Bound to Her by Deborah Pin (popular books to read .txt) 📖

every last drip of

water from her leaky faucet, the furnace as it kicked on, the creak of her

old pipes, the long tendril-y branches of the overgrown bushes outside her window as they brushed along the siding. There were just too many

quiet sounds. But eventually she did fall asleep. And when she woke in

the morning she was still alive.

The next few days tumbled by without incident and the feeling that perhaps the worst was over inched into her mind just a bit more with every passing hour. She wanted to think it was over and every minute that passed with more nothing made it easier and easier to think, to rationalize and then eventually—after a while or so—to fully believe it was just plain over and that belief was extremely comforting. Part of her

thought it was contrived and just her way of finding peace and sleep—

part of her thought it might be real.

She’d followed Dillon’s request to take public transit to her

Wednesday-night class that week, though she was struggling to fathom

why at this point. It was uneventful at best, minus the exceptionally foul

smell of the woman sitting next to her on the bus. Class was equally uneventful.

She stopped in the registration office before the start of class and asked for Josh Grant’s personal contact information, and they handed it

over without question. When he approached her as the other students were filing out of the classroom at the end of the night, she almost felt guilty. His head was down and he was holding a piece of paper in his hand.

“I made this for you.” His eyes stared at her desktop and he dropped

the paper in front of her. She reached for it, trying to hide the tremble in her hand. They were alone at this point and she was nervous. Josh was

an odd duck if nothing else and Dillon had her afraid of the poor man at

this point. She unfolded the paper and gasped.

It was stunning. Nothing more than a simple ink drawing on a single

white sheet of copy paper but it was her. It was an amazing likeness of

her. Not a posed or glamorous drawing, just her staring off at some distant point. She wasn’t smiling, she wasn’t frowning, she was just…

being. Her heart thumped and she lost her ability to stifle the tremor in

her hand any longer.

“Josh, this is beautiful. I had no idea you were an artist.” She was trying to sound casual and as nervous as she was she was just as amazed

by the talent she was looking at.

“Was…uh…who was…was that guy yours? No—no, no… Like was

he your boyfriend…last week?”

“Oh.” Her pause was ridiculously long as she contemplated. “Yes.”

She blurted it out as her eyelids fluttered. That meant she was lying.

Thank God he didn’t know that. She sniffled and looked away quickly.

That was lie sign numero dos. She cleared her throat nervously as she stood and gathered her belongings.

“That’s nice.” His face dropped and he turned from her with his head

down. Her heart was racing and she was starting to panic. He walked from her without a sound and she waited until he was out the door

before she sank into her chair and started breathing deep calming breaths of air.

When Dillon burst into the room, she shrieked in shock and he rushed

to her, pulling her to her feet. He held her at arm’s length, turning her face, touching her skin and pulling back, trying to figure out what the hell had happened.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” She grabbed his wrists and stilled the panic in his

touch.

“What the fuck was he doing in here with you alone? I got here as your students were leaving. I didn’t realize he was still in here with you.

I was just waiting for you in the hall when I saw him leave. Did he touch

you?” His panic hadn’t abated an ounce.

“He didn’t do anything. He gave me a picture.” She wasn’t doing

very well at controlling her own panic either. The man had done nothing.

Nothing but given her an incredible picture. He was odd. He was very odd but he’d done nothing. Dillon studied the picture in his hand and she watched him. “I have his information.”

“Good.” He didn’t even look up from her likeness on the piece of paper as he spoke the word. His jaw tensed and clenched as she watched

his face.

“Why are you here, Dillon?” Again he didn’t seem interested in

pulling his gaze from the picture.

“I wanted to see that you got home all right. Come on. I’ll drive you.”

The weather was warm for early spring though the sun was long gone

and as he walked her from the building, they strolled. He didn’t say where he was parked and she just followed his lead, meandering slowly

down the sidewalk.

When a skateboarder nearly took her out, he clutched her upper arm

and swiftly pulled her body into his. It left her gasping as her palm met

the hard clenching muscles of his stomach to steady herself. Even with a

t-shirt on it was easy to feel the definition of his abdomen and it was all

she could do to pull from him.

He stared down at her. It was nearly a glare as he fought his own battle. She could see it in the way his intense eyes held hers, refusing to

look away but refusing to let his expression soften either. He was trying

to remain in control and not falter—but he wanted to falter as much as she did.

He was parked two blocks away and when his hand met the small of

her back as he rounded the car with her, she inhaled a rushed breath and

he instantly pulled back from her. He eyed her carefully as she climbed

in.

The phrase “walking on eggshells” suddenly had new meaning. It

was what they did with each other. It was as if her every movement was

somehow offset by his. If she touched, he pulled back. If she gasped he

held his breath. If she looked, he looked away. He was trying so hard to

undo her every reaction to him and it was so telling. She wasn’t offended. He wouldn’t be doing it if he wasn’t trying to hide what he really wanted to do, which was match her every move, every gasp, every

touch. It was an incredible turn-on to some degree and it was incredibly

painful in another.

