Chapter 2
“Why do you always have to be in control?” Lachlan teased, smiling as her tongue left a trail of wetness from his chest to his neck to the lobe of his ear.
Her laugh was husky and hot against his skin. “I miss making men squirm under oath in the courtroom, so you have to let me have fun at home.” She pressed her taut nipple against his lips. “Besides, you’d be disappointed if I didn’t make you work for it.”
He opened his mouth willingly and sucked hard as immense pleasure rolled through him. She let out a gasp as his teeth flicked over the nub, growing round like a pebble in his mouth.
His cock twitched as her thigh brushed against his.
She grabbed his leg and raised it, tying a satin scarf around his ankle, then wrapping the end around the bedpost. She yanked and a jolt of pain radiated up his calf.
He didn’t care. She didn’t tie him up often, which was why he enjoyed it so much when she did.
Tilting his head back, he assessed his constraints, jerking each arm and leg to test if he could overcome the bondage.
Satisfied that she’d eliminated any chance he had of ruining this game, he relaxed.
He was entirely at her mercy to do with as she wanted.
And that’s what he needed.
He needed her now more than ever.
“Look at me,” she demanded.
His head snapped toward the end of the bed.
The soft glow of candlelight danced across her deep brown skin, highlighting every curve and contour.
The tiny triangles of her bra barely concealed her breasts, which begged to be touched.
Her thong was nothing more than a thin shoelace swallowed between the ample cheeks of her alluring ass.
Her thick black hair barely skimmed her shoulders, the perfect frame for the exquisite features of her face—the high cheekbones, full sultry lips, hypnotic brown eyes that seemed to hold countless secrets, and the single dimple on her right cheek that made her smile devastating.
He drank in every inch of her with a hunger that burned deep within him, his desire threatening to consume him entirely.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Lachlan said, the words rushing from his lips as his brain short-circuited from her intoxicating sensuality. “The most fucking beautiful woman in the entire world. Fuck the world. In the universe.”
She smirked and circled him like a predator stalking its prey.
She kneeled between his legs, her eyes smoldering with desire as she moved closer to his rock-hard cock.
He moaned as she brushed her nails lightly against his inner thighs, trailing fire beneath her touch.
He squirmed, wanting more but unable to move with his limbs effectively restrained.
Lachlan shivered as her breath trailed up his thigh, blowing air on his erection. He twitched involuntarily. A small smile crept over his face as he felt her hand stroke his cock, squeezing him ever so gently before moving away.
“Damn tease,” he panted, willing her to touch him again. “Aye, woman, get on with it, would ye.”
“Who’s in control, Lachlan?” With a raised eyebrow, she leaned back away from him, flooding his body with coolness from the absence of her closeness.
“You are, love,” he said quickly.
“Don’t forget it,” she snapped, then resumed her position between his legs.
This time, she didn’t tease him. She took him whole into her mouth without hesitation.
His cock throbbed, every nerve ending on fire as she sucked and licked him with a hunger that matched his own.
An insatiable need for more taking over his body.
He bucked into the hot, wet heaven of her mouth and gritted his teeth to stop himself from climaxing too soon.
This was her gift to him, and he wanted to savor every damn second of it.
“Bloody hell, I love you. Na’ just a wee bit, mind ye.” His Scottish accent became more pronounced. “I love ye so much, Britt.”
Teeth scraped against the sensitive skin of his cock, corrupting the pleasure flooding through his body. He jerked his hips away from her mouth, eyes flinging open as he stared into the crushed face of … Stacy.
Fuck!
She froze above him, her body tensing. "What did you just call me?"
He'd more than fucked up this time. Lachlan grimaced as guilt threatened to drown him. "I'm so... sorry, Stace."
"You called me Britt." Her voice was flat as she climbed off him, nearly tangling herself in the sheets. "Your dead girlfriend's name. While we were having sex." She snatched her robe from the chair. "Real classy, Lachlan."
"No, I didn't mean—" he struggled against the restraints, the silk scarves cutting into his wrists.
"I just got ... confused." His response was lame as fuck, but what else could he say?
Yes, Stace, as a matter of fact, the dead love of my life adored tying me up and fucking my brains out.
