Chapter 18
18
Whit Bowman
T he lights are off, covers pulled up to my chin as I lie on my side. My eyes are slammed shut as I hear heavy footsteps draw closer to the door. We’ve been home for a little over an hour now, and Conrad must finally be done with evening chores, meaning he’s going to come in here to go to bed.
Something I’ve been trying to do from the minute we got home.
Conrad has been in a feisty, unusual mood all day, but especially since learning about my breakup with Reggie. I have a feeling he’s going to try to talk, but I don’t want that, hence why I’m faking being asleep as he opens the door to the bedroom. Behind my closed eyelids, I can see the light spilling in from the hallway, but I just squeeze them shut tighter.
Even without seeing him, I can make out exactly what he’s doing, and when. Conrad is a man of routine. Of structure. We have that in common. After he crosses the room in long strides, he stops in front of the dresser, where he unbuttons his flannel shirt. Taking it off, he tosses it into the hamper—something he’s quite good at. I remember never finding clothes sitting on the floor. After he removes his pants and throws them in the bin too, he then goes into the bathroom.
Five minutes, almost exactly. Never more, never less. That’s how long he’s in there. He brushes, flosses, and uses the bathroom before coming to bed. It’s what he does every single night, and it’s what he’s done for years. Conrad is a creature of habit. Except when he exits the bathroom and flicks off the light, he doesn’t climb into bed. I can feel his presence, though. He’s standing right in front of his side, and I don’t even need to roll over and look to know.
The silence drones on, and it becomes stifling.
What is he doing?
Finally, “I know you’re awake, Whit.”
My heart thumps against my ribs, but I don’t move. He doesn’t know anything.
“Whit, get up,” he grunts, walking over toward the door and flipping the light switch. “We’re not going to bed until we talk about this.”
Without opening my eyes or moving an inch, I murmur, “You know as well as I do how early morning comes, Conrad. Get in bed. We can talk about this some other time.”
“No.” The gruffness behind that one word startles me and has me opening my eyes. I don’t roll over to face him, though. Not yet. “We are talking about this, goddamnit.”
That does it.
Flipping over in bed, I sit up, eyes narrowed. I’m doing my best to ignore the way he looks in just his boxers.
Now is not the time to ogle him, Whit. Focus!
“Who the hell do you think you are?” I snap. “And what right do you get to demand I do anything ?”
Hands firmly on his hips, Conrad heaves a sigh. “Why are you being so damn difficult? I’m just trying to have a simple conversation with you.”
His voice is low but demanding, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Since when do you want to have a simple conversation, Conrad?”
“Since right now!”
“Would you keep your voice down,” I hiss. “You’re going to wake your nana up. Just go to bed, would you?”
“Whit.” He speaks my name through gritted teeth, his stare hardened. “I’m not going to bed. We are talking about this.”
Oh my god. He is infuriating. It’s clear he’s not willing to let this go. Glancing over at the clock on his nightstand, it’s already after nine. Christ. Throwing the covers off my lap, I jump out of bed.
“Fine,” I grit out. “But if we’re talking about this, we’re going outside because we’re not going to wake her up. If she hears us, this whole thing is for nothing.”
“Fine,” he parrots.
Glowering at him, I huff out, “Put a damn robe on or something. We’re not talking about anything while you’re half naked.”
One side of his lip curves into a smirk. “Why? Afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands to yourself?”
Looking over at him, I can’t help but shake my head. “First, you actually want to talk about real feelings, and now, you’re trying to be funny? Who are you and what have you done with Conrad?”
He grabs his robe off the back of the door, slipping it on. “Ha ha,” he deadpans. “Let’s go.”
This is unbelievable.
He rips the door open and strolls out, leaving me to follow. I pluck my jacket off the back of the door, slipping it on as I walk through the house, following the giant in front of me. It’s a chilly evening as we step onto the porch, so I zip my coat up to my chin, but it doesn’t help.
“Let’s go out to the barn. It’ll be warmer in there,” Conrad grunts, not waiting for me to agree as he bounds down the steps, shaking the whole damn porch.
Walking through the main part of the barn, he leads us into the office. He turns on the space heater in the corner before flicking on the lamp on his desk, sitting on the edge. I take the chair, scooting back to put some much-needed distance between us.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I jut out my chin. “Okay, talk.”
Chest rumbling with a chuckle, Conrad matches my stance, crossing his arms over his wide, burly chest, the dark hair peeking out from underneath the robe. “I’ve gotta say, I’ve missed how sassy you can get.”
“I am not sassy,” I scoff, face scrunching up.
