Bound to the Bad Boy Read Online Free

dominated by. Surrendering was a colossal act, not something
that could be done lightly or flippantly. She had trusted Matt implicitly. They
had set their own rules and boundaries. It was what had made it work between
them.
    It was easy. Really. Being with him and just letting go.
    Apart from the tidal wave of emotion that
will rise over your head and drown you…
    Shut up. Not now. I can deal with that later.
    And she would deal with her
emotions. But she would put them aside for now. Because she knew that leaving
him tomorrow, would be the hardest thing she had done in years.

Chapter Two
     
    Matt swung the front door open
then stepped back.
    “After you.”
    Megan smiled as she walked past
him into the shadowy hallway. He was such a gentleman, even though some might
think that his appearance suggested otherwise. She had always appreciated the
way he put her first, how he opened doors for her, pulled out her chair and
walked on the outside of the curb. Not many men she’d met showed such courtesy
anymore. Of the few she’d dated after ending things with Matt, most had been
too busy or too concerned with their own needs or appearance to worry about her,
including in the bedroom. She thought of the nights she’d spent at various
men’s houses, behind a locked bathroom door with her bullet vibrator, just
trying to ease the frustration left after sex.
    Matt closed the front door behind
him and removed his heavy leather jacket. He opened a door to a small cloakroom
and hung his jacket and bike helmets in there before turning back to her.
    “So?” He grinned and Megan’s
heart flipped. Heat glowed in her as if a fire in her belly had just been
stoked. She should get out now. She knew it as well as she knew her date of
birth. She should run to the hills and keep on going. But she couldn’t. She was
rooted to the spot. Frozen in time. Imprisoned
by her need.
    Matt moved closer.
    She held her breath. The air
between them crackled with anticipation.
    He reached out and touched her
nose with the tip of a finger.
    “You want the grand tour?”
    A tour of the
house. Yes . That would be
normal, civilized, and might help her to relax. They could pretend that they
were just acquaintances meeting up after a long time. Nothing
more, nothing less.
    Yeah, right.
    “Please.” She nodded vigorously.
“I’d love to see what you’ve done. Why . . . um . . . exactly did you rebuild
it?”
    “Woodworm.”
    “Really?”
    “House was old. Grandma knew it
had issues but didn’t have the energy to do it in her final years.” He hung his
head and Megan felt bad for asking.
    “I’m sorry.”
    “What?”
    “For your
loss.”
    He shook his head. “She was
eighty-four. A grand old age.”
    Guilt pounded through Megan. She
hadn’t even said goodbye to the old lady. Too busy trying to build her new life
in Minneapolis, she hadn’t been back in years. Too
busy avoiding facing up to quitting on Matt, more likely. But still, Grandma King
had been a kindly old lady. Proud and independent, but sweet
to Megan. And she couldn’t bury the guilt that she hadn’t even called
her after she’d split up with Matt.
    But that was life. Everyone
carried some form of guilt or regret that hung around like a bad smell you just
couldn’t wash away.
    “Well I’m still sorry that I
wasn’t . . . here for you when it happened.” Megan swallowed the lump in her
throat. This was not the time to get maudlin on him. “So you built this? Yourself?” Change the
subject, Megan. Move on.
    “Uh huh. With the old man’s help, of course. But I live here
alone.”
    “Your father still lives at the
clubhouse in town?”
    Matt nodded.
    His father. The older Mr. King, known to his friends as Henry VIII because of his tendency
to marry in haste then get rid of his wives just as quickly, was president of
the Cherub charter of the Night Warriors. He was a quiet man but Megan had
always sensed that there was more to him than others would believe at first
glance.