Bound for Nirvana: (The Bound Trilogy Book 3) Read Online Free

me—a black lace bra which barely covered the buds of my nipples and a matching thong so skimpy it was almost pointless. I slid them on over my warm, glowing skin, the fabric so incredibly delicate, I still felt naked. I also felt sexy. Incredibly sexy. My eyes drifted down over my body as I gazed at my reflection in the closet mirror. I was as lithe and toned as I’d ever been, a result, no doubt, of my very busy and strenuous sex life—something else I had Ethan to thank for.
    My gaze journeyed down the length of my legs, a somewhat impressive distance from hip to ankle, and my favorite part of my body. Jia hated my legs—not in a vindictive way, but in the way you hate something you want but can’t have. A result, no doubt, of my once pointing out that the tops of my legs came level with her waist when we stood barefoot, side by side, and the reason you never see Jia without a pair of killer heels.
    The thought made my gaze shift to the box I’d shoved on the bottom shelf the day before, and I felt my pulse begin to elevate. Slowly, I bent to retrieve the box, countless images of red patent shoes from fragmented dreams suddenly materializing from the archives of mind. I shook my head, trying to oust the feeling of irrational disgust that had turned my previously warm, glowing skin to a fine blanket of goose bumps.
    “They’re just shoes.” I forced a laugh in an attempt to trivialize my reaction, and with clammy hands suddenly ripped off the lid. Without further thought, I removed a shoe, my fingertips gliding over the smooth, glossy surface as I tried to make sense of my feelings—an intense, almost childlike excitement muddled with the stupid, inscrutable notion that I should be afraid.
    Transferring all my weight to one foot, I reached out to a shelf, steadying myself as I raised the other and slid on the shoe. The skin on my foot became instantly prickly—an imaginary symptom, I was sure—but I ignored it and donned the other shoe. My heart beat rapidly as I turned again to face the mirror, not focusing on the shoes at first, but instead making the same focal journey from hips to ankles, until my now darkened eyes finally came to rest.
    I stared in absolute awe at the most perfect pair of shoes I’d ever had the privilege of owning.
    I absolutely loved them.
    The glossy, cherry-red hue appeared to warm my usually pale skin perfectly. And the deep sole and long heel only proved to accentuate the extent of my legs, now making them seem impossibly long. Instinctively, my lips curved into a smile and I turned to walk into the bedroom to get the feel of them. They were high, probably slightly higher than I was used to, but they didn’t pinch. As far as shoes go, they were actually quite comfortable.
    God bless Abby.
    After walking the length of the room, I turned to face the full-length mirror opposite the bed and began to sashay back toward it.
    That’s when I sensed, rather than saw, something off toward the edge of the room and froze, my gaze shifting to reveal the source. Ethan stood in the doorway watching me, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, nostrils flaring, his eyes ablaze. With what? Reverence? Desire? Anger? They locked onto mine before gliding penetrably and hungrily over my searing skin.
    “Are you trying to kill me, woman?” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.
    “That wasn’t my intention, no. You’re home early.”
    He cocked a single brow. “Oh? Do you often parade around practically naked for your own indulgence?”
    I raised my hands in a gesture of surrender. “Busted.”
    “You’re kidding,” he spluttered, his second brow shooting up to mirror the other.
    My lips flickered playfully. “Yes, I’m kidding.” But there was no hint of amusement in his unblinking eyes as they stared back into mine. Shit, he was still angry. Suddenly feeling foolish and far too exposed, I turned to head toward the closet. “I’ll get dressed.”
    “You’ll do no such thing. We