“Oh, yes, you are.” More chuckling.
Blowing out an exasperated sigh, I ask, “What was so damn important that we had to talk tonight?”
The smile fades from his face as his eyes zero in on me. The urge to look away is strong, but I fight against it. I can look Conrad in the eye for this, even if it makes me want to crawl out of my skin.
“Why’d you hide the breakup?” he asks darkly.
“I didn’t hide it, Conrad. I just didn’t tell you. There’s a difference.”
“Same thing, and that’s not an answer.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, holding his gaze. Chest rising and falling with a deep breath, I finally say, “Why is it so important, Conrad? Why are you pressing this so hard?”
He watches me for a moment, silence settling between us. It’s unnerving.
“Because I want to know,” is all he gives me, and I want to scream.
“That’s not an answer.”
“Tell me,” he grits out. “Now.”
“Oh my god!” Jumping out of my seat, I walk to the other side of the room before turning to face him. “You’re ridiculous, you know that, right?” I laugh dryly, sounding maniacal to my own ears. “You act like a fucking caveman sometimes. ‘ Oh, big man. Tell me. Bang, bang on my chest. Rawr.’ You’re absurd!”
Conrad has the fucking nerve to laugh. Full on, head falling onto his shoulders, belly laugh. “I do not sound like that,” he mutters.
“Yes, you fucking do!”
“You know, I remember how much you used to get on my case about needing to communicate. To talk about how we were feeling. And now that I’m trying to do that, you want to shut me out?”
“Are you kidding me?” My hands rip through my hair, tugging on the strands, as I try to make sense of this situation. “It’s too late to talk now, Conrad!”
He stays unmoving on the edge of that desk, arms crossed over his chest. His brow arches, and it’s the only sign he actually heard me. “Is it?”
My brows pinch, heart thumping. “W-what?”
“Is it really too late, Whit? Or do you just prefer it that way?”
The question trips me up, and I can’t reply for a moment. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You answer me first, Whit.” Sliding off the edge of the desk, his legs carry him in long, purposeful strides until he’s standing directly in front of me. So close I have to look up to meet his gaze. “Quit playing games with me. Quit answering my question with another question. Just answer. The. Damn. Question.”
Clenching my jaw so hard it aches, I drag in a deep breath through my nose. “Fine,” I huff out. “You want to know why I didn’t tell you that I broke up with Reggie? It’s because I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. I didn’t want you to think I did it for you.”
Face stoic, Conrad watches me. “Didn’t want me to get the wrong idea?” he asks. “Or you?”
My face screws up. “Why would it be me?”
“You tell me.” Conrad takes another step forward, forcing me to take one of my own backward. “You seem to forget who came onto who that night.”
He doesn’t need to clarify which night he’s referring to. It hangs between us like a neon sign. Goosebumps bloom all over my flesh, and it’s got nothing to do with the chill in the air.
“I wasn’t thinking clearly,” I grit out.
“Seemed pretty fucking clear to me.”
“You’ve always been terrible at seeing what’s right in front of your face, Connie.”
His nickname slides off my tongue before I can stop it and, of course, he notices. I don’t miss the heat in his eyes or the quiet rumble coming from his chest. I also don’t miss the way he takes another step, forcing my back against the barn wall.
Leaning in, Conrad brings his lips right beside my ear. “That was then,” he whispers, his hot breath fanning my neck in a way that has my toes curling. “I see things much clearer now.”
My voice gets lost in my throat. Actually, no, it’s smothered by my heart that’s lept up in there, beating violently. He’s so close. So. Close. Coming out here was a mistake. Nothing good is going to come of this, not with the way he’s towering over me like a lion about to feast on its prey. He’s hungry and on a mission, and I’m defenseless against him. I’m weak compared to him. A scared little gazelle.
“Want to know what I think?” he asks, his throaty, gruff voice sending another shiver down my spine that lands right between my legs. “I think you kept it from me as an attempt to protect yourself from what you want.” I suck in a sharp gulp of air as I feel his scratchy face brush up against my cheek. “I think you hate how much you enjoyed our night together. I think it made you realize just how much you still care about me, and I think that fucking terrifies you.”
Biting down on my tongue to keep from saying anything, I hate how right he is. How easily he reads me.
“How’d I do?” I can hear the smirk in his tone. “Was I close?”
“No.”
Conrad clicks his tongue. “You’ve never been a good liar, Whit. I hit the nail on the head, didn’t I?”
Huffing out a breath, I turn my head until we’re face to face. “You didn’t hit shit except maybe your own damn head if you think you’re right.”
