Shackled Hearts (Chained Hearts Duet 4)

“Do you have a girlfriend or a wife who may be upset that I’m staying with you?”

“No. You are the only woman allowed in my house.”

Butterflies take off in my stomach at his words. “Wow, okay.” I place my hands in my lap as the car slows down, and he pulls to a stop in front of a small house in a shitty neighborhood. He gets out and helps me again.

“This is your place?” I look around. “You just leave your car there?”

“No one will steal it.”

“I grew up in this neighborhood. Everyone steals everything,” I tell him, and he chuckles. “What?”

“You’ve mentioned my car getting stolen before. It’s funny.”

“Well, has it been?”

“Yes, when you had it.”

I gasp, and all he does is smirk.

“Oh…” I like his car, and I bet I loved driving it.

He opens the door, and I smile as I see inside his house. It’s nice. Clean. And nothing like I expected from the outside. Now, that’s an impressive kitchen, especially with its old-world charm. A large oven and range stand in the middle of the huge cupboard space. This moves into a breakfast bar, where a few white stools with high backs are lined up. But before it is a big living room with sofas, a large-screen television, and some artwork that I wouldn’t expect this man to adorn his walls.

“It’s beautiful.” He walks me to a bedroom and opens the door. “Is this yours?” There’s a made bed with a large closet. It’s plain but screams his.

“Yes.”

“Where will you sleep?” I ask. “If I’m sleeping here.”

“Next to you,” he states, then walks to the closet, pulls a few hangers out, and starts hanging my clothes.

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable with that.” I bite the inside of my cheek as he finishes and turns toward me.

“I won’t do anything. It’s so I can monitor you. Now, lie down and turn the TV on so I can cook for you.”

Before he can make it to the door, I can’t stop myself from asking, “Have we had sex?”

He stops then turns to face me. “Yes.”

“A lot?”

He smirks, and it makes me smile. “Yes. You liked it a lot.” My cheeks redden at his words, and I have an inkling I liked it a lot.

“Are you sure? I heard it’s my profession to pretend otherwise.”

“You no longer do that.” He steps closer and leans down. His breath tickles my ear, and my face is in his neck. “Can you feel that?”

“What?” I ask through a heavy breath, a shiver running down right through my core.

“That,” he says. “Us.”

“I don’t understand.”

He pulls back ever so slightly and touches my arm, running his fingers over the goosebumps that have risen all over my skin. “I bet your heart is beating hard in that chest of yours. That’s what I do to you without touching you. I know because you do the same to me.” He inhales deeply.

Is he… smelling me?

Before he pulls back, he whispers, “Now do you think you enjoyed it?”