Taming Her Bad Boy

“Will you untie me now?”

I very ungracefully climb off him, and I can barely make my fingers work properly as I fumble with the knots and release his hands from the restraints. My eyelids are heavy, my body already aching from the feverishness of my efforts.

“I really thought you were going to fall asleep and leave me tied up,” he teases, pulling me against him with one arm. I nestle in beside him, letting his strong arm envelope me.

“Thought about it,” I joke feebly.

His chest constricts with the scoff he answers me with.

I’m beginning to doze off into a physically exhausted slumber when he speaks again.

“Well, what got into you?”

It’s my turn to suppress a laugh, letting my fingertips trace over the lines and contours of his abdomen. “Did you like it?”

“Loved it,” he replies on a sigh. “Almost as much as I love you.”

“Well then. I’ll be keeping that mind.”

His arm pulls me tighter against him, his fingers trailing along the outer part of my arm. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I guess I was just taking out my frustrations on you.”

Cohen moves under me, enough that I lift my head to see what he’s up to. When I do, he’s looking at me squarely, an eyebrow arched. “And which frustrations would those be?”

This time, I don’t even try to hide it. I laugh sarcastically. “You’re kidding, right?” I sit up, tugging the covers with me, affronted by his tone. “Your ex-wife shows up at our engagement party, which also happens to be a party completely taken over by your overbearing mother, and you don’t get why I’m frustrated?”

“You can let that go anytime. You could’ve let me handle it, Vi,” he states, his jaw suddenly tight. “Not to mention you could’ve handled it a little better, too. People were staring.”

My eyes are wide. “Those people weren’t even supposed to be invited in the first place!”

“Calm down—”

“And how would you have handled it if Garrett had shown up?” I bite out the words venomously. It’s a low blow, seeing as Garrett’s not only my ex but also the reason we broke up and parted ways for ten years, but I’m pissed. It seems not even an explosive orgasm and a little BDSM can cure that.

“You know what? We don’t need to discuss this right now. Not after we just—”

“You’re right,” I snap. ‘We don’t.” I push him away from me and pull angrily at the blanket in my hand. Cohen climbs from the bed when he realizes I’m doing the same, which allows me to pull the blanket free and wrap it snugly under my arms.

“Where are you going, Vi?” He sounds at his wit’s end, like he’s dealing with an unruly child, and it only fuels my rage more.

I pull the blanket across the floor with me toward the door. “Earlier tonight, I thought for sure you were going to avoid me and just crash on the couch downstairs.” I grab the door handle on my way out, turning to give him one last icy glare. “Turns out, the couch is mine tonight. And after such a memorable evening, too. Goodnight, Cohen.”

I slam the door shut without another word.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Cohen

My eyes are gritty like sandpaper when I open them. The sunlight is barely beginning to peek through the partially drawn curtains of the bedroom window, and there's no sound coming from the rest of the house.

I roll over, letting my hand slide across the mattress. The sheets are cool to the touch, and my fingertips can find no warm body to touch.

Vienna never came back to bed.

I groan inwardly, pushing my palms against my eyes in attempt to wake myself enough to figure out what the hell happened last night.

One minute, my beautiful, sexy wife-to-be is crawling over me, tying my wrists together with my own tie, and sucking me and fucking me to her heart's content.