“Oh, kitten…” Bringing his hand up, he gently—so fucking gently—brushes his thumb across my cheekbone. “I know I’m right.”
His brazen confidence shouldn’t be a turn-on; it shouldn’t set off flames inside my veins, but it does. My nipples harden under my shirt, every inch of skin feeling electrified as I try to fight it.
“He didn’t deserve it,” I finally murmur, eyes cast down, unable to look at him.
“Who didn’t?”
“Reggie.” Shame floods my system at even saying his name, and I don’t miss the way Conrad’s entire body stiffens. “Reggie didn’t deserve what I did to him that night.”
Quiet for a moment, he finally says, “He was never good enough for you.”
I look up, taken aback by the ferocity in his gaze as he stares back at me. “That doesn’t mean he deserves to be cheated on and lied to.”
“You feel guilty, then. Is that what it is?”
“Of course, I feel guilty, Conrad! Don’t you?”
“Fuck no, I don’t feel guilty.”
“Why?”
“I don’t owe him anything. You’re my husband, and you came to me when you needed something. There’s nothing to feel guilty about.”
“Except I’m not your husband, Conrad. I’m not yours anymore.”
A growl rips from his throat that I can feel in my bones. “You will always be my mine, Whit. Always . No amount of time or distance will change that.”
There’s no time to respond, no time to even think because, in a flash, Conrad’s lips crash into mine. Taking what he wants—what I want, if I’m being honest with myself—with enough force and passion to steal my breath away. His large, imposing body crushes mine against the wall, one hand coming to my hip, anchoring me there, the other smoothing up my chest and gripping my neck with enough pressure to heat my blood to dangerous levels.
Tongue thrusting into my mouth, he utterly and completely devours me. Conrad kisses me like he’s a dying man and I’m his last meal, and I can do nothing more than hold on tight and hang on for the ride. Teeth clashing and nipping, tongues tangling, hands grappling. Everything about this moment is messy and on fire and absolutely everything.
By the time he pulls back, our lips are swollen and slick, his eyes nearly black, and our chests heave with our inability to catch our breath.
“Tell me I’m wrong, Whit.” Gaze wild, voice guttural, Conrad gives me no space as he waits for my response. The response he knows I can’t give him. He smirks devilishly, and it weakens my knees. “I think it’s about time I remind you just how much you belong to me, kitten. Remind you just how much you need me.”
Taking a step back, he unties the fabric belt from around his robe, dragging it through the loops until it’s freed. The robe opens, his beautiful, wide, fuzzy chest on display. My blood heats and my pulse thunders.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
He flicks his chin upward with a rumbling chuckle. “Hands above your head, kitten.”
Glancing up slowly, I take in the metal hook right above my head, a shiver wracking through my body, nearly paralyzing me as realization hits me. “No,” I husk, my tongue twice the size, throat dry. There’s no fight in my tone; it’s weak even to my own ears.
“Don’t be like that, baby,” he drawls sweetly, and my heart stutters at him calling me that. It almost makes me whimper. “I know how much you love being a good boy for me. So, do as you’re told. But first, take off your shirt.”
I consider telling him no again, and maybe meaning it this time. I consider storming back inside and going to bed like I should do. Believe me, I do.
But it’s brief.
There’s no denying how much my body wants this. Even if a small portion of my mind knows this is wrong, knows I’ll regret it in the morning, my body needs this. So, unable to make eye contact, I reach behind me, tugging my shirt over my head. It lands on the floor, and I know there’s no turning back. The soft whooshing sound of the fabric hitting the concrete is the seal of my fate.
“Good boy,” Conrad says, voice like gravel. “Now, hands up.”
Raising my hands above my head, I also lift my gaze, my breath catching as I take in the overflowing desire pouring out of Conrad’s eyes. Without looking away from me, Conrad weaves the belt skillfully until there are two holes big enough to fit my hands through. He loops it around the hook a few times until he’s secure, then he feeds my hands through the openings one by one. Each movement is painstakingly slow.
My heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of my chest.
As he tightens the restraints, I feel a slight pressure around my wrists. Not enough to hurt, but enough to know I’m not going anywhere easily. Goosebumps cover every inch of my skin, and my cock is hard and throbbing behind my sleep pants. The second he looks down, he’ll see it. It’s twisted how turned on I am, completely at the mercy of my ex-husband.
Conrad drags his index finger along the column of my neck, down my abdomen, until he gets to the waistband of my pants. He pauses, flicking his gaze up to mine, a grin curling his lips.
“God, you look ravishing like this.” The compliment rolls off his tongue like melted butter, and it washes over me, bathing me in his praise. “You remember what to say if you need to stop?”