Once he was sitting beside her in the driver’s seat, she turned to him.

“What if it’s over?” He cocked his head at her as his eyes narrowed. “I mean couldn’t it be? It’s been nearly three weeks, nothing’s happened, maybe nothing will. Maybe he was scared off and…”

He studied her, his jaw clenching. She could tell he was frustrated with her but it wasn’t anger. “That’s a very enticing notion but I don’t think you can afford to think that way.” He’d shifted his body toward her and he’d not even bothered starting the car. “You say a few weeks as

though that means something. A few weeks is nothing. This man

watched you for months. There’s no doubt in my mind. So what’s a few

weeks to a man who has invested a few months on you already?”

She shivered at the thought. But she didn’t want to believe that was

true and she shook her head, opening her mouth to argue.

“Don’t.” He silenced her quickly. “You’re not the first witness who’s

wanted to trade her circumstances for something a bit less horrifying.

You’re rationalizing, you’re compensating and you can’t afford to be that

careless with your life.”

Her mouth hung open at the harshness of his words. Nothing he’d

said was cruel or mean. It was just honest and devoid of any

sugarcoating whatsoever.

“I just thought maybe…” Her eyes shifted out the window and when

they shifted back, she caught his outstretched hand as his fingers curled back and he redirected his hand to the steering wheel. He’d wanted to touch her but he wouldn’t.

After he dropped her off at her side door, she walked inside and he

walked down to the patrol officer’s car to speak with him. She watched

him from the living room window, and he stayed there for many minutes

until turning and walking back up her driveway. She half expected him

to knock on her door and come in. but he didn’t. When she heard his car

start her heart sank.

Chapter Twelve

 

He managed to avoid her for the next week. And he hated every

minute of it. He didn’t call her, he didn’t seek her out, he didn’t text—

hell, he didn’t even go inside the school the couple afternoons he was able to pick Seth up. But the following Tuesday afternoon, he hurt her anyway.

“Dad, Jake and I want to go play soccer after dinner. Aunt Molly already said Jake could go.” Seth was approaching him as he stood by his

SUV outside the school. He was looking at Dillon expectantly, waiting for an answer. Answer? Hell, Dillon was still waiting to hear a question.

“Was any part of that supposed to sound like it had a question mark

on the end of it?” He cocked his head to the side as he watched his son.

Seth was a really good kid and Dillon was determined to keep him that

way. He’d witnessed entirely too many kids who should have known

better start taking steps in the wrong direction and there wasn’t a chance

in hell that was going to happen with his son.

Seth threw his book bag on the floor of the front seat as he climbed in

and Dillon closed his door. But he froze the second he turned to round the car. She was there, standing up near the entrance doors to the school,

watching him.

She wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t doing anything at all except pinning him to his spot with her incredible eyes. He swore he could see the blue

even from twenty-five yards away. Her hand was half raised in a casual

attempt to wave at him. He should say something to her but he panicked.

Every time he tried to just be a detective around her he caught himself

being a man. So instead of letting that happen he ignored her, looked away and rounded the car to his side. He refused to look at her. That was

until he was pulling away from the curb and stole a quick glance in the

side mirror. Her head was down, looking at the ground. He didn’t need

to see those beautiful blues to know she was hurt. Fuck. It was the last thing he wanted to do to her but he couldn’t seem to behave himself with

her.

“So can I go?”

“Yeah, sure.” He was barely thinking when he said the words.

“Really? That’s it? You just said yes, you know that, right? You can’t

unsay it.” Seth was speaking a hundred miles an hour.

“What?” Dillon was confused.

“You just said I could go play soccer with Jake after dinner.” Seth sounded suspicious and Dillon was still—well, confused.

“I did?”

“Dad!”

“Fine. Yeah. You can go as long as your homework is done but in the

future ask, don’t tell and say please. I promise it’ll get you further in life.” Seth hated it when he lectured but at the moment, Seth was a bit too

jazzed about soccer to give a shit if his dad wanted to lecture.

“Okay. So uh, what’s up with you? I mean like no offense, Dad, but

you’re acting kinda weird.” Seth was giving him that chastising look that

said he thought his dad was crazy. Dillon was very familiar with it.

“Why? Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.” He was practically stuttering.

“I saw you looking at Ms. Page.” Dillon tensed at nothing more than

her name. “Do you like my teacher, Dad?”

Seth was watching him and his face was oddly serious for a kid of thirteen. “I mean, it’s okay with me. She’s really pretty cool for an old person.” Old person? Dillon almost laughed. She was seven years

younger than he was and his son thought of her as an old person. Then

again Seth probably thought of his dad as geriatric.

“I don’t have a crush on your teacher, Seth.” He said it sternly, hoping

to mask the blatant lie but given the look on Seth’s face—that look that

made Dillon think his son was rolling his eyes without actually rolling his eyes—