kinky sex gone a bit awry. Now, go back to sleep.”
She yanked on his arm again, forcing him to roll over and face her. She sat cross-legged on the bed, her hair tousled around her face, her color high. She’d never looked quite so beautiful and if this is what bondage did for her,