I nod.
“I’m going to need to hear you say it, kitten.”
I wet my lips with my tongue, trying to bring some moisture back to my mouth. All my senses are overwhelmed, and we haven’t even gotten started, but I suppose that’s always par for the course with Conrad, isn’t it?
“Red,” I rasp.
“Good boy.” Conrad’s voice is like velvet caressing my body.
His fingers tease the skin beneath the waistband of my pants for a moment before he drags them up again. One featherlight fingertip circles my nipple, making me shudder. He’s barely touching me, but it ignites every nerve ending. I can feel the light flick over the sensitive bud all the way down to my toes. I feel it everywhere.
“You always did enjoy having me take control, didn’t you?”
Another shiver ripples down my spine as I nod. “Yes.”
“Your need for control takes over your life,” he goes on. “It consumes you, and you don’t know how to let it go. But right here, with me, has always been the one place you could let go. The one place you could be free.”
I drag my bottom lip between my teeth, but say nothing. He’s right, and we both know it. I don’t know why I have such a strong need to be in control of everything . If I have the control, then I know what’s coming, and I can prepare for it. The unknown has always terrified me. Go with the flow has never been me. My mom threw me a surprise birthday party for my seventh birthday, and I broke down in tears and hid in my closet the entire day, refusing to come out.
Selfish. Dramatic. Ungrateful. Those were all words used to describe me that day—and many others—but years later, thanks to therapy, and tests, and a diagnosis that did wonders at making me not feel so alone, I learned new words to describe the way I was feeling. I wasn’t selfish or ungrateful; I was experiencing a sensory overload. I wasn’t dramatic or over the top, I simply struggle with emotional regulation.
Something about Conrad—something I’ve never been able to pinpoint, but I can feel it nonetheless—has always been safe for me. In his arms, I’m able to let go, to not worry. With him, I’m able to turn my mind off. He takes the control, but I know at the end of the day, it’s still me who calls the shots. I’ve never trusted anybody as inexplicably as I do him, even after all these years. Even after everything we’ve been through.
“Now, tell me, kitten…” Pinching my nipple and making me gasp, Conrad glances up, onyx eyes pulling me in. He reaches above my head to trace along my wrist, where the belt has me secured. “Has anybody else ever had you like this?”
My knees tremble as I hold his intense gaze, heart thundering out for more of his touch and attention. Shaking my head, I say, “No.”
A low rumble sounds from his chest as his lips tip up into a pleased grin.
Leaning in, he replaces the finger on my nipple with his mouth, a choked gasp falling off my lips as I feel the scrape of his teeth. The sensation is part pleasure, part pain, and it’s electric. It’s toe curling and euphoric.
Conrad moves to the other side, showing it the same attention, and I swear, my cock has never been harder. It’s throbbing and leaking, my balls fuller than they’ve ever been. If I wasn’t restrained, I’d pull myself out. Biting the inside of my cheek to keep from doing something ridiculous, like beg Conrad to do it for me, I let my head drop onto my shoulders as he works both buds at once in a delicious rhythm that sends shock waves straight to my core.
“That feel good, kitten?” he asks huskily.
“Yes,” I breathe out, right as he twists one and flicks his tongue over the other.
“Do you want more?”
I nod. “Please.”
Conrad smirks, bringing his body flush with mine as he brushes his thumb across my cheek while his hungry eyes gaze into mine. My body heats, both by his proximity and the way he’s looking at me.
Like I’m everything in his world. Beginning and end.
Slowly, he brings his mouth down on mine, kissing me tenderly. Almost like he’s saying something he can’t with words. His tongue is gentle, yet possessive, as it rolls against mine, and I find myself standing up on my toes, trying to get more of him. I whimper into his mouth, desperately wishing I could touch him, or wrap myself around him, or even crawl inside of him. The need to be drowning in Conrad is overwhelming.
I’ve never felt this insatiable with anybody other than him. He’s my exception, it would seem, and maybe in another setting, that would unnerve me, but right now, all it does it heighten my need for him tenfold.
Lips a hairsbreadth from mine, his breath my only oxygen, he runs his palm down my stomach, dipping under the cotton material until he’s cupping me. My entire body alights in one swift move, and my lips part even more as a moan falls onto his mouth. His touch is ethereal. Rough, weathered skin against my stiff length. He grips me firmly before stroking me with purpose.
A breathless, “yes,” falls from my lips as my hips thrust into his hold without even meaning to.
Conrad removes his hand from my pants to tug them down until they’re pooling at my ankles. Taking a step back, I watch his eyes trail down my body, drinking in the sight. The fact that I’m completely naked and in a very vulnerable position should make me nervous. It should make me want to cover myself, hide. But I don’t feel any of those things.
