Free In Wicked Chains (The Wicked) by Avril Ashton Page B

Now.”
    She jerked at his barked words. “Maysin.” Shit, she couldn’t hear her own voice over the beating of her heart. “Maysin.” There. Clear enough to make out the needy, pleading tone.
    He inhaled. Loudly. “Harper.” It wasn’t a question. He recognized her voice.
    And suddenly she couldn’t find hers. The phone threatened to slip from her slippery palm, and her body reacted to the sound of her name on his lips with tightening nipples, dampening panties.
    “Harper.” Her name shook. “Speak to me. Please.”
    Speak. Say what, that she loved him, needed him? Should she come clean about being blackmailed into marrying a man she dreamt of killing in his sleep?
    “I miss you, Harper. I miss your touch and the taste of your lips. The sounds you make.”
    A groan left her throat. Her fingers tightened around the phone. She wanted to hang up, wanted to demand he come free her, rescue her from the ties keeping them apart. She wanted, but never could have.
    Tears dripped off her chin. “I miss you, too.” She closed her eyes, called up the crystal clear image of that rugged face, beautifully scarred. The green eyes that saw into her soul and the long hair. So soft. “Maysin.”
     
    “I’m here, love. Always here. Are you okay?” His concern humbled her, touched her heart.
     
    “Someone knows about us.”
    “What?” His voice rose. “Who?”
    “I don’t know.” She twisted a finger around the telephone coil. “Two bouquets of lilacs were delivered to my office.”
    “Your favorite.” That deep tone dropped lower, driving chills down her spine.
    Her eyes widened. “Yes. How do you know what?”
    He chuckled. “They’re all over your house and the fragrance clings to your hair and skin. It blends with the jasmine lotion you wear, making you smell just…eatable.”
    Harper licked her lips with a shudder. “I-I, um. So the flowers came with a card.”
    “What does it say?”
    “ You never asked, he never volunteered . Plus your name, number, and address.”
    Silence filled the moment between them.
    “You didn’t know my name before now?”
    “Only your first name.” She shrugged. “I never bothered to ask…”
    “And I never volunteered.” He exhaled. “How is that even possible? How could I not have given you my information?”
    She cut off his self-berating. “I-we were always um, not focused on that.” They were always humping each other, is what she meant to say, losing themselves in the uncontrollable pull.
    “Yes. We were always…focused on other things.”
    She chewed her bottom lip.
    “What’s the name of the florist on the card?”
    “Diamond Floral Arrangements.” She repeated the address to him as well. “What are you going to do?”
    “Figure out who sent the flowers, which in turn will tell me who knows about us.”
    “Okay.” She breathed a sigh of relief.
    “Is there an us, Harper?”
    “Maysin, you know the answer to that.”
    “Do I? If Mercier wasn’t in the picture, if you weren’t marrying him, would there be an us? Would I be holding you and making love to you, or would I still be relegated to images of you in my head to bring myself off?”
    “Don’t think of me,” she hissed. “Don’t think of me when you’re with someone else.”
    “Who says I’ve been with anyone else since that first night?” he shot back. “Who says I’m not still waiting for you? Hoping you’d want me more than you fear him?”
    Jesus. She shook her head. “No. Waiting is a waste of time, Maysin. Don’t wait for me. I’ll never come.”
    He chuckled dryly. “Ah, Harper. I’ve told myself that a million times. I’ve forced myself to date other women, even called one your name while she blew me. Yet here we are.”
    She choked back the hurt and feelings of betrayal at his confession. “You fucked somebody else?” Why was she so angry? They’d staked no claims. She was already taken.
    “Sure as hell can’t have you, now can I?”
    The heavy sarcasm