I miss her so much that I imagined I was with her instead.
That would be beyond cruel and heartless.
Especially toward a woman he highly respected, who had been nothing but sweet and kind to him and his daughter. How could he have made such a stupid mistake?
"Confused?" She yanked the robe around her slight frame, tying it with jerky movements. "Oh, that's rich. Were you thinking about her the whole time? Is that why you wanted me to tie you up?" Her laugh was bitter. "What, did she do this better?"
"Stace, please—"
"No, I want to know. Was this some kind of sick fantasy fulfillment?" She snatched her thong from the doorknob and stomped across the room to her discarded dress beneath the window. "Because I'm not interested in being someone's replacement fuck while they pine over their dead ex."
"That's not fair," he ground out, the guilt mixing with anger at her callousness. "She's the mother of my child—"
"And I'm the idiot who thought three years was long enough for you to actually be ready for someone new.
" She stared at him in disbelief as she tugged her dress over her head and shoved her underwear into her purse.
She swiped at a tear that trailed down her cheek.
"I can't compete with a ghost, Lachlan. Especially one you're still clearly in love with. "
Her last words were a dagger through his heart. He winced at the physical pain in his chest. He’d give anything to have Britt back. Sharing his life with her instead of struggling with how to move on from her death after all these years.
"I never asked you to compete—"
"No, you just asked me to warm your bed while apparently fantasizing about her." She paused at the door. "You know what the worst part is? I actually believed you when you said you were ready to move on."
Getting over Britt was never going to happen. She owned a huge chunk of his heart. His love for her would never fade, but she was gone, and he’d believed enough time had passed to open up to someone new. To Stacy.
But he’d been fucking wrong.
“You’re an asshole, Lachlan!” Stacy yelled.
“Please, Stace. You might wake Paloma …” Lachlan pleaded.
“She’s on the other side of the house. There’s no way she can hear what’s going on here.”
He hoped she couldn’t. Paloma adored Stacy. The last thing he wanted was his little girl to hear him arguing with the woman she had grown close to—a woman who was a mother figure in her life.
Is that why he’d convinced himself that a relationship with Stacy was a good idea?
Tricked himself into thinking he was ready to start over.
It had been easier to shield Paloma from what she was missing when she was younger.
That all changed when she started attending the private school, making new friends who all had mommies that doted on them and were around for every event.
It didn’t matter how much attention he showered her with, the questions about her mother became more frequent.
And his answers did nothing to stop her from wishing her mom was still alive, missing the closeness that her friends had with their moms.
Stace’s presence in his life had helped him fill that void for his little girl.
How fucked up was he?
“Stace … please, just wait.”
“I’m done with this.” Stacy shook her head. “From now on, our relationship will be strictly professional. Nothing more. We’ll go back to the way things were before.” She choked on a sob.
Staring at her, he realized for the first time she was in love with him. Probably had been for a while. Somewhere among the hundreds of flights she’d accompanied him as the attendant, she’d become more than just interested in seeing if they could develop a deeper relationship.
But he couldn’t love her back.
He’d tried to open his heart to the idea, but it was no use.
His heart only wanted Britt.
Stacy turned and opened the door to the guest bedroom.
“Stace … my arms? ” Lachlan croaked out. “Can you let me out of these scarves?”
Her response was a defiant stare. “Get out of them your damn self!”
And then she was gone.
Lachlan slumped against the bed. “House, call Sebastian,” he demanded through gritted teeth. His cock ached and throbbed in pain from Stacy’s retaliation.
The disembodied female automated voice responded, “Calling Sebastian Luttrell.”
His good friend had the decency to pick up after one ring.
“Guess you heard about Titus being murdered—”
“What the fuck?” Lachlan lurched forward, then winced in pain as his arms jerked back toward the bedpost.
“So that’s not why you’re calling me in the middle of the night?” Sebastian asked.
“No, I need your help. It’s an … emergency,” Lachlan said, deciding not to get into details that were instantly less important than what he thought he’d heard. “Is he really dead?”
“Yeah,” Sebastian said. “I’ll head over and fill you in when I get there.”