I feel alive.
Intoxicated.
And most of all, I feel wholly desired.
“You are…exquisite.” There’s a roughness to his tone that gives way to just how far gone he is. A restraint in his words, like it pains him to hold himself back. There’s a rawness there that shows how much he wants me. “Do you have any idea how sexy you look, kitten? How unbelievably hard I am for you, and only you?”
Those words bounce around my mind on repeat, each time sounding even better than the last. For the first time, I allow my eyes to drop, taking in the very evident erection bulging out from his boxers. The way his robe can’t hide it. Not even a little bit.
My eyes find his again, and the smirk he’s wearing is enough to make me lose it. “Touch me,” I beg.
“Is that what you need, baby?”
“So badly.”
He takes a step closer, his warm, calloused hand coming to my bare hip. My dick brushes against his, and the sensation it brings is immaculate. “Well, I’ve never been good at telling you no, now, have I?”
My lips curl up slightly as I watch him from beneath my lashes. He’s in control…but I have the power.
Without ever breaking eye contact, he brings his hand between us, confidently wrapping it around my aching length. A gasp slips past my parted lips as he pumps me in his fist. His grip is firm as he strokes me from root to tip, over and over again, the pace mind numbing.
Molten lava floods my system, pooling low in my core. I’m practically panting as he works me over, and if I wasn’t so far gone, I’d probably be embarrassed by how quickly I feel my release creeping up on me. But before I can get too close, his hands are gone, and I whimper at the loss of his touch.
“Connie,” I moan, my body coiled tight.
“Patience, kitten,” he growls seconds his lips take mine in an all-consuming kiss. This one is nothing like the last. Where that one was tender, this one is fervid. Where that one was affectionate, this one is pure lust. It’s carnal. It’s an animalistic need being fulfilled.
Ripping his mouth from mine, our breathing shallow and rough, he pulls his thick, impressive cock out, bringing it up to mine. Lining them up, he wraps a hand around us both, wasting no time. Slow, steady strokes, he pumps us side by side, the velvet smooth skin of his shaft caressing mine. It feels so damn good my eyes fight to roll back, but I don’t want to miss a second of this. The sight, the feel, the sound of his breathy groans. All of it is too much.
“Connie,” I gasp. “Fuck, that feels g-good.”
“You drive me wild,” he says through gritted teeth. “You’re perfect, and you’re mine. My husband.”
“Oh god.” My body is on fire, heart galloping against my ribs. That shouldn’t do it for me, but it does. “Say it again,” I beg. “Say it, please.”
Conrad leans in, pumping us faster, as his mouth brushes along mine. His breath fans my lips, and I feel the start of my release all over again. “You’re mine , Whit,” he growls, voice cracking. I know he’s close to the edge too. “My husband.”
“I’m gonna come,” I cry out, head falling back as the wave crashes into me full force. Eyes rolling back into my skull, jaw slack, I moan as my balls pulse and my cock drains all over Conrad’s dick and his hand. “Oh, fuck… Ooooh, fuck!”
“That’s my boy. Give me all your cum, every last drop. It’s mine.”
“Yes… yes. Yours.”
As soon as the word leaves my lips, I feel him let go too. A sticky warmth covers me as Conrad buries his face in my neck, groaning through his release. We’re both sweaty and out of breath, but my body is euphoric. I’m on a cloud. Floating.
For several long moments, he doesn’t move, and I don’t want him to. He nuzzles in my neck, inching along my jaw, until our lips meet. He kisses me slowly. Reverently. And then he walks over to the desk, finds a rag in the drawer that he uses to clean us both before untying my hands.
Our eyes meet briefly, and while I know the panic will come, it hasn’t yet, and I’m allowing myself to relish that for now. After I get dressed and Conrad rights his robe, we head back inside quietly, not wanting to wake up Nana. Never once do we say a word to each other, but we don’t have to.
In the bedroom, Conrad hands me a bottle of water before disappearing into the bathroom. He comes back a moment later with a tub of petroleum jelly. Without even having to ask, I present him my wrists, and he carefully coats my skin where the belt was tied. It’s a little red, but it doesn’t hurt, and I don’t think it’ll leave a mark, but there’s something so comforting about having Conrad take care of me like this after what we just shared.
Once he’s finished, he puts it away before joining me in bed, and again, I allow myself to lean into the way I’m feeling now as I rest my head on his chest and feel his arm wrap around me.
I can regret this in the morning.
For tonight, I’m his.