Read Online Broken Bonds Boxed Set 1-3 by Trisha Wolfe - Free Book Online
Authors: Trisha Wolfe
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hand from the table.
I continue to run the rope along the top of her hand, toward her forearm, over the sexy projection of her wrist. “I don’t have to speak, either,” I tell her, allowing the rope to be my hands. I can touch her in a way that won’t set off her inner alarm.
If she’ll let me.
I know something dark is haunting her. I saw it long before now; when she gazed at the stage in the voyeur room. The wanting, the yearning…but also the fear . It’s what first drew me to her. Some horror lurks deep within my goddess, and I need so badly to bring that to the surface. To show her she’s in control of it—that she’s its master.
But like the fiend that I am, I also want to gaze into that abyss. Watch it swallow her; the consumption. To look into the darkness and discover why…because understanding that will answer so many questions.
“Please,” she says, barely audible over the low music. “Colton. I know what you’re trying to do. And it’s not that I don’t—” She breaks off, seemingly searching for words. “You’re so aware, attuned. To me.” She looks up then, ensnaring me with her eyes. “If I lose what fragile grip I have, I’ll fall. I’ve worked so hard to just be where I am now.”
“And where is that?” I ask, needing her to drop her walls and let me in. If just a fraction. “What are you so frightened will happen if you let go. You clearly crave this, Sadie.” I loop the rope around her wrist, leaving a loose knot that she can easily slip out of, but pulling it tight enough that she feels the rough fibers graze her skin. “Are you scared of being judged? Scared that it will effect your work?”
Surprisingly, she laughs. That melodic sound washes over me, sending a shiver down my spine. She looks at her bound wrist, at the gooseflesh rising along her skin. “If only it was that simple.” Twisting her arm, she gives the rope a tug, testing the restraint. I watch as slight distress worries the smooth skin between her eyebrows—and it hits me, spiking my chest with sharp pain.
“Someone hurt you.” It rushes out, no filter. With her, I’m unable to hold back.
Her gaze snaps to mine. And the truth is there in the dilation of her pupils. The shimmer of her wide eyes.
“You’d make a good profiler,” she says, ripping the cord from her wrist. She balls the rope in her palm. “But maybe you should leave that to me, and get back to your job.”
I can’t help it; a quick smile tilts my lips. “I could do both, if that’s what I wanted. I don’t limit myself. But what’s interesting is how you stress my job—with such scorn.”
“Stop trying to analyze me,” she snaps.
“Easy,” I say, pulling on the end of the rope, slowly uncoiling it from her tight grasp. “I know you’re not really being judgmental. You feel trapped. You want to hate what I am, ultimately what you are…but you don’t. Not really. You’re just torn.” Unwinding the thread of rope, I begin to wrap it around my fingers, watching her gaze follow my movements. “Whoever hurt you, they must have hurt you bad. And now you’re confused. This”—I tighten the band of rope around my hand until my skin puckers from the restraint—“is all about give and take. And what happened to you, I’m assuming, wasn’t a choice. They took. And took.”
Her bottom lip trembles, and I’m desperate to capture it with my mouth. Feel her fear against me and breathe it in, taste her. But it’s too soon. She’s on the edge.
“Now you’re here, trying to unravel the mystery,” I continue. “Wanting to understand if it’s because of what happened to you that you crave the pain, or if it was there all along, but has now become warped. Misshapen.” Her breath stutters past her lips on a gasp. “If it’s distorted you .”
She pushes her wig out of her eyes, and God, do I want to strip her of that false identity. Reveal her beauty to her. “I’m a monster,” she says.
Her admission startles
I continue to run the rope along the top of her hand, toward her forearm, over the sexy projection of her wrist. “I don’t have to speak, either,” I tell her, allowing the rope to be my hands. I can touch her in a way that won’t set off her inner alarm.
If she’ll let me.
I know something dark is haunting her. I saw it long before now; when she gazed at the stage in the voyeur room. The wanting, the yearning…but also the fear . It’s what first drew me to her. Some horror lurks deep within my goddess, and I need so badly to bring that to the surface. To show her she’s in control of it—that she’s its master.
But like the fiend that I am, I also want to gaze into that abyss. Watch it swallow her; the consumption. To look into the darkness and discover why…because understanding that will answer so many questions.
“Please,” she says, barely audible over the low music. “Colton. I know what you’re trying to do. And it’s not that I don’t—” She breaks off, seemingly searching for words. “You’re so aware, attuned. To me.” She looks up then, ensnaring me with her eyes. “If I lose what fragile grip I have, I’ll fall. I’ve worked so hard to just be where I am now.”
“And where is that?” I ask, needing her to drop her walls and let me in. If just a fraction. “What are you so frightened will happen if you let go. You clearly crave this, Sadie.” I loop the rope around her wrist, leaving a loose knot that she can easily slip out of, but pulling it tight enough that she feels the rough fibers graze her skin. “Are you scared of being judged? Scared that it will effect your work?”
Surprisingly, she laughs. That melodic sound washes over me, sending a shiver down my spine. She looks at her bound wrist, at the gooseflesh rising along her skin. “If only it was that simple.” Twisting her arm, she gives the rope a tug, testing the restraint. I watch as slight distress worries the smooth skin between her eyebrows—and it hits me, spiking my chest with sharp pain.
“Someone hurt you.” It rushes out, no filter. With her, I’m unable to hold back.
Her gaze snaps to mine. And the truth is there in the dilation of her pupils. The shimmer of her wide eyes.
“You’d make a good profiler,” she says, ripping the cord from her wrist. She balls the rope in her palm. “But maybe you should leave that to me, and get back to your job.”
I can’t help it; a quick smile tilts my lips. “I could do both, if that’s what I wanted. I don’t limit myself. But what’s interesting is how you stress my job—with such scorn.”
“Stop trying to analyze me,” she snaps.
“Easy,” I say, pulling on the end of the rope, slowly uncoiling it from her tight grasp. “I know you’re not really being judgmental. You feel trapped. You want to hate what I am, ultimately what you are…but you don’t. Not really. You’re just torn.” Unwinding the thread of rope, I begin to wrap it around my fingers, watching her gaze follow my movements. “Whoever hurt you, they must have hurt you bad. And now you’re confused. This”—I tighten the band of rope around my hand until my skin puckers from the restraint—“is all about give and take. And what happened to you, I’m assuming, wasn’t a choice. They took. And took.”
Her bottom lip trembles, and I’m desperate to capture it with my mouth. Feel her fear against me and breathe it in, taste her. But it’s too soon. She’s on the edge.
“Now you’re here, trying to unravel the mystery,” I continue. “Wanting to understand if it’s because of what happened to you that you crave the pain, or if it was there all along, but has now become warped. Misshapen.” Her breath stutters past her lips on a gasp. “If it’s distorted you .”
She pushes her wig out of her eyes, and God, do I want to strip her of that false identity. Reveal her beauty to her. “I’m a monster,” she says.
Her admission